#i would say bed or mattress

[obnoxiousarcade]

yet again sleeping on some thing moldy

[valeriianz]

had thoughts about Dream being able to sleep, how soft and human he would look. for your consideration:

Hob announced his arrival from work with a long sigh, heavy with exhaustion, and leaned into the door as he opened it and stepped into his flat. He dropped his keys in the little bowl and toed off his shoes. He had just shrugged off his messenger bag when he noticed a pair of large black boots in the living room, stark against his off-white rug. They were about a meter apart, like they’d been kicked off or tossed aside without a second thought.

With one brow raised, eyes scrupulous, Hob deposited his bag on the couch and bent down to pick up first one boot, then the other, tucking them together and neatly placing them on the wooden floor next to a bookshelf.

“Dream?” Hob called out, straightening up and casting his gaze upon the room. It wasn’t like Dream, when he paid surprise visits, to not immediately be within eyesight of the door, let alone leave his shoes haphazardly on the carpet.

Hob’s eyes landed on the entryway of the hall, spotting Dream’s thick, long coat in a heap on the center of the floor. Worry began to creep in as Hob slowly stepped up to Dream’s mystical coat, his pulse thrumming under his skin. He stooped down, grabbing it by the collar and brushing it off with his other hand. The material felt luxurious in Hob’s hands, soft like cashmere or shahtoosh, but also durable– something akin to wool or even canvas. Hob’s fingers caressed the fabric, feeling the lip of the tall collar between his thumb and fingers. 

Gently folding the coat over one arm, Hob continued down the hall, stepping softly, carefully. 

Hob’s bedroom door was open, the rays of the setting sun streamed in through the window and lit up the entryway, revealing more dark clothes in a jumble leading into the room.

Swallowing, lips parting, Hob bent down once more to collect Dream’s t-shirt, his pants and, following the line of mayhem, his socks, taking them all into his arms. Hob wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he finally straightened up and turned, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Hob almost dropped all the clothes he had spent carefully collecting, his mouth going dry. 

There was a considerable, person-sized lump in Hob’s bed, buried under his thick gray comforter. The only indication that it was indeed Dream laying in Hob’s bed, was the mane of wild dark hair poking out from the mass of linens.

Hob took a step forward, then another, crushing the pile of clothes to his chest as he walked around the bed, his gaze transfixed to the top of Dream’s head– a smattering of black ink spilled on his white pillow. He held his breath as he finally came to face Dream, the only part of him sticking out was his nose and eyes, Dream’s impossibly long lashes draped down, threatening to brush the tops of his cheeks.

Hob felt his jaw drop, lips parting in wonder at this ethereal creature in his bed.

Dream was sleeping.

Or… it looked like he was sleeping. The shape of him steadily rose and fell, imitating breath that Hob knew Dream didn’t need. Hob didn’t think Dream needed sleep, either… or was even capable of it. Was Dream sick? Had he been injured?

Hob quietly deposited the bundle of clothes into a wicker chair in the corner of his room, turning back to Dream and leaning over him, slowly pressing one hand into the mattress next to him, and bringing the other up to lay it against Dream’s forehead.

Hob immediately felt foolish, of course Dream didn’t get sick, he’d nearly beaten it into Hob by now, how Endless never fall ill (not in the way humans do, apparently), but Dream did actually feel quite warm. Hob moved his hand from underneath Dream’s soft fringe, grazing his fingers down the side of his head, brushing the shell of his ear, cheekbone, and across his pointed nose, unable to get any further with the blanket folded up tight around half his face.

With his heart lighter than it’d felt in a long time, Hob couldn’t resist carefully hooking his fingers around the edge of the comforter, leaning in close as he pulled it down to expose Dream’s lips and chin. He looked softer, like this– human and vulnerable. There’s a trust here, Hob knows, his chest tightening, as his knuckles caress down the line of Dream’s jaw, free of blemishes and marble smooth. Hob swallowed again, his eyes flicking down in unrestricted interest at the line of Dream’s concealed body, cocooned in creamy grays. He looked back up, focusing on plush lips that are too red for Dream’s alabaster skin, like they’d been bitten.

Hob’s own teeth pull on his bottom lip, moving his hand to press a thumb against that mouth, barely touching, like a paint brush, dragging it from corner to corner.

“What are you doing?”

Hob huffed a surprised laugh, but didn’t remove his hand. Dream’s voice was lower than usual, thick, and rumbly, pulled from a deep slumber.

“Checking your temperature,” Hob answered in a whisper. His breath caught in his throat as Dream’s eyelids fluttered open, crystal blue eyes focusing right on him.

Christ almighty, he was gorgeous. Hob still couldn’t believe it sometimes, that he was allowed to see this, to be regarded by such beauty, such a divine entity. That he could call Dream his, and be confident in the knowledge that he was Dream’s, too. Hob felt himself begin to shake, his thumb was still at Dream’s lips, which had parted slightly when he’d spoken, his hot breath hitting Hob and causing something both carnal and pure to race through his blood, something devotional.

“You’re quite warm,” Hob tried again. Dream hadn’t spoken, only watched him, like he was waiting for something.

“Yes,” Dream’s voice ran over Hob in that velvety way of his; a warm tide crashing over him and lifting Hob up.

“I was seeking warmth. You weren’t home, and I know how pleasant you are after a long rest.”

“Pleasant?” Hob’s lips curled in a smile, distractedly pressing his thumb a little harder against Dream’s bottom lip.

“Tepid.” Dreams amended, parting his lips and allowing Hob’s thumb access.

Hob gasped softly as Dream bit down, his eyes blazing now, the black of his iris growing so there was no more blue. Hob hummed, his fingers curled around Dream’s chin, tilting it up.

