#Good Lord help you if you're wearing headphones

[strawberrybuni]

🧵 anon here just wanted to say I hope your having an amazing day you are genuinely so cool and an amazing writer <3

Also regarding your recent post (I hope im not overstepping here, please feel free to ignore or tell me to mind my business lol I will not be offended) I wouldn’t worry too much about being seen as rude- i have an auditory processing disorder so I miss people talking to me or need them to repeat themselves all the time and I’ve found that people usually get that it’s not an intentional thing just a mistake if you just let them know you didn’t hear them and are not ignoring them on purpose.

I’ve found headphones are fairly easy to explain and a lot of people like to wear them in public so I’m sure most understand and I doubt anyone thinks youre rude for it (especially seeing as it is a common honest mistake) unless they’re weird about manners or kind of a dick or something in which case I don’t have an answer tbh

If you want it to be more clear that you are listening to music you could try getting some cheap overear headphones as they tend to be more visible though some people find them uncomfortable to wear.

PS re-reading some of your old stuff (the one with asking the jjk characters about a bite mark tattoo) and the reader calling Mahito a biter made me giggle really hard and also I 100% agree that’s something he’d do. Also sweet gods your dialogue is all so in character and widely varied character to character in ways that fit really perfectly and I also like the way you write the reader themself quite a lot and good lord you are so good at this I am impressed every time I re read your work

(Feel like I should mention I am very sleepy rn so this message may or may not be totally coherent, but yeah I hope you are taking care of yourself and doing well and though just hearing someone else say it isn’t super helpful I do honestly find that most people are usually not judging you for small things as much as you think especially if there is a clear and reasonable explanation which there 100% is in this case <3)

(Also again I hope I’m not overstepping or anything and I hope my sleepy brain didn’t phrase any of this in an accidentally rude way or something; my ability to convey tone goes down 100% when im sleepy but I just wanted to let you know that I doubt you are being judged and I know just being told that doesn’t solve the issue or anything but might be good to hear? Idk im gonna stop talking I think I might be starting to repeat myself now lol)

(Also sorry this got so long lol)

I swear you always know how to make me go 🥺 I hope you're having an even MORE amazing day!!

oh you're not overstepping at all!!! I always get so worried ugh, I think what doesn't help is that I use earbuds, and I have fluffy curly hair that covers my ears so people can't see if I'm wearing headphones or not(it's how I've gotten away with it at work and in class teehee), but you're right usually when I'm like OMG IM SORRY I HAD HEADPHONES IN they're always very understanding! I just overthink 🥺

no bc mahito is SO a biter like omg, but thank you so much for your kind words 🥹 I'm really happy you like how i write my reader! maybe other writers can relate, but my reader is very much myself tbh, like some of my friends who know of my blog have read some of my stuff and been like "why is that literally a conversation we've had?" LOL

you can thank my one short film teacher for teaching me his tips and tricks when it comes to writing dialog for scripts fr fr, I learned from him :3

also also don't apologize! I deeply enjoy hearing what you have to say 🫶🏻

[iwantabatlleaxe]

PART 2 :)

This may only apply if you live in dangerous cities but:

1. No walking around at night alone, especially in streets without people or cops

2. If you wear headphones/earbuds outside, leave one ear alone. It's good to have a sense of your surroundings. Once a motorcycle almost hit me because the driver thought going in the sidewalk was a good idea and I almost didnt hear him

3. Dont look lost, even if you are. Walk with your head high and walk into a store so then you can ask for directions, ask for an uber or look at google maps.

4. Know your way back. If you dont have a sense of direction to get back to where you were, don't venture out too much if you're alone. Also, just... Be careful. I live near a... Slum? Tf is that name? Favela, and didnt know.

This type of place, is what I mean:

And, even though I know little about it, I know I dont wanna walk in there by accident since I'd stick out as a sore thumb and drug lords are the ones doing the whole law thing there.

Ok dangerous cities aside:

4. Are you an overthinker like me? Well, you're in good luck, for I have a few solutions to deal with episodes!

Call your friends, family, those mystical messager boys. Talk about your problems, or not, but believe me, you're not oversharing or crossing boudaries unless they say so. 9/10 times people like to help and get out of their own problems.

And walk around. Talk to the cashier you see everytime at the market, the lady who owns a family store and is kind, talk about the weather, feel the air on your skin.

Just get out of your own air.

5. Buy or make the funny little things.

Does it bring joy? A funny lamp? A cool sock? Plastic flowers? Get them.

6. Have a water bottle outside the fridge. I put two cups next to it and a little flower so I get motivated to drink. (Just leave the cups upside down or they'll get dusty)

7. Avoid having alcoholic drinks and/or other drugs inside your house if you have self destructive tendencies from time to time.

Tips for living alone for the first time

I moved out a year ago and thought it'd be cool to share what I've learned so you don't have to suffer as much :,)

Decide a day to sit down and pay all bills and everyone

Know and accept you won't get your initial budget right, it took me a year

Google is your friend, but people are better.

Especially when looking for cheap markets and places to eat, or safe streets to walk around, people know more than google.

4. Speaking of cheap markets... get those (free) memberships for discounts. But most importantly, dowload and check every supermarket app and search for the cheapest one.

5. When looking for a place to live, try to speak with people who live there and check google maps reviews and your countrys site for custumers complaints.

6. You likely don't need to clean as often as your family told you, but cleaning your place will make you feel better. And you gotta clean the fridge. And hair. So much hair.

