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#my villian origin story
angelosearch · 6 days
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Ten years ago, when I finished my undergrad, we had a middle-of-the-road to outright offensive commencement speaker who was an alum. My graduation was a shit show for several reasons but the guy who addressed us was a real dud. I don't remember his name but I think he worked on Family Guy or something.
You know who gave the speech to the class of 2015?
David Boreanaz. (Also an alum)
David FREAKIN' Boreanaz. Angel. Bones. Bojak Horseman's house. But most importantly for me...
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KINGDOM HEARTS ONE LEON.
As in, THE FIRST ENGLISH VOICE ACTOR FOR SQUALL.
As in, the version of Squall that made me say, "wait, I know that guy! Wasn't he in that videogame? Maybe I should try playing it."
THE SQUALL THAT STARTED IT ALL (for me anyway).
To this day, I am still seething. If I had just taken a goddamn gap year or something I could have been sent out into the world by the voice of my favorite fictional person. By a voice that had a tremendous impact on my life!!! Nope, instead boderline-homophobic comedy writer.
I will never not be mad about it.
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yoursghouly · 7 months
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when everyone’s coming into their villian era but you’ve been chilling here since day one
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trans-xianxian · 1 year
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my train has been stopped at the sacramento train station for like two hours for no apparent reason and the people in front of me are being way too loud for it being Three O'clock In The Morning and the lady right next to me snores. I just want to go home!!!!!!
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This is the worst possible start into 2024 imaginable
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thederpclub · 2 years
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I fucking hate life someone just killed my plant what the fuck. Who just smashes someone’s potted plant for no reason. I don’t interact with anyone there is actually not a single reason for it. I’m so god damn upset that thing was like a child to me I literally don’t know how to cope with this. Why would anyone do this it’s a plant I has never done anyone harm in its life. Why did they think it deserved to die? I poured my heart and soul into it. I dressed up the pot and talked to it because that’s supposed to help plants grow and then some piece of shit just rips away everything and probably laughed about it. Life’s a cruel joke.
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happinessismagicc · 2 years
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I'll neved forgive some of you for having Taylor removing "hey, kids! spelling is fun!" part of ME! because you guys didn't like it
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vickimilly · 2 years
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15 years ago I visited Bodmin Gaol with my parents and whilst I was there another visitor mistook me for a mannequin.
This is what the mannequins look like.
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As a 14 year old with very low self-esteem this was absolutely mortifying and is actually my villian origin story.
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effthat · 4 months
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Fried wonton… $
Cheese wonton… $
“Which one is Crab Rangoon?”
“That’s the fried cheese wonton.”
🤦🏽‍♀️
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flowered-mp3 · 2 years
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why did vernon change chwenotchew
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unpleasantdreams570 · 2 years
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We’re all villains in the end.
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five-and-dimes · 4 months
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Next to Nothing
Dream knew that retiring from Endlessness to live a human life with Hob Gading wouldn't be easy. He wasn't expecting Hob to laugh at him so much though. (In which there are misunderstandings, Dream hides things he shouldn't, and being human is hard.)
AO3
Lately, Dream has been experiencing nightmares.
He says ‘experiencing’ instead of ‘having’ due to the nature of his sleep. Despite making the difficult decision to become human, to share an immortal, human life with Hob Gadling, certain aspects of himself have remained. One of those aspects is that he simply cannot be overtaken by dreams. He is always aware of when he steps into his former realm- like returning to a house he no longer lives in but still remembers which floorboards creak and how to open tricky doors. He is incapable of not recognizing himself, even from the other side of the mirror.
Some nights are dreamless- The new incarnation of Dream of the Endless, Daniel (and Death, once she learned of his lucid dreaming), worried that being in a constant state of awareness would prevent him from properly resting, which was the whole point of his retirement in the first place. As such, half the time he floats between realms, peaceful and relaxed. But sometimes dreams or nightmares are drawn to him. And while it had been awkward at first, his former subjects standing before him like any other mortal, he encouraged them to fulfill whatever scenario they had been driven to. Even if he could not be lost in it, he knew they were drawn to him when he was feeling something he needed to face. That was their purpose, and he would always be proud of them for fulfilling it. 
And so it was that for the past week and a half, Dream had entered his former realm and been faced with nightmares about Hob’s laughter.
