oof it's been AGES since i did that. i'll try and float a few

• the first shitty, used car that dream got in high school was the most horrific shade of brownish-yellow that he's ever seen and his friends DID absolutely drag him for it, so every single car he's gotten since has been a painfully boring gray to compensate for that trauma
• dream is genuinely afraid of dogs, despite his deep desire to not be. he pet his neighbor's pomeranian when he first moved in and it's just about the bravest thing he's done in a while
• (this will mean nothing if you've never been to chicago but this one is for me only) one of george's coworkers dragged him all the way out to kasia's immediately after he moved in, and he has been veritably obsessed with pierogis ever since. he makes the hour-long hike every other month to stock his freezer because he SWEARS the prepackaged ones they sell in the local grocery stores don't taste the same
• cat has this dumb neon yellow collar with bows all over it that george bought as a joke, but it's been two years and he's starting to think it's not a joke anymore
• dream isn't the most outdoorsy guy, but he got dragged into camping in the eastern sierra nevadas with some of his friends in college and it immediately became one of his favorite places on earth
• george had hamsters growing up, and absolutely lost his seven-year-old mind when the first one died. there's still a little single-brick tombstone in the family home's back garden, even though the text george had painted on it has long since worn off from exposure to the sun and the rain
• on george's second time staying over at dream's, he snored incredibly loudly for a solid hour, and dream has just chosen to never, ever bring this up. it hasn't happened again since
• down the line (meaning: when they're together), they try to buy a bigger cat tree and spend about three weeks viciously bickering about it before simply not buying one because it turns out that patches is now enamored with an old hat box that dream picked up at a flea market one saturday
• george has, in fact, picked up all of dream's streaming passwords since they started their arrangement. during their period of separation, dream would occasionally check george's profiles to see what he was watching. it was all nature shows, for some reason (this is about me sobbing over albatrosses while rewatching Planet Earth after my first break up)
• finally, a correction: the italian cut hc was from before dream face revealed and turns out that his shoulders are too broad for that to be the best cut on him i fear. i'm not gonna let that man look like andrew tate with his sausage-casing suits so i revoke it i'm so sorry to break it to you like this. he wears british cuts instead because that gives some breathing room in shaping while still giving him a grabble waist. i hope that is consolation enough

it's been so long at this point that i hardly remember the details of what truly came first motivation-wise haha. but, writing's always been a way for me to express myself, and 11/12-year-old me had a lot of things to work through and express at the time, unfortunately. rather than writing angsty bullshit in a diary i could never hide well enough, though, it made a lot more sense to try and actually contribute to communities that i found some solace in, and i think that was ultimately the root of it. even now, while i'm in a very different place, most of the stuff i publish has a lot of me and my life experience still in it, and i get to entertain other people at the same time :) best of both worlds

hey! thanks for such an even-keeled response to all of that mess i wrote (i'm used to very different reactions from people very dedicated to yelling at me, hence why i don't talk about it much haha). i definitely understand where you're coming from and, even if our paths diverged in the end and we ultimately disagreed, i also respect your own conclusions and understand how you got to them. this is my first time being in a fandom built around real human beings, and it's been...a learning experience, to say the least. i appreciate you taking the time to read everything that i put down, and thank you for your kind reply :) nothing but love to you, as well!

this also hits on "mess," which someone else asked for. last one for sending in a word here!

George feels like he’s frozen in place, diminutive in Dream’s shadow and wilting from the attention. His heart rate ticks up by more than it should from their proximity: close enough to see the dusting of faint freckles on his shoulders, faded by months of being hidden away from the punishing winter. Dream lays a hand on his own and slightly turns him toward the mirror and he watches in real time as he appears in duplicate, slightly blurred by the soft rolling steam collecting on its glass. But, even with that waterborne haze, it doesn’t take him long to make out the ghost of ravenous teeth and possessive hands.

Marks positively litter his skin: they begin halfway up his neck, then trace down over crooks of bone and webbed sinew, down the planes of his chest and the hollows of his ribs until they worsen dramatically around his hips. He can practically see Dream’s handprints there, his grip so unrelenting and unmerciful last night that he had surely held him by bone. As if sensing his thoughts, the man responsible traces playfully down his sides until he can line up his hands with the damage they had left once more, softly settling in the slim dip there. It is so breathtakingly gentle this time, yet the strain of possession still lingers heavy.

“See? Such a mess.”

(send me a word on retro and, if it's in the sd12 draft, i'll post the passage it's in)

Lost to his admirations and an overly petulant heart, he fails to register that Dream is watching him, too: more intently than he expected. “Are you feeling okay today, George?” He asks in a voice that is far warmer than he deserves. “I know there wasn’t…that I didn’t really do much last night, but you just seemed to exhausted, and I just—”

“You’re starting to ramble,” George gently cuts him off, knowing that this sentence will continue to run along unabated unless he steps in before it truly gets going. “Like you said: I was tired. I don’t think I stayed awake for more than a few minutes afterwards.”

It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks a bit like a wet dog, but there’s a funny expression twisting his features just enough for it to be noticeable. “You didn’t answer my question, George,” It isn’t angry or even annoyed, but there is the thinnest ribbon of a lethal current of disappointment underlying it. “Come on, we talked about this.”