7. If you don't have a fridge, just a small cooler, check if the building has a common fridge/kitchen and Don't. Be. Shy to use it please.

I recommend not moving into a place without a fridge if you don't plan on eating out or going to the market every two days.

8. Carry your documents with you, or write them down or make a copy. I recommend not carrying the original since if you lose it/get mugged it's a pain in the ass to get it fixed.

9. Cook as much as you can in one go, but don't overwhelm yourself. Get those washed vegetables and cut onions, do what you need so you don't end up exhausted and crying on the floor... not that I've ever done that myself...

10. It's gonna feel hard at times and that's ok! The freedom is worth it, and after a year I'm really happy with all the progress I've made

11. Avoid pets, especially in a scenario that you're moving around or in a small studio or with financial difficulties (this can change from ppl to ppl etc)

12. Join or make a chat group with everyone in the building, without the sindicate so y'all can be honest about complains and create a single, solid complaint before showing it to the sindicate. (apartment manager? syndic? assignee? idk, whoever fixes things)

That's all I can remember for now, feel free to ad or correct me if you like :)

[anotherweirdhunterfromspn]

Eddie being impressed by your voice

Summary: The reader is skipping classes, losing his time at the forest and hearing music with his Walkman. Unknowing that Eddie "The freak" Munson was hearing him singing. Characters: Male reader x Eddie Munson. Stranger Things Masterlist

Eddie Munson was walking towards his usual spot at the forest, to smoke weed while he skips his classes (as usual). The reason? He doesn't have a good reason for it, he just feels like he needed to be out there and be alone for a little.

Yet, his secret place was occupied by someone else.

Eddie almost growls frustrated, he was about to turn around and forget about it when he heard it. The (Y/H/C) guy was humming the intro of Paranoid from Black Sabbath, before to singing it shyly with his headphones on.

Eddie walked closer, just a couple steps to hear him better.

The guy has, perhaps, his same age or a year younger. He didn't look like a metalhead or anything, he was just wearing some blue jeans and a dark brown jacket that looks slightly bigger than him.

Eddie tried to remember where he had seen him before, but he couldn't come out with anything at all. It was likely that he was new in Hawkins, or Eddie has never shared a class with him (when he isn’t skipping those).

Well, he can ask about it later. All he cares it’s that his voice is incredible. Despite of singing lowly, Eddie can tell there is something. Potential.

The other guy just needs a little more practice and be less shy over it, and he will rock it.

Eddie stood there hearing him singing while he is... Drawing? or taking notes? He can't see it clearly, but the other was looking down at something.

Around the time the song must be reaching its end, Eddie was bussing like a child in a candy store. The other stopped humming, the song ended, and he was checking out something in his Walkman.

Eddie jumped closer. "YES, BABE." He shouted out as he claps his hands. "I NEED YOU IN MY BAND! THATS ALL."

"HOLLY SHIT, MAN." The other jumped on his spot, his book fell from his lap. He turned around to see who was the madman that almost kills him from a heart attack. "SINCE WHEN ARE YOU THERE!?"

His face is flustered, he picked up his book from the ground. Eddie noticed that he has a plain white t-shirt, he doesn’t look like a metalhead at all. If it weren't because he just heard him singing a song from Black Sabbath, he would have never believed the other to be one. "I have been here long enough." He explained, walking closer to the other as the (Y/H/C) guy stood on his spot. "And you, my friend." He made a pause, pointing at the other male. "You have a beautiful voice."

The other laughed nervous, looking away from Eddie. "Shut up, it’s horrible." He tried to walk away, but Eddie got in his way.

"I'm speaking the true, Sunshine!" The other's cheeks turned red when he called him -Sunshine-. Eddie almost laughed. "You just need a little more practice, thats all." He smiled at the other, noticing that he was thinking about it. "I have a band, you could join us and practice with us. I will gladly help you."

The other chucked, he is nervously looking down at the book on his hand. He has been reading Frankenstein, cute. "You don't even know me."

Eddie laughed before to raise both of his hands. "Well, you got me in there. I have no idea who you are." He tilted his head, he knows he looks silly when he does it. The other was smiling, trying to not laugh at his childish behavior. "Neither you know me. I could be a serial killer, or a satanic cult leader about to kidnap you and turn you into my next sacrifice for our lord and you will never know."

The other finally laughed. "Shut up!" He looks back at Eddie when the curly-haired teen put both of his hands over his head to make it looks like he has horns or something. "You're being silly."

Eddie smiled at that. "I'm Eddie Munson, people usually call me a freak not silly. But I will give you the honor to call me that, Sunshine." He paused, motioning at you with both of his hands. "Babe, this is the time you tell me your name."

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)." He said shortly, watching as Eddie points at him again.

"You, my little sunshine, need to join my band. Like, seriously." Eddie keeps pointing at him, with both of his hands. "(Y/N), your voice is amazing. And you like Black Sabbath. That’s all I need to drag you into my little circle of friends."

[secondratefiction]

A thought just came to mind: female reader who is quiet bookworm helps Bucky adjust to the world, shows him Disney and Harry Potter; I also picture Bucky as really touch-starved and craves affection

I don't remember the original post, but I do remember reading something about Steve and Bucky really liking the original Disney movies that came out before they got caught up in the war. I will die on that hill because there is something so pure about it to me.

So....

- In all honesty, the two of you should have never crossed paths. He's one of the working heros, you're one of many technical analysts that feed them infromation on different happenings in the world...