There’s a tongue that swipes the tip of his thumb and Hob knows he’s lost, feigning nonchalance was never his strong suit when it came to this entity in his bed. His heart crashes against his ribs and Hob’s sure Dream can hear it, can hear the desire there.

A bare arm slips out from the pile of gray and latches onto Hob’s bicep, pulling him down. Hob goes along with a smile, getting one knee up on the bed, then the other, dislodging his fingers from Dream’s face to steady himself.

They lift the comforter together, allowing Hob to crawl in next to Dream. The shock of the sudden temperature hike against Dream’s bare skin makes Hob’s breath catch, desperately wishing he’d taken his clothes off first.

“Christ, Dream it’s like a furnace under here.” He’s never felt Dream radiate so much heat before. He truly was learning something new about this man– Endless, every day.

Dream’s long arm pulls the blanket back down, going around Hob’s middle and tucking it under him, coaxing Hob to be flush against his sinew body, usually firm with restrained strength, now soft from sleep. Dream’s chin tilts down, lips brushing Hob’s forehead.

“Could be hotter,” he murmurs, lips traveling down, his sharp nose nudging against Hob’s face, encouraging him to meet him evenly.

Hob is already panting, he’s sure he’s already sweating too, but he meets Dream’s mouth eagerly, pressing hard, getting his hand back on his face to cup Dream’s jaw.

“Well,” Hob pants as Dream wetly breaks the kiss, pressing his lips instead up Hob’s face and into his hairline. “I certainly wasn’t expecting this today.”

Dream hums, the sound reverberating down his body and tickling Hob’s senses. 

“I’m pleased I can still surprise you.”

[artistheworld]

@centuryberry

chapter 16 spoilers

Him <333

Recovering in the Dragon’s Palace

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[thecounterfeit-redhead]

Whoever is doing the costume design should get an award for how they made Crusty look ~crusty~ cause wow that was just *chefs kiss*

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Urgh ok I go eep now. Mentally I'm here

[kalach-cha]

ikea has me seriously questioning my will to live

[billiethepoet]

Me, almost a year ago: Yes! Let's start house hunting! I'm ready to move! But when we sell our house. I'm not doing any of the fixing. We're going to hire somebody to do that.

Me, almost 6 months ago: Yay! Our offer has been accepted. Now we have to get our house ready to sell. We're hiring somebody to do all the fixing and the painting because I hate this shit.

Me, 4 months ago: Okay, we're all moved out now! We can start figuring out what needs six so we can get this place on the market. Remember we have to hire somebody to do all the fixing.

Me, a month ago: I am too overwhelmed to book a handyman to fix things. Mr. Mac, this has to be your responsibility.

Me, 2 weeks ago: Oh, you talk to one handyman and decided it was too expensive? So he's going to fix the two things you don't want to do and we have to do everything else? Great exactly what I said I wanted all along.

Me, this weekend: *gets to spend all weekend painting after a week spent un-caulking and fixing other random shit*😒😒😒

[muu-kun]

Although a chronic insomniac, Muu also has maintained an unrelenting fear of the dark over the years. Hence why not only is his room filled with quite the abundant array of nightlights of varying sizes and styles, he also prefers to aim for slumber at as early as 9pm in the evening as a means of existing under the stars as limited in quantity as possible.

Additionally aimed to provide him comfort, he routinely shares his bed with both his dog, and his most beloved stuffed animals. Including that of a very well loved hedgehog plush in particular named Aime Jr, a posable yellow bear from Ikea, and many, many others. It is actually more surprising how he fits onto his own bed more than anything else. If at all inquired as to why so many in the first place, his answer is quite consistently an admittance that he is aiming to not be seen by an intruder, or monster, no matter how rare it would be for one to enter his home just in general.

[clonewarsahsoka]

I've just had such an awful fucking time

[salsakiyoomi]

“you tempt me.”

sukuna says as you walk into the chamber, in nothing but a thin nightgown that clings to all the right places and leaves little to the imagination.

“...i didn't do anything?” you say, confused as you dry your hair with a towel and make your way over to the mattress where he is laying on his side of the bed.

“everything you do is tempting.” he says pointedly.

“i'm not sure whether this is an insult or a compliment.” you respond, smiling at him.

he stares at you for a few moments, and although he would never admit it — he admires the way you look, the curve of your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes and the way they sparkle, the way your damp hair frames your face — everything about you was just so tempting. that's the only way he could describe it.

and god, not to mention your body — your curves and contours and the thin nightgowns you usually wear that highlight your body so irresistibly.

“ryo,” you coo softly as you notice his lingering gaze, “what’s on your mind?”

“why must you infuriate me?” he asks, and you quirk an eyebrow, letting out a surprised laugh, “i literally didn't do anything.”

he scoffs — even the way you laugh was tempting him, and it wasn't in a bad way.

maybe that's what infuriates him.

it's sickening, the hold you have on him.

“ryo,” you coo again, and he scoffs again, “call me that one more time.” he warns and you laugh once more.

“c'mere.” you hum, climbing on his lap and instinctively his hands come at your hips, gripping and kneading the soft flesh gently.

your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him closer, pecking his lips for a moment and sukuna tries to convince himself that there is no growing heat on his face.

you pull away after a moment, resting your forehead against his as his gaze bores into you and he ignores the increasing speed of his heart.

he scoffs, “temptation.”

taglist : @samaraxmorgan

[bladeofthestars]

.

[dinosnaurnuggets]

Someday I’m gonna get to lay on a big, soft, comfy bed and the world is gonna be better

[neverendingford]

.

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[shigussy]

sometimes i remember my last bed and wonder how i slept on it so long