Despite himself, he jerks awake, dragging himself back into the Waking, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he gasps in the dark, the echoes of laughter still ringing in his ears. He brings a hand up to his mouth, stifling his heaving breaths, berating himself for being so affected despite knowing it was a dream. As his breathing evens out, he turns his head on his pillow and finds himself nearly nose to nose with Hob Gadling. His best friend, his partner, his lover.
The subject of his nightmares.
Luckily, Hob has always fallen deeply into the Dreaming, and so his snores remain steady and undisturbed by Dream’s restless awakening. Letting his hand drop from his mouth, Dream turned fully onto his side, gazing at the sleeping immortal. He brushes a lock of hair away from his face, letting his fingers caress Hob’s cheek softly, taking comfort in the way he nuzzles against his skin even in his sleep. Dream has been human for just shy of two months, and Hob has been a kind and patient guide in his new life.
Hob also laughs at him a lot. 
He had no disillusion that adjusting to human life would be easy. He had fought with the decision for ages before Hob had finally taken his hands, kissed his face, and begged for him to stay. He could not be Endless anymore, could not stand it, was rapidly approaching an edge that he had no qualms throwing himself over. But Hob. Hob had pulled him back. And so he had let himself be separated from his Endlessness and fell into Hob’s arms to start his new life, and he had expected difficulties, he had . But he had not expected the laughter that followed.
Laying in bed with Hob now, Dream reflects on his time as a human. 
There had been the night he attempted to help Hob with dinner and burned his fingers on a hot pan. He had shrieked, staring horrified at the way the skin had bubbled and turned a vibrant red. Hob had held his hand under a stream of cold water and laughed as Dream stutteringly questioned if his skin would fall off.
“Might peel a bit, but nothing you won’t recover from. Afraid it’s a common happenstance in a kitchen this small. No need to be so theatrical about it!” He teased and laughed and Dream had flushed with embarrassment, scrambling to pull himself together.
He came close to hyperventilating when he got a splinter from the stair railing leading up to Hob’s flat, and Hob had laughed as searched for the tweezers.
“That’s nothing, Love, nothing at all. Just a bit of wood, not the end of the world, yeah?”
And Dream had bitten his tongue to silence himself but all he could think about was that there was something inside him. Something foreign shoved beneath his skin, he could see it, and it felt wrong wrong wrong like a parasite, like a poison. For the next two days he struggles to eat, to drink, he gently rebuffs Hob’s attempts at love making. He does not want anything inside him, does not want anything outside to invade the meager shelter his body provides.
A day out at a fair gives Dream some sort of sickness, whether flu or food poisoning they couldn’t be sure, but Dream spent hours in the restroom, curled over the toilet. His stomach clenched painfully, violently rejecting any attempts at drinking water or ginger ale. He kept heaving, even when he was sure he must be empty, hollow, so sure that the next thing he would vomit would be his organs. There was nothing left.
Hob laughed.
“You won’t be coughing up your stomach tonight Love, I promise,” he kept a hand on Dream’s back, rubbing soothing circles only ever broken up by his chucking, “It all feels far more dramatic than it actually is. You’d probably feel better if you focused more on breathing than catastrophizing,” he grinned.
He hits his elbow on the edge of a bookshelf and nearly screams, a kaleidoscope or sensation and pain shooting up his entire arm, and he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand, he’s bumped into things before, he’s experienced bruises (experienced the horror of blood pooling under his skin, spilling out of his veins and spreading in vibrant colors across his flesh) but this is different, like needles have filled his arm all the way down to his hand. Hob rushes in, sees him curled over, clutching his elbow, trying to make the sensations stop, and bursts into laughter.
“Oh, oh Love, you’re alright,” he pulls at Dream until he is standing up straight, running a hand soothingly (patronizingly) over his arm as he giggles, “Discovered the funny bone, have you? Probably one of the worst designs of the human body.”
Dream wants to cry. It’s not funny to him. 
Strangers keep putting their hands on his shoulders or back as they move around him, and he jumps and flinches and glares and Hob laughs and laughs and laughs, “No harm, Love! Folks can be a bit casual about physical contact these days, no danger in the market, darling.”
Every time, even all these weeks later, the laughter hurts. It cuts him in a way he knows he would be judged for, would be chastised for, would be despised for. His undesirable, loathsome, insufferable pride clearly just as much a problem now as it was before. It is a stinging, aching pain to be laughed at, jeered at, mocked. 