- However, he happened to be walking by the same break room you were taking your lunch break in when he heard something that brought up an actual good memory.

- Fantasia wasn't your favorite movie per say, but the music was nice, the colors were pretty, and the animations were cute. It was a break from all the other stuff you were dealing with.

- Normally you'd be wearing headphones if you were watching something in the break room, but you were alone, and it wasn't turned up very loud. And, later down the road, you would never be more grateful you hadn't been using them.

- Bucky is hesitant at first. It feels weird walking up to this random stranger just because he recognizes the movie their watching but ultimately going through with asking if you would mind him sitting down to watch, at least for a few minutes.

- Eventually he tells you that he'd gone to see it in theaters several times. This leads to the two of you talking about different movies - ones you'd grown up with, new ones he'd caught up on - well past your lunch break and whatever meeting he was supposed to be in.

- He makes a point to walk you back to your office, apologizing for keeping you. Your boss doesn't look happy, but who's really going to argue with the winter soldier when he says he'd needed your assistance with somethings?

- He brushes off your concern about the things he'd missed though, assuring you that it's fine and no one is going to hold it against him.

"It helps when they think you're crazy"

- Its a good amount of time after that. You're pretty sure it was a one off event, and you're content to have had your afternoon with Sgt. Barns and file it away as a story to tell one day.

- But then Bucky has a bad day. And he can't shake it. And all he wants is to get away from everybody.

- You find him in the breakroom again, several coworkers having told you to stay away from there without any explanation of why... You've never been more greatful for your overwhelming sense of curiosity.

- You approached him from the front, though he didn't seem to see you. And he flinched badly when you touched his shoulder, making you quickly draw your hand back, sitting down next to him cautiosly and put your phone on the table

"Hey... you wanna watch a movie?"

- You just sit there with him and let the movie play. You're about halfway through Pinocchio when his shoulders start to relax.

- That's how you spend the rest of your afternoon. And it becomes a thing after that.

- Once or twice a week, when he's home, the two of you meet up after work and watch movies. It started with the Disney animated movies, but you also soon branched out into things Harry Potter, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings.

- Bucky still insists his favorites will always be the Disney movies though.

[lustgoddesstm]

Can i request a drabble or Sfw and nsfw headcanons of leviathan (obey me) with female high schooler mc. Also can you have Mc calling him senpai.

⚠️ warnings: none

content: leviathan, female!mc

*sfw.

when you first confessed you liked him, he: had a meltdown, had a heart attack, had verbal keysmashes, and then fainted.

it took a while to calm him down and take you seriously, but he eventually listened and believed you

he just can't believe you actually like him. him! an otaku who drowns himself in anime and video games

he had always had a crush on you since the moment you joined the program, but he refused to admit it because he felt you were out of his league

he always wants to learn more about you and when he hears how human schools work, he nearly implodes. he thought rad was hard, but hearing that most schools in the human world operate like prisons, he wants to keep you here in the devildom

helps you study by giving cheat sheets related to the subjects. you don't remember this math equation? easy, just think of it like a combo move in a fighting game. can't understand this poem? think of that one analysis you two wrote together on one of your favorite anime.

school is stressful so the second you two are home, he tries to invite you to game with him or watch some new anime / movies or read new manga to wind down (assuming his brothers don't hog you)

culture trade. you two share material from each other's worlds. he really likes sailor moon, lord of the rings and kingdom hearts

couple cosplays !!

you called him ‘levi-senpai’ and he turned a bright red and keeled over

now you always call him it to watch him get flustered and because it's nice to see him happy

cuddles are supreme

you wear his hoodies and he finds it adorable

you have pink headphones with the kitty ears and he immediately bought orange ones to match you

*nsfw.

the first time you two had sex was after watching a steamy anime — that neither of you had expected to be steamy.

levi was hot and bothered, and he tried to hide it, but you noticed and offered to help him out.

you two had already done other things before — oral, handjobs.

you offered to suck him off and did, but even after he finished, you noticed he was still aroused.

you suggested you two go all the way and he nearly passed out

it took a while of going in circles before he finally accepted

you two kissed and touched each other for a while, nervous to finally be going so far. you snuck your hand between your bodies and rubbed him through his jeans

you two had a long session of foreplay. levi was scared of hurting you, so he made sure you were stretched enough to fit his length.

levi has two cocks, but he only used one.

he was gentle and slow, and when you both came together, he hugged you to him and nearly cried

sex after this was more fast-paced and you both tried out more kinks. he adores roleplaying.

levi uses both his cocks when you ask for it

you called him senpai during sex one time and he shot his load immediately. he was thoroughly embarrassed, but he liked it and you made it your thing

you're on birth control, but levi does wear condoms unless you want sex without them

you'll wear cute skirts and then sit in his lap while he games. you'll grind and tease him, then you'll reach and free his cock before grinding on him until he's inside you

cockwarming ! he adores holding you in his lap while you watch your favorite show or when he's gaming. sometimes he'll put on a steamy hentai to see if he can feel your pussy react.

watching tv together, he'll finger you under the blanket while you stroke him off

he likes eating you out when he doesn't have the energy to really fuck you. he'll slip into demon form with his tongue so you feel even better.

if you're okay with it, he'll use his demon cocks during sex, and it leaves you both hoarse at the end of the night with how good you both feel

his tails is very sensitive. stroke it enough and he'll cum right there.

he likes to act out hentai scenes sometimes

[penisman420-69]

A gentle glow from the computer screen washes over the dark desk, colors flickering in rapid motion. The monitor whirs in self defense of the growing heat. The ceiling fan lays mockingly silent in the stifling air. Reclined in his seat, Dream's head is tilted back to watch the wooden slats for the slightest tremor.

Betrayal.

Beads of sweat collect near his hairline. He tugs absently on the sticky plastic of his headphones, where they rest around his neck. The small light on the exterior blinks green.

"Dream?" He hears George say faintly.

"Wait, did he leave?" Sapnap asks.

"It says he's on the call, still." George's voice slowly grows closer. Dream begins to detach his eyes from the fan. "Dream?"

The concern in his voice makes Dream sit up. He pushes his headphones back on and wipes his face. "Yes, yes, hello, sorry. I zoned out for a sec." He blinks to register what's on his screen, seeing green grass blocks and Sapnap's avatar crouching in front of him. "Shoot, did you end the stream?" He quickly tabs out just in time to see George laugh.

"No, but I'm about to. Couldn't end it without you saying bye," George says. The small considerate act is enough to bloom a warmth in Dream's chest.

He smiles. "Oh, alright. Bye stream!"

"Bye!" Sapnap yells.

George waves to the camera. "Bye you guys, thank you so much. Also, pray for Dream's air conditioning."

"And my broken fan," Dream adds.

"Bye bye," George repeats, then disappears from Dream's view. This stream has ended. A familiar feeling creeps into Dream's chest whenever that message appears post-stream; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.

He frowns. "Sorry I spent so much of your stream complaining about the weather," he says, clicking back to the server. Sapnap has placed an oak sign before him that reads: wee waa dream can't take the heat. He rolls his eyes and breaks it.

"It's fine, really. I just feel bad for you," George says. His avatar bounds over and starts placing doors on the ground. "Any idea when it'll be fixed?"

"Soon, I hope," Dream answers with a huff, opening and closing the doors to appease George. "I don't think I can take much more of this." They'd been playing for the past three hours, meaning Dream had been accumulating enough sweat in his boxers to stick to his chair for much longer than any man should. Physical comfort was a key component for him to stay mellow, and not much could distract him from itchy tags and blistering heat. Not much, that is, besides gaming. "Seeing you was nice, though, something about your cheerful face distracts me from my agony," he confesses, words leaving his mouth before he can attempt to filter. He cringes. What was that?

"Oh my god, shut up," George says. He sounds embarrassed.

Sapnap coos. "Maybe I should stream with my camera on too."

Dream laughs, running away from the two of them to ease his sudden spike in nervousness. "That would keep my attention."

"Oh yeah, are my streams not interesting enough for you Dream?" George says, flying after him.

"What?" Dream says, feeling a pang of guilt. "What makes you think that? I love your streams."

George continues to act offended. "If you loved them you wouldn't zone out randomly."

"I didn't mean to," Dream whines, which only makes the other two laugh. "I just got distracted by my misery, and tried to airbend a breeze in here."

"Yeah right," Sapnap says, "you couldn't have been doing just that for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Dream repeats, bewildered. He didn't feel it had been that long; he was exploring the map and then clicked onto George's stream to see where he was, and of course George was smiling and yelling, but somehow so full of energy and spirit, and the hot air started to seep into Dream's soul—

"You were AFK for a while," George says, "we were still talking to you though and thought you'd muted yourself or something. Chat thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh," Dream says.

"Hold on, did you mean to mute yourself?" Sapnap asks, laughing as his own words leave his mouth. "Lil too excited watching George?"

Both Dream and George explode in disgusted yells. Good lord, Sapnap.

"Sapnap!" George sends a series of hits raining down onto his avatar. "You are so inappropriate off-stream."

"You're gross," Dream says with a laugh, but it's feeble and half-hearted. His pulse is rapidly drumming inside his skull. He is not lost to the strange dilemma of why he faded from their call for so long to stare at his George-less ceiling. Why did George have anything to do with it? Envy, perhaps, of his friend's ability to be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. He brushes it off. "It's true, though. George's face does get me excited."

George groans, making Sapnap and Dream laugh. "Now you're just trying to make me uncomfortable."

"Flustered, you mean," Dream inputs quickly.

"Okay, no, I'm sick of you two," George says, immediately exiting their server. "Consider this a rage quit."

GeorgeNotFound has left the game. Dream sends a :( into the chat.

"Noo, Georgie," Sapnap pleads.

"You did a great job today," Dream says, wholeheartedly. "I'm going to re-watch what I missed of it later." George laughs.

"I seriously have to go. I'll talk to you soon," he says, a small sound emitting from Discord signifying he's left the call.

The feeling returns to Dream's chest—it's akin to the cold rush that follows when he removes his hands from a steaming coffee mug. Some nights after their friends have logged off for good, he'll do anything to avoid giving in and going to bed. Twitter, mini-games, coding, creating playlists. His favorite nights, though, are when George wakes up early enough to keep him company. Their conversations radiate with the warmth of both the Florida night and the English sunrise.

So whenever George jokingly becomes angry with him, Dream can't dispel the tiny tremor of worry that maybe he's gone too far. He doesn't like to mull over the thought of them really fighting; it would terrify him like nothing else. He knows George will call again tomorrow, and that he isn't nearly as upset as he lets on. Yet he still finds himself carefully watching the dot next to George's name switch from green to a pale grey.

"I think I'm gonna hop off too," Dream says to Sapnap.

"Alright, seeya."