And yet… 
His biggest fear- the thing that makes him tremble and cry deep in the Dreaming where no one can see him, the thing that makes him hide his face in his pillow and hide from Hob even as he sleeps- is the thought of what will happen when the laughter stops .
When he stops being a joke and becomes just a burden.
At least now he is able to provide amusement to Hob, no matter how much it makes his chest clench with shame. But surely the novelty will wear off. Eventually, Hob will come to resent Dream’s weakness, his fumbling, his stupid, worthless helplessness. He cannot be happy having to constantly take care of his lover, always having to guide him through situations that should be simple and easy. Hob shouldn’t have to constantly hold his hand.
Dream lifts his head from his pillow, ignoring the damp spot where his tears escaped despite his best efforts. His nightmares have meaning.
He has to do better.
~~~
When Hob wakes, he grins and leans in to give Dream a kiss.
“G’morning, Love. Sleep well?”
Dream nods, leaning his forehead against Hob’s, “Yes. I slept just fine.”
~~~
Dream and Hob are on the couch, curled together and watching something that Dream stopped paying attention to a while ago. There is a pressure in his head, throbbing and painful and the light of the television only makes it worse. He wants to press his fingers against his skull, wants to dig into the sides of his temples until the pressure is released, wants to hold his head in his hands until it feels less like his skull might split down the middle. He knows what a headache is, but the knowledge does not comfort him. He still feels his breath catch at the idea that there is something wrong with his brain .
Hob shifts next to him, “Alright, love?”
Closing his eyes, Dream nods, “Yes. I’m just. Tired.”
~~~
Hob has taken Dream out to a bar tonight, always excited to show Dream places outside of the New Inn. And Dream doesn’t mind, truly. Even before becoming human, he had been trying his best to view the world more as Hob did- as experiences and opportunities and curiosities. It is easier with Hob beside him, always open and eager to share his love for life. 
They are moving through the crowd hand in hand, making their way towards an open table in the back, when Dream feels a hand grab his arse.
Sucking in a breath, he whips his head around to try to find the offender. It is a warm night, and Dream had left his long coat at home, comfortable enough at the time with just a long sleeved shirt, but now he wishes desperately for the shield of more fabric, shivering in his own skin. Only… only Hob was supposed to touch him there. Hob, who was always gentle and considerate, never possessive or threatening like this touch had been. He cannot identify the culprit in the mass of bodies around them, dozens of people whose dreams and intentions are lost to him, and suddenly everyone feels like a threat.
He wants to go home.
“Dream?” Hob tugs at his hand, drawing his attention back from where he had frozen in the middle of their journey, “Everything okay?”
Hob’s eyebrow is raised, and his lips twitch at the corner, like the laughter is already building in his throat, just waiting for Dream’s latest foolishness, ignorance, stupid, stupid, stupid Dream.
“Yes,” Dream forces a smile, “it’s nothing.”
They continue to the table.
~~~
It is still dark out when Dream wakes, not from a nightmare, but from an intense, sharp pain in his leg. 
He gasps, curling up and frantically grabbing at his calf, feeling the way the muscle has tensed. Tears spring to his eyes as he grips his flesh, desperate to get the muscle to release. He doesn’t understand, it doesn’t make sense, he wasn’t doing anything, he was sleeping, why is his body doing this, what did he do wrong ?
Slowly, too slowly, he feels his leg begin to relax, though the echoes of pain remain. Beside him, Hob sleeps on, and part of Dream wants so badly to wake him, wants to know what happened and why. He wants, very badly, to be hugged. 
He turns away from Hob, keeping one hand on his leg, bracing for the pain to return at any moment.
Sleep does not return that night.
~~~
Hob is covering a shift at the New Inn, and he encouraged Dream to join him downstairs, excitedly going on about karaoke night and what fun Dream would surely have.
So far, Dream is not having fun.
There are bright, colorful lights illuminating a small makeshift stage, and everyone sings so loudly. Dream thinks the microphone must be unnecessary yet each person who takes a turn bellows directly into it, the speakers around the space thrumming with noise. When Hob manages to step away from his work to check in on Dream, they are forced to lean close to each other and yell, actually yell, Dream feels his throat becoming raw as the night goes on, his own voice carving him up.
He smiles at Hob and insists that he is having a good time.
When the night finally, finally ends, and Hob and Dream make their way back upstairs to the comfort of their flat, Dream almost stumbles when he realizes that the noise hasn’t stopped. There is a ringing, and he doesn’t just hear it, he feels it, and it’s inside his head. They step inside and it is silent but it’s not, the ringing follows him, like something from the evening has wormed its way inside his ears. He wants to press his hands against his ears, wants to scratch at them, to get whatever has invaded him out . 
Hob yawns and smiles at him, “What a night, huh?”
Dream smiles and nods and bites his tongue.
~~~
At one point, he actually bites his tongue. 
The pain is sharp and abrupt, quickly accompanied by the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth, and he doesn’t know what to do, that’s his blood , spilling into his own mouth, warm and sickly. He wants to spit it out, wants to press a hand to his tongue, wants to cry out just to know that he can, that he hasn’t damaged himself and invited another hundred years of silence with his own teeth.
Hob is in the next room.
Dream swallows.
~~~
When Dream wakes up, he feels… wrong.
He feels warm, but not a comfortable warm. Not the warmth of his perpetually cold body being bundled in blankets and Hob’s arms. No, it is an internal warmth, he feels like he’s radiating it, like the temperature of his blood has risen and now his skin is too tight. He has the strange compulsion to remove his shirt, to expose his arms and stomach to release some of the warmth. Sitting up, he blinks at the strange feeling of heat behind his eyes, and he realizes that his mouth is dry. He feels like a desert. 
The solution feels easy enough, though, and he stands to make his way to the kitchen. His limbs feel a little… floaty. But surely that too will be fixed by the glass of cool water he pours for himself. He gulps it down, and it hits his stomach heavily. He does feel better, but the heat has yet to dissipate. 
It probably just takes time.
He is filling his second glass when Hob wanders out of their room, rubbing his eyes and looking gorgeously sleep-ruffled. 
“Morning beautiful,” he greets, moving next to Dream to kiss the top of his head, “Ah, I had the same idea,” he grinned, grabbing a glass for himself to fill with water.
Dream sighs internally. Yes, this is nothing. Just another nothing.
The morning continues as normal, but Dream still feels… off. He cannot quite bring himself to finish the breakfast Hob has so kindly laid before him, and still the heat in his body persists. He finds himself drinking more water, his mouth drying rapidly each time he puts the glass down. Hob seems to still be waking, yawning between bites and grumbling about doing more zoom classes next term and sighing in relief that tomorrow is the weekend.
“You alright, dove?” 
Dream nearly flinches, hating that Hob had noticed anything. “Yes. I simply find I do not have much of an appetite this morning.”
“Want me to make you something else?” Hob offered.
“No, I’m fine,” Dream shook his head, “I will eat more once I’m more awake,” he insisted.
“Hah, I know that feeling,” Hob grinned, “Any plans for yourself today?” he inquired.
Currently, all Dream wants to do is go back to bed, but he tries to think of what he would do on a normal day while Hob is out, “I think I might go to the library. I have some books on hold that have come in.”
“Oh, lovely!” Hob grinned, “In that case, would you mind stopping by the market on your way home? There’s a couple things I keep forgetting to grab.”
Dream inexplicably feels like crying. Now he has to leave the house, he cannot claim later to have changed his mind, Hob has asked something of him and he cannot refuse him. Not after everything.
Smiling, he nods, “Of course. Just make a list for me, please.”
It feels like the blink of an eye and then Hob is kissing Dream chastely on the lips and hurrying out the door, leaving Dream alone in the quiet of the flat. For too long, he simply sits at the kitchen table, staring at nothing, wanting to crawl back into bed and sleep the day away but knowing that he can’t. That he shouldn’t.
It’s nothing.
Finally, he steels himself and stands, getting dressed on autopilot and tucking Hob’s grocery list into his pocket. As he steps outside, he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. His face feels warm, but his body is shivering, no matter how he tries to make it stop. The walk to the library feels longer than usual, and when he arrives he finds he has no desire to wander the shelves or to sit and read as he usually does. He simply collects the books he has reserved and turns to leave.
By the time he reaches the market, he feels nearly out of breath, and his body aches in a way that it does not usually after a mere walk. Deep in his chest, Dream is frightened. He feels like his body is simply failing him, like a machine with rusted gears and sparking wires. 