After disconnecting, he swivels around in his chair to face his bed. The dark comforter has been kicked to the floor, sheets askew. The window above his bed is shut tight to keep out the humid air and insects, but he can see the soft orange streetlights in the distance.

He sighs and wishes for rain.

He remembers running barefoot on his neighborhood streets as a child when storms would roll in from the sea, splashing in gravelly puddles and letting the cool raindrops dampen his hair. That space was always euphoric—a brief temperance from the smoldering air, green palm trees swaying in the wind, the hint of thunder and lightning—but it feels so far from him now. Especially in this dreadful weather.

He turns off his computer and begrudgingly gets in bed. He's nearly grown accustomed to the dark when his phone vibrates, the notification lighting up the room. He squints.

A text from George.

I feel like this song is a good way for me to get back at you, it reads. Dream clicks on the link, opening his Spotify to a new 'Glass Animals' song.

"Heat Waves," he responds, smiling. Very funny.

He'll listen to that in the morning. As he sets his phone back on the nightstand, Dream finds himself warmed by the gesture, even though it was an insult on his behalf. George is a thoughtful guy. Nothing wrong with appreciating that. Not that Dream finds it unnerving that interacting with George has a direct correlation with his general contentment and moods; in fact, it isn't worth the overthinking.

Settled by his own logic, he allows his body to focus on sleep. He slips in and out of shadows, occasionally tossing and turning in irritation at the cotton sheets. The fabric clings to his dampened skin up to the moment he sluggishly kicks it away. Something clatters to the floor, but Dream rolls onto his side.

Eventually, the night cools enough for him to sink deeper, and deeper, until he turns his head from his soft, warm pillow to a cold pile of sand.

Confused, he grasps at the foundation beneath him only for the rocky grains to slip through his fingers.

He sits up rapidly, glancing at the beach now surrounding him. Although the image is narrow, he can tell there is a murky-purple lagoon lapping a few feet before him. The moon ripples across its ominous surface. The night is quiet; a taunting breeze brushing the back of his neck and bringing chills down his spine.

He looks down at his hands, seeing his bright sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Bright green.

A sinking feeling begins to rot in his stomach as the familiarity sets in. He's been here before. He shifts his head cautiously, realizing where the shadows at the edge of his vision are coming from, and raises a hand to gently graze the ceramic covering his face. He doesn't need a mirror to know what the mask looks like.

He pulls up his hood, tensing as he anticipates the next subject he'll recognize. At any moment, behind his right shoulder, a voice will call from the edge of the trees that'll say—

"Dream?"

He freezes. That's—that's not right, it isn't supposed to be—

"George?" He asks quietly, turning around with caution. George stands a few feet behind him, goggles perched atop his head and an axe in his hand. He's looking around their location, dazed. The starry sky reflects itself on his lenses.

He walks across the sand towards Dream slowly. "Where...are we?"

"Um." Dream considers curling in on himself, but can't help fighting the comfort of honesty. "My head, I guess." He knows from experience that this place values integrity more than anything. Facing it head on, so to speak. He just doesn't know why he'd let George in here—it isn't safe.

"It's pretty," George says, sitting on the sand next to him.

Dream's heart aches faintly at his remark. Once, he'd thought it was pretty, too. He can't find the words to tell George that after so many years of frantically slipping on the sand, coughing up lung-fulls of the dark water, and running from the woods—it has become a thing of nightmares.

He stares at George. Can he feel the memories here?

"So this is..." George gestures around with his axe vaguely. "Florida?"

Dream cracks a smile. "Yeah, you finally made it," he teases softly. George's grin is bright enough to make him look away. "It's a lagoon I used to come to as a kid."

"You make it sound like that was lifetimes ago."

Something foreign and lost weighs on the tension in Dream's features, forgotten behind the ceramic. "Maybe," he says, "I've had multiple lives here."

George says nothing. He lifts a moon-soaked hand to point at the water. "Do you see those?"

Dream turns his head, and small glowing blobs appear near the shore. Their light blue color is stark against the darkness as they float idly.

"They're moon jellies," Dream says in disbelief. He's never seen them here before. The curling darkness steals all hint of life besides him, his beating heart, and occasional whispers in the wind.

George hums in approval. Dream looks at him again, grateful for the mask covering his own features. Pale moonlight makes George's skin glow a soft porcelain, pink lips pressed together in a delicate brush stroke.

The word bubbles up from deep in Dream's chest, winding into his bloodstream and landing gracefully in his head.

Beautiful.

He wants to back away from it, to shove it deep down. But for once, it feels safe here, safe to admit it to himself without needing an air of humor to skate by on. Here, it isn't a joke.

"Why are we here?" George asks in a murmur, gaze lifting to face Dream. The word here hangs with a heavy lilt, as if he'd meant to say, what brought me? Who pulled me?

Was it you?

In his large brown eyes Dream can see the faded reflection of his sloppy black and white smile.

"I know why I'm here," Dream says carefully, "but I don't know why you are." A brief rustling of leaves and twigs behind them causes him to tense again. "It's dangerous here, George. We should go."

"Why? Don't you want to stay in this memory?"

Dream ignores the comment, and lightly wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. George doesn't try to stand. He keeps them rooted to the white shore with a confused frown.

"Nothing is going to hurt us when I'm here," he says.

Dream feels his face grow hot. "Knock it off. This is serious."

George looks at him earnestly. "I'm being serious."

Now that his arm is draped protectively over George's small frame, Dream becomes extremely aware of how close they are. He can sense George's body heat, watch his chest rise and fall, see the goosebumps on his neck. Dream's heart begins to pound. For how long has he wanted to meet him? To hear his voice in person? The fear inside him slowly begins to ebb away into fondness.

The moon jellies rapidly multiply until the lagoon is dappled blue, and gleaming.

George grins. "I told you it's pretty."

"Because of you," Dream says warmly. Even though George rolls his eyes, he means it. They laugh lightly at each other, glowing water and gentle sparks blooming as the moment passes.

George's gaze lingers on Dream for a few heartbeats, before letting go of his axe. He raises his hand to reach for the ceramic mask.

Dream freezes as his eyes follow the motion. His hood falls when George runs his fingers gently through his wavy hair—he can't remember the last time he let someone do this. It feels intimate. It feels terrifying. His eyes shut when George finds the metal clasp on the back of his head, he exhales when he feels the weight of the mask drop from his face.

The breeze is cold on his cheeks. He can smell the nearby saltwater. He opens his eyes, and sees twice as many stars as usual.

"How did you do that? I've never..." He looks at George, who is smiling softly.

"I know honesty is important to you," George says. His hand moves to gently touch Dream's cheekbone.

Dream reaches and delicately takes George's hand in his, slender knuckles and fingers sliding together with timid grace. He feels alive. He leans closer, studying George's eyes until he slips down, further, to his soft lips. His breath is trembling.

"And what if I kissed you right now?" He murmurs, heart racing. "How honest would that be?"

George's eyes grow wide. "I—well, Dream—you—" he stammers, giving Dream exactly what he needs to let go.

Their movements happen nearly all at once—the inclining of George's jaw, the slide of Dream's hand into his hair, the connection of their lips. The kiss is raw with emotion, and gentle. Hot embers rise from Dream's chest to heat his face. The soft presence of George's mouth against his own is surreal, as their senses collectively slip away into the dreamland. His hand rises to softly cup George's jaw. He pulls his face closer, breath hot, heart stuttering. Nervous energy quickly ebbs into a strong hearth of longing, as he kisses George again, and again, and again. George emits a soft noise that makes Dream melt. He can feel George's hands in his hair, then on his neck, then on his chest.

Dream pulls away to capture brief puffs of air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as he looks at George's flushed cheeks and mouth kissed red. Because of him. A low feeling stirs in the space just below his ribcage, the first flickering of a dangerously hot flame. All of it, all of George, just for him.

Dream parts his lips to say something, anything—and promptly wakes up.

I have heatwaves saved on my computer it doesn't phase me anymore I've read this several times you can't hurt me with this

[rikuphobic]

A gentle glow from the computer screen washes over the dark desk, colors flickering in rapid motion. The monitor whirs in self defense of the growing heat. The ceiling fan lays mockingly silent in the stifling air. Reclined in his seat, Dream's head is tilted back to watch the wooden slats for the slightest tremor.

Betrayal.

Beads of sweat collect near his hairline. He tugs absently on the sticky plastic of his headphones, where they rest around his neck. The small light on the exterior blinks green.

"Dream?" He hears George say faintly.

"Wait, did he leave?" Sapnap asks.

"It says he's on the call, still." George's voice slowly grows closer. Dream begins to detach his eyes from the fan. "Dream?"

The concern in his voice makes Dream sit up. He pushes his headphones back on and wipes his face. "Yes, yes, hello, sorry. I zoned out for a sec." He blinks to register what's on his screen, seeing green grass blocks and Sapnap's avatar crouching in front of him. "Shoot, did you end the stream?" He quickly tabs out just in time to see George laugh.

"No, but I'm about to. Couldn't end it without you saying bye," George says. The small considerate act is enough to bloom a warmth in Dream's chest.

He smiles. "Oh, alright. Bye stream!"

"Bye!" Sapnap yells.

George waves to the camera. "Bye you guys, thank you so much. Also, pray for Dream's air conditioning."

"And my broken fan," Dream adds.

"Bye bye," George repeats, then disappears from Dream's view. This stream has ended. A familiar feeling creeps into Dream's chest whenever that message appears post-stream; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.

He frowns. "Sorry I spent so much of your stream complaining about the weather," he says, clicking back to the server. Sapnap has placed an oak sign before him that reads: wee waa dream can't take the heat. He rolls his eyes and breaks it.

"It's fine, really. I just feel bad for you," George says. His avatar bounds over and starts placing doors on the ground. "Any idea when it'll be fixed?"

"Soon, I hope," Dream answers with a huff, opening and closing the doors to appease George. "I don't think I can take much more of this." They'd been playing for the past three hours, meaning Dream had been accumulating enough sweat in his boxers to stick to his chair for much longer than any man should. Physical comfort was a key component for him to stay mellow, and not much could distract him from itchy tags and blistering heat. Not much, that is, besides gaming. "Seeing you was nice, though, something about your cheerful face distracts me from my agony," he confesses, words leaving his mouth before he can attempt to filter. He cringes. What was that?

"Oh my god, shut up," George says. He sounds embarrassed.

Sapnap coos. "Maybe I should stream with my camera on too."

Dream laughs, running away from the two of them to ease his sudden spike in nervousness. "That would keep my attention."

"Oh yeah, are my streams not interesting enough for you Dream?" George says, flying after him.

"What?" Dream says, feeling a pang of guilt. "What makes you think that? I love your streams."

George continues to act offended. "If you loved them you wouldn't zone out randomly."