He shakes his head vigorously. This is nothing. It’s nothing . It is a human thing and he is overreacting, worrying for no need and acting like a scared child.
Hob would laugh at him. And Dream would deserve it.
Straightening his back, he tries to force normalcy upon himself, grabbing a basket and swiftly collecting the items Hob has requested. He pushes through the discomfort in his body, telling himself that the faster he finishes, the faster he can return home. 
When he exits the market, the sun is shining, and he thinks the weather must be warm, they are approaching summertime, and yet still he shivers. Gripping his bags tightly, he grits his teeth and makes his way home. He has always had strange temperature regulation, he often feels cold, this is nothing unusual. The persistent heat behind his eyes is nothing. The way he occasionally sways as he walks is nothing.
It takes him too long to climb the stairs to the flat, but eventually he makes it. He uses the last of his willpower to put the groceries away, hands trembling slightly. He realizes he is breathing heavily, and there is a rattling sensation in his chest. 
Stumbling into the bedroom, everything feels wrong. He wants to take his clothes off, can feel the fabric sticking to his skin from sweat, but he can’t stop shivering. When he breathes in his lungs feel like they’re crackling, like the soft tissue of his insides have hardened and begun to crumble. His body hurts, like he has fallen down the stairs but he hasn’t done anything, he doesn’t understand .
He never understands.
Crawling beneath the covers, Dream curls up and berates himself. This is nothing, just his new human body doing strange human things and Dream being a fool, like always. He will fall asleep, and when he wakes it will have passed, and he will continue on as he has every day. Even if he doesn’t understand , he knows , he knows he has to be better. The point of his becoming human was for him to change, to be less overdramatic, less petty, less prideful, less, less, less .
Dream has been a human for nearly three months and he is still too much. No amount of humanity can change that, it seems.
So the least he can do is conceal it. Folding in on himself beneath the covers, too hot and too cold and aching and afraid, he takes a breath and pretends that nothing is wrong. He falls asleep hoping he can pretend hard enough.
~~~
Dream feels worse when he awakes.
The heat is overwhelming, and he is not sweating, his skin dry and tight and hurting. His chest feels like it’s cracking with every inhale, and he aches down to his marrow. Distantly, he hears a door open and close. Blearily, he glances at the clock next to the bed and sees that it is mid afternoon, around the time Hob returns home and-
Hob.
Hob is home.
Even through the haze that feels like it’s smothering his thoughts, Dream still manages a panicked lurch to sit up. He can’t let Hob see him like this, he has to pull himself together, he has to be better -
“Honey, I’m home!” Hob calls out cheerily, the same teasing greeting he gives Dream every time he returns from anywhere, regardless of how long he had been gone. Swallowing, Dream struggles to force a response out.
“Welcome back,” He winces at the scratchiness of his voice, and the pain that came with trying to make himself heard. He hears footsteps approaching the bedroom and forces his legs over the side, trying to pull some semblance of normalcy around himself.
When Hob opens the door, he is smiling, “Afternoon nap kind of day?”
Dream nods, smiling, “It was. How were your classes?” His voice is still scratchy, but it can easily be explained away by having just woken.
“Pretty mellow all things considered-" He flips the lights on idly, Dream flinches minutely, the lights seemingly stabbing his overheated eyes, and as the room becomes illuminated Hob’s eyebrows raise.
“You look a little flushed, Love,” he smirks mischievously, “Sure you were just napping?”
Oh, Dream can’t even think about sex right now. He’s trying so hard not to shiver violently in front of Hob and he feels like his insides are boiling and everything hurts and he doesn’t know how to fix it.
Almost without thinking, he lurches to his feet, “I’m just. A little warm. From the blankets.” The room is spinning, it must be, because he is certain he is walking straight and yet he suddenly finds himself bracing himself against the wall.
If his thoughts weren’t so scattered, he might have noticed the smile fall from Hob’s face.
“Woah, hey, are you-“
“It’s nothing,” Dream gasps, pushing himself forward until he is stumbling past Hob out of the room, “I just. Need water.” Water made him feel a little better earlier, right? He clumsily bats Hob’s hands away when they reach for him.
“Hey, Love, are you feeling alright? You don’t seem-“
“Everything is fine,” the whole flat is swaying like a ship on the sea. He keeps one hand against the wall as he makes his way to where he thinks the kitchen is. He’s so hot. He’s so cold. When he blinks he sees the sink in front of him and veers towards it.
Hob is not laughing. He does not know if that is a good thing.
“Dream…” Hob follows closely, and Dream can’t see it but panic is starting to shine in his eyes, “Love, tell me what’s wrong-“
“Nothing!”
“Dream, hey, just let me-”
“It’s nothing!” Dream snaps. He is dimly aware that he can no longer hide his shaking, that he is clutching the kitchen counter desperately. 
Hob moves closer, hands held out as though approaching a wounded animal, “Dream, you’re not-”
“ Do not laugh at me .”
Dream had meant for it to be a command, but what comes out is a plea . Voice thready and weak, and there is water on his face and he does not know if it is sweat, or tears, or both. His knees buckle, and suddenly he is on the floor, Hob’s arm around his waist to keep him somewhat upright. 
Sobbing, he is too tired to even try to disguise his desperation, “ Please ,” he begs, he begs, “please do not laugh at me.”
Everything feels blurry and fuzzy. He thinks he feels Hob pulling him into his arms, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face, wiping at tears and speaking in a soft voice. And as he feels his vision darken at the edges, feels everything start to fall away, his last conscious thought is that he still cannot hear Hob’s laughter.
And he still doesn’t know what that means.
~~~
The first thing Dream becomes aware of as he drifts back into consciousness is the gentle sound of water. His brow furrows, and he wonders if he has somehow landed on the Shore of Dreams. A shiver runs through him, and he becomes aware that he is wet, submerged in cool water from his shoulders down. There is a band of warmth though, holding him securely around his waist, keeping him from falling under. His back is pressed against something firm and soft. The more he wakes, the more he recognizes it.
Hob. 
It takes more effort than he thinks it probably should, but Dream forces his eyes to open. His eyelids feel heavy, and his eyes feel warm, but he manages it. Glancing at his surroundings, it feels like his brain is running at half speed. He is in a bathtub- Hob’s bathtub- their bathtub- the lights are dimmed, and he is naked- no, he’s shirtless, his boxers are still on. His breaths are raspy and loud in the quiet, and when his head flops forward on his neck, he sees two strong, hair covered arms holding him around his middle.
Hob.
He blinks slowly, wants to say something, an apology, he thinks, but another shiver wracks his body and a soft whine escapes him. Hob pulls him closer, shushing him and whispering next to his ear.
“You’re alright, Love, everything’s alright. I know it feels cold but it’s not, I promise. We just need to get you cooled down, alright? I’m right here, dove.” He brings a hand up to pet softly down one of Dream’s limp arms.
“Wha-...” Dream’s tongue feels heavy and dry in his mouth, the words catching until he can’t remember what he was going to say in the first place.
Hob hushes him again, jostling him slightly as he reaches outside of the tub to a glass of water placed on the floor next to him. He holds it up to Dream’s mouth, gently tilting his head back when Dream’s arms continue to be uncooperative.
“Just take small sips, alright? Come on, sweetheart, just a little.”
Dream still feels… far away. He can’t decide if his body feels heavy or weightless, full of cotton or full of lead. But with Hob’s encouragement he’s able to drink some of the water, loosening his tongue and soothing his throat that he hadn’t even realized was sore. Hob places a couple pills in his mouth between sips, and Dream swallows them meekly, too consumed with trying to pull his thoughts together to be anything but docile and pliant in Hob’s hands.
Finally, as Hob places the glass back on the ground, Dream manages to ask weakly, “What happened?”
Hob swallows thickly behind him, his arms tightening just slightly around him as he leans down to speak against his skin, “You passed out. You had a very, very high fever, Love.” There’s a long pause, perhaps waiting for Dream to respond, but Dream doesn’t know what to say.
“Sweetheart,” the word is choked out, “why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
And this, this cuts through to something in Dream, and he pours all his meager energy into explaining, “It’s nothing. I know-... I know it’s nothing. Nothing. Won’t make a big deal over nothing. It’s nothi-”
“It’s not nothing ,” Hob interrupts, voice almost sharp, “Dream, I almost took you to the hospital. You were burning up, I was afraid you’d have a seizure or something!”