"I didn't mean to," Dream whines, which only makes the other two laugh. "I just got distracted by my misery, and tried to airbend a breeze in here."

"Yeah right," Sapnap says, "you couldn't have been doing just that for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Dream repeats, bewildered. He didn't feel it had been that long; he was exploring the map and then clicked onto George's stream to see where he was, and of course George was smiling and yelling, but somehow so full of energy and spirit, and the hot air started to seep into Dream's soul—

"You were AFK for a while," George says, "we were still talking to you though and thought you'd muted yourself or something. Chat thought it was embarrassing."

"Oh," Dream says.

"Hold on, did you mean to mute yourself?" Sapnap asks, laughing as his own words leave his mouth. "Lil too excited watching George?"

Both Dream and George explode in disgusted yells. Good lord, Sapnap.

"Sapnap!" George sends a series of hits raining down onto his avatar. "You are so inappropriate off-stream."

"You're gross," Dream says with a laugh, but it's feeble and half-hearted. His pulse is rapidly drumming inside his skull. He is not lost to the strange dilemma of why he faded from their call for so long to stare at his George-less ceiling. Why did George have anything to do with it? Envy, perhaps, of his friend's ability to be wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. He brushes it off. "It's true, though. George's face does get me excited."

George groans, making Sapnap and Dream laugh. "Now you're just trying to make me uncomfortable."

"Flustered, you mean," Dream inputs quickly.

"Okay, no, I'm sick of you two," George says, immediately exiting their server. "Consider this a rage quit."

GeorgeNotFound has left the game. Dream sends a :( into the chat.

"Noo, Georgie," Sapnap pleads.

"You did a great job today," Dream says, wholeheartedly. "I'm going to re-watch what I missed of it later." George laughs.

"I seriously have to go. I'll talk to you soon," he says, a small sound emitting from Discord signifying he's left the call.

The feeling returns to Dream's chest—it's akin to the cold rush that follows when he removes his hands from a steaming coffee mug. Some nights after their friends have logged off for good, he'll do anything to avoid giving in and going to bed. Twitter, mini-games, coding, creating playlists. His favorite nights, though, are when George wakes up early enough to keep him company. Their conversations radiate with the warmth of both the Florida night and the English sunrise.

So whenever George jokingly becomes angry with him, Dream can't dispel the tiny tremor of worry that maybe he's gone too far. He doesn't like to mull over the thought of them really fighting; it would terrify him like nothing else. He knows George will call again tomorrow, and that he isn't nearly as upset as he lets on. Yet he still finds himself carefully watching the dot next to George's name switch from green to a pale grey.

"I think I'm gonna hop off too," Dream says to Sapnap.

"Alright, seeya."

After disconnecting, he swivels around in his chair to face his bed. The dark comforter has been kicked to the floor, sheets askew. The window above his bed is shut tight to keep out the humid air and insects, but he can see the soft orange streetlights in the distance.

He sighs and wishes for rain.

He remembers running barefoot on his neighborhood streets as a child when storms would roll in from the sea, splashing in gravelly puddles and letting the cool raindrops dampen his hair. That space was always euphoric—a brief temperance from the smoldering air, green palm trees swaying in the wind, the hint of thunder and lightning—but it feels so far from him now. Especially in this dreadful weather.

He turns off his computer and begrudgingly gets in bed. He's nearly grown accustomed to the dark when his phone vibrates, the notification lighting up the room. He squints.

A text from George.

I feel like this song is a good way for me to get back at you, it reads. Dream clicks on the link, opening his Spotify to a new 'Glass Animals' song.

"Heat Waves," he responds, smiling. Very funny.

He'll listen to that in the morning. As he sets his phone back on the nightstand, Dream finds himself warmed by the gesture, even though it was an insult on his behalf. George is a thoughtful guy. Nothing wrong with appreciating that. Not that Dream finds it unnerving that interacting with George has a direct correlation with his general contentment and moods; in fact, it isn't worth the overthinking.

Settled by his own logic, he allows his body to focus on sleep. He slips in and out of shadows, occasionally tossing and turning in irritation at the cotton sheets. The fabric clings to his dampened skin up to the moment he sluggishly kicks it away. Something clatters to the floor, but Dream rolls onto his side.

Eventually, the night cools enough for him to sink deeper, and deeper, until he turns his head from his soft, warm pillow to a cold pile of sand.

Confused, he grasps at the foundation beneath him only for the rocky grains to slip through his fingers.

He sits up rapidly, glancing at the beach now surrounding him. Although the image is narrow, he can tell there is a murky-purple lagoon lapping a few feet before him. The moon ripples across its ominous surface. The night is quiet; a taunting breeze brushing the back of his neck and bringing chills down his spine.

He looks down at his hands, seeing his bright sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. Bright green.

A sinking feeling begins to rot in his stomach as the familiarity sets in. He's been here before. He shifts his head cautiously, realizing where the shadows at the edge of his vision are coming from, and raises a hand to gently graze the ceramic covering his face. He doesn't need a mirror to know what the mask looks like.

He pulls up his hood, tensing as he anticipates the next subject he'll recognize. At any moment, behind his right shoulder, a voice will call from the edge of the trees that'll say—

"Dream?"

He freezes. That's—that's not right, it isn't supposed to be—

"George?" He asks quietly, turning around with caution. George stands a few feet behind him, goggles perched atop his head and an axe in his hand. He's looking around their location, dazed. The starry sky reflects itself on his lenses.