Dream’s eyes are burning, and it’s not until he feels the tears drip down his face that he realizes it’s not the fever. “Didn’ want to overreact,” his breath hitches, “‘M always overreacting. Always getting it wrong,” and here, he dips his head to his chest, his mind too muddled and miserable to filter, “Didn’t want you to laugh at me again.”
He regrets the words as soon as they pass his lips. He has already burdened Hob with his weakness, and now he will be disgusted by Dream’s pride, so fragile he cannot stand the joke he has become. Against his neck, he feels Hob inhale shakily a few times, gathering himself, and Dream wonders if this is the moment he finds out he is too much for Hob, just like he was too much for everyone. Maybe he finally found the limit of Hob’s love.
“Dream,” Hob’s voice is soft, heartbroken, ashamed. He tightens his arms around Dream’s chest, placing a gentle kiss to his shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”
Sluggishly, Dream shakes his head, because no, that’s not right, “No, Hob, you-”
“Listen to me,” Hob interrupts, voice pleading, “I swear to you, I was never, ever laughing at you.” 
It is a sick kind of irony that Hob’s words make Dream laugh. It is rasping and weak, and dissolves quickly into sobs.
“You should laugh at me,” he confesses, “I failed as an Endless, and now I am failing as a human.”
“That’s not true,” Hob sounds devastated, “That’s not true at all-“
“I should have known that becoming human wouldn’t fix me,” Dream barrels on, barely taking in Hob’s words, “It’s me, I just- I’m always failing, I cannot do anything right -“
“ Dream .”
He chokes on the next sob. His whole body still hurts and his head is still fuzzy but something in him manages to break at the harsh way Hob snapped his name. Hob so rarely got angry. Maybe this is something else Dream has ruined.
Dream can feel the way Hob’s chest expands with a deep breath, Dream’s own body moving with it, the water rippling around them. Hob’s arms loosen and more tears spill down Dream’s face at the sensation of being let go.
Only for a moment though.
“Dream…”
There is no anger this time. Only a deep, deep sadness. Hob adjusts his hold, gently maneuvering Dream in the tub until he is curled loosely in Hob’s lap, one hand guiding his face to press against the crook of his neck. His other hand sweeps up and down his spine soothingly. Dream sniffles weakly, so relieved to be held and still not understanding.
“You’re not failing,” Hob whispers into his hair, “You didn’t fail as an Endless, and you’re not failing now, I promise.” There is desperation in his voice, “Please, love, you have to believe me. You’re doing wonderful. I’m sorry for laughing. I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t succeeding. You chose to do something very different, and just because you struggle sometimes doesn’t mean you’re doing badly.”
Dream swallows thickly, eyes burning with tears of disbelief. Hob rubs soothing circles across his aching back, tucking Dream’s head beneath his chin as he whispers, “The truth is,” his voice drips with sincerity, “The truth is that being human is scary . I’ve been doing it for 600 years and it still frightens me sometimes. I can’t die, but there’s still the pain, the illness, the uncertainty of it all. Everytime I think I know what I’m doing I feel like the whole world gets flipped around and I end up stumbling to reorient myself.”
A quiet sob breaks through his words, and it takes Dream a moment to realize that it had come from him. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but he knows that what Hob is describing is… familiar.
It is how he has felt every day since becoming human.
Hob kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, pulling Dream impossibly closer, “I thought… maybe laughing would make it less scary,” he confesses, “I only ever laughed because I thought maybe it would comfort you. I thought if I laughed, if I made light of the situation, you’d see there wasn’t anything to be afraid of. That I was there, and we were together. I just didn’t want you to be afraid.”
There is deep regret in his voice, “But that doesn’t change that being human is scary, and it is hard. I never should have minimized that. And I’ve never, ever , thought you anything less than the bravest person I know.”
This time, the sob is not quiet. Dream clenches his eyes shut, dipping his head as more sobs escape him, his chest heaving with them as he shakes in Hob’s arms. If he had the strength he would curl up around himself, pull away from comfort he does not deserve, but he is too weak and so Hob keeps them pressed together.
“I do not feel brave,” Dream chokes out, “I feel… pathetic . And weak, and, and useless . Just a dead weight for you to carry.” He feels his face growing hot, and he does not know if it is the fever or the overwhelming shame. He does not know if it matters.
“One day… you will stop finding it funny. You will lose patience, you will grow tired of caring for me, you will grow tired of me , I can’t-” Hob tries to shush him, but Dream shakes his head, his words becoming breathless as he tries to speak through his sorrow. His fear.
“I can’t keep burdening you,” he gasps desperately, “I can’t lose you-”
“You won’t,” Hob interrupts, his voice gentle and firm, “Not ever. Dream, Love, it’s not a burden to care for you. I want to help you. You chose to stay with me, and I’m choosing to stay with you.”
It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel possible that Hob would choose this. But his tears have sapped what little energy he had, and Dream finds himself sagging in Hob’s arms, and Hob holds him like he means to stay. Like he doesn’t plan on letting go.
“Hob,” he croaks out, a shiver wracking his frame, “I don’t feel good.”
“I know. I know, sweetheart,” Hob presses kisses against his hair. 
He holds him tighter.
~~~
Dream dozes against Hob’s chest for an undetermined amount of time, only waking when Hob moves to drain the tub and dry them both off. Blinking, he finds his head is clearer, and while he is still warmer than usual, he no longer feels like he is burning from the inside. He feels more in control of his limbs as well, but Hob still insists on helping him dress.
“The meds are definitely helping. You can have some more in a few hours, but for now I think sleep will do you a world of good.”
Sleep does in fact sound amazing, so Dream nods amicably. 
When he’s better, Hob will gently pry all the things Dream has held back for weeks out of him. Dream will cry and confess to all the things he doesn’t understand, to all the things that scare him, and Hob will not laugh. Hob will share stories of his own fears, past and present, the things he still doesn’t understand himself even after 600 years of being human. When something new and strange happens to Dream, Hob will start asking him to explain what he’s feeling, to explain his fears, and Hob will talk him through it until, by some miracle, eventually they are able to laugh together about this strange thing called humanity. Time will pass and Dream will grow into his new life with Hob beside him, and they will be scared together and they will be happy together and they will live together.
Tonight, Hob holds Dream through his fever, and Dream sleeps, and his nightmare doesn’t come because he is not afraid.
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crrneliastreet · 2 years
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namor-shuri · 1 year
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….I’ll be there for you at your lowest….
….and at your highest moments in time….
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….Rooting you on….
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….No matter if you feel like you are winning….
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....or losing right now….
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bobyram · 2 months
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no but if i was an nhl player and was staring down a few days off and then fans said actually you don’t get that holiday, you have to go and do silly little hockey things all weekend i would lose my mind
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littleskrimp · 1 year
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NOT ALBA COMING BACK TO TWITTER AFTER 2 YEARS JUST FOR THIS
She doesn’t deserve this. 😭
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Piper: How well do you two know each other's backstories?
Percy: I know that Annabeth has abandonment issues due to her shaky relationship with her father, Frederick Chase and her step-mother, whose first name I don't remember BUT I know she took her husband's last name.
Percy: Annabeth overheard that Athena was completely surprised Frederick with a baby, and he didn't want her at first, but he tries. Annabeth tried to live with him at 10 years old and 12 years old but couldn't keep up with the monsters.
Percy: Mrs. Chase didn't believe Annabeth about spiders when Annabeth was 6 because she didn't know about Annabeth being a demigod. Annabeth ran away because of that.
Percy: I've tried to help by introducing Annabeth to my mom (who is the best person in the world) and Paul Jackson (who is the best step-parent in the world) and we've welcomed her anytime at our home.
Piper: Wow! Thats amazing! 10/10 Boyfriend goals!
Piper: What about you, Annabeth?
Annabeth: Seaweed brain? Hmm. I think he had a step-father who's name was Gabe? Gabe something. Also I think he might've been stinky. Tartarus reminded Percy of him.
Piper:
Piper: *looks at her notes, which list that Gabriel Ugliano used to regularly call Percy brain boy, humiliate him due to his poor grades and learning disabilities, threatened to "punch Percy's lights out" if he ever revealed their 'guy secret', had a gambling addiction that caused Percy to grow up with financial insecurity, used to leave layers of trash in Percy's room while he was away at school (which probably got moldy), and abused Percy's mom so badly that Percy, Sally and Poseidon all decided that Gabe needed to die*
Piper: Is that it?
Annabeth: Yep. Well, I know he was repeatedly kicked out of school like most demigods are, but that's it.
Piper:
Annabeth: Why, did I miss something?
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