He walks across the sand towards Dream slowly. "Where...are we?"

"Um." Dream considers curling in on himself, but can't help fighting the comfort of honesty. "My head, I guess." He knows from experience that this place values integrity more than anything. Facing it head on, so to speak. He just doesn't know why he'd let George in here—it isn't safe.

"It's pretty," George says, sitting on the sand next to him.

Dream's heart aches faintly at his remark. Once, he'd thought it was pretty, too. He can't find the words to tell George that after so many years of frantically slipping on the sand, coughing up lung-fulls of the dark water, and running from the woods—it has become a thing of nightmares.

He stares at George. Can he feel the memories here?

"So this is..." George gestures around with his axe vaguely. "Florida?"

Dream cracks a smile. "Yeah, you finally made it," he teases softly. George's grin is bright enough to make him look away. "It's a lagoon I used to come to as a kid."

"You make it sound like that was lifetimes ago."

Something foreign and lost weighs on the tension in Dream's features, forgotten behind the ceramic. "Maybe," he says, "I've had multiple lives here."

George says nothing. He lifts a moon-soaked hand to point at the water. "Do you see those?"

Dream turns his head, and small glowing blobs appear near the shore. Their light blue color is stark against the darkness as they float idly.

"They're moon jellies," Dream says in disbelief. He's never seen them here before. The curling darkness steals all hint of life besides him, his beating heart, and occasional whispers in the wind.

George hums in approval. Dream looks at him again, grateful for the mask covering his own features. Pale moonlight makes George's skin glow a soft porcelain, pink lips pressed together in a delicate brush stroke.

The word bubbles up from deep in Dream's chest, winding into his bloodstream and landing gracefully in his head.

Beautiful.

He wants to back away from it, to shove it deep down. But for once, it feels safe here, safe to admit it to himself without needing an air of humor to skate by on. Here, it isn't a joke.

"Why are we here?" George asks in a murmur, gaze lifting to face Dream. The word here hangs with a heavy lilt, as if he'd meant to say, what brought me? Who pulled me?

Was it you?

In his large brown eyes Dream can see the faded reflection of his sloppy black and white smile.

"I know why I'm here," Dream says carefully, "but I don't know why you are." A brief rustling of leaves and twigs behind them causes him to tense again. "It's dangerous here, George. We should go."

"Why? Don't you want to stay in this memory?"

Dream ignores the comment, and lightly wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. George doesn't try to stand. He keeps them rooted to the white shore with a confused frown.

"Nothing is going to hurt us when I'm here," he says.

Dream feels his face grow hot. "Knock it off. This is serious."

George looks at him earnestly. "I'm being serious."

Now that his arm is draped protectively over George's small frame, Dream becomes extremely aware of how close they are. He can sense George's body heat, watch his chest rise and fall, see the goosebumps on his neck. Dream's heart begins to pound. For how long has he wanted to meet him? To hear his voice in person? The fear inside him slowly begins to ebb away into fondness.

The moon jellies rapidly multiply until the lagoon is dappled blue, and gleaming.

George grins. "I told you it's pretty."

"Because of you," Dream says warmly. Even though George rolls his eyes, he means it. They laugh lightly at each other, glowing water and gentle sparks blooming as the moment passes.

George's gaze lingers on Dream for a few heartbeats, before letting go of his axe. He raises his hand to reach for the ceramic mask.

Dream freezes as his eyes follow the motion. His hood falls when George runs his fingers gently through his wavy hair—he can't remember the last time he let someone do this. It feels intimate. It feels terrifying. His eyes shut when George finds the metal clasp on the back of his head, he exhales when he feels the weight of the mask drop from his face.

The breeze is cold on his cheeks. He can smell the nearby saltwater. He opens his eyes, and sees twice as many stars as usual.

"How did you do that? I've never..." He looks at George, who is smiling softly.

"I know honesty is important to you," George says. His hand moves to gently touch Dream's cheekbone.

Dream reaches and delicately takes George's hand in his, slender knuckles and fingers sliding together with timid grace. He feels alive. He leans closer, studying George's eyes until he slips down, further, to his soft lips. His breath is trembling.

"And what if I kissed you right now?" He murmurs, heart racing. "How honest would that be?"

George's eyes grow wide. "I—well, Dream—you—" he stammers, giving Dream exactly what he needs to let go.

Their movements happen nearly all at once—the inclining of George's jaw, the slide of Dream's hand into his hair, the connection of their lips. The kiss is raw with emotion, and gentle. Hot embers rise from Dream's chest to heat his face. The soft presence of George's mouth against his own is surreal, as their senses collectively slip away into the dreamland. His hand rises to softly cup George's jaw. He pulls his face closer, breath hot, heart stuttering. Nervous energy quickly ebbs into a strong hearth of longing, as he kisses George again, and again, and again. George emits a soft noise that makes Dream melt. He can feel George's hands in his hair, then on his neck, then on his chest.

Dream pulls away to capture brief puffs of air. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as he looks at George's flushed cheeks and mouth kissed red. Because of him. A low feeling stirs in the space just below his ribcage, the first flickering of a dangerously hot flame. All of it, all of George, just for him.

Dream parts his lips to say something, anything—and promptly wakes up.

oop there’s the entire first chapter of heatwaves

[mapopp]

"Broadway hit ‘Mary Poppins’ to close on Broadway in the spring; ‘Aladdin’ to come next"

-The Washington Post

So, have you heard?

This is how I responded.