#a glimmer of light refusing to fade ao3

[ngalu]

[aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade]

Little Miwi headcanons? :D

OHOHOHO YIPPEE

Miwi were attached at the hip. They were together 24/7, 365, and if you took them apart, they would probably cry.

Mike gave Will most of the stuffed animals he owns now, but when Lonnie was around, Will had Mike hold onto them so that Lonnie couldn't throw them out - nowadays, Will has full custody again (lol).

Mike was the only one ever allowed in Castle Byers without supervision - Lucas and Dustin weren't allowed in unless Will was there first, but Mike was allowed to go inside alone.

Will and Mike used to make their own comic books as little kids. The books sucked, but both of them kept copies.

They had a super elaborate goodbye ritual for the end of the school day, taking 10-15 minutes, and Lucas would just stand there in the background like 🧍. When Dustin came along, he tried to interrupt regularly, but Lucas would stop him like 'nonono don't do that they'll start over-'

Thank you for the ask!!

[jackkellyilysm]

Fanart of my lovely moot @chouthechaoticraccoon’s fic “a glimmer of light refusing to fade” chapter 93. Pls no hate this is one of my first times doing digital art I’m still learning!

[purple-racoon-80]

OKAY!!! I couldn't hold it in anymore. this is my favourite section of my favourite fanfiction. literally had me losing my goddamn shit.

[“Amen.” Mike mumbles.

Will laughs, a wet, sad sound. “Mike, you’re an atheist.”

“Amen.” Mike repeats.

“You don’t believe in God, Mike.” Will whispers.

“I believe in you.” Mike slurs. “Close enough.”]

YOU SEE?? WHY?? I LOST?? MY?? SHIT?? DO?? YOU?? SEE???

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP OH MY GOD

I WILL NEVER FUCKING GET OVER THIS

FUCK

(the fanfic is A Glimmer Of Light Refusing To Fade by MagicSchoolBusDropout08 on ao3 btw, you should go read it. fucking amazing. I love it with my everything.)

@chouthechaoticraccoon

[ngalu]

[aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade]

Not saying Glimmer Byler smokes, but. Uh. Wait until chapter 110 :3

I'm worse at what I do best

And for this gift I feel blessed

Our little group has always been

And always will until the end

[aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade]

☆ Will because WE NEED HAPPY WILL IN OUR LIVES!

WE DO! Buckle up!

When Will laughs really hard, his face turns red, and when he smiles super wide, he gets dimples. Mike loves both, and both end up with him grabbing Will's face and peppering it with kisses.

Will constantly wears a ton of bracelets - some gifts from Mike, others friendship bracelets, one's just rainbow - and he loves them all. He wears hairties on his left wrist, too, because he likes giving them away to his long-haired friends (and sister).

Will and Max are both disabled, and they hang out a lot. Their service dogs like to play with each other, and they frequently go to Will's favorite flower shop, their favorite coffee shop, the park, the mall, etc. Will tells Max what's going on around her (especially what stupid thing Mike's doing so she can properly make fun of him) and she holds his arm and lets him lead them around places, and she signs what she hears at Will when he takes out his hearing aids. She taught him to skateboard, and he learned a style of 3D painting so he could give her art. He also drew her D&D character in this style and made a Braille character sheet. (She cried.)

Will and Hopper get along great. They hang out regularly, Hopper attends the parent function thingamabobs, and they become close. They even come up with a scheme to sneak in a stray kitten and hide it from Joyce at one point - it lasts for less than an hour, but Joyce lets them keep the cat, so they're still happy. El names him Whiskers. Their real bonding moment came with music - Hopper was blasting Steely Dan, and Will came in and made him listen to Fleetwood Mqc, Queen, The Clash, and The Cure.

Mike joins a band, and he and Eddie cajole Will into learning an instrument. Will ends up trying bass and he fucking loves it. Eddie says he's a natural - it's in no small part because Will takes out his hearing aids when he's playing, and he just feels the vibrations of the notes and can tell what note it is just by vibration. He loves it, because music can sound weird through the hearing aid, and he's able to feel it playing bass. (He plays for Jonathan when he visits him at NYU.)

When the Party start 11th grade, they start school at a Montessori K-12 school, which they all do well in, especially Will. With a less structured school, minimal homework, disability aid, and shortened hours (8:30-3:00), he's able to get straight A's and pack his schedule, too. He has talk therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays (3:15-4:30 PM) as well as physical therapy (5-5:30 PM), art club on Wednesdays (3-3:45 PM), science club on Mondays (3-4 PM), D&D on Saturdays, family pizza and movie nights every Friday, and volunteers at his synagogue on Sunday (a lot of the older ladies adore him). He works at a flowershop with El during the summers, and frequently goes to gay speakeasies and immerses himself in Deaf and LGBT+ culture (he starts to take out his hearing aids more the longer he spends with other Deaf people, as he learns sign language and starts to find his place without hearing) and makes a lot of gay friends.

Will gets a service dog. His name is Charlie, a rescued Burmese Mountain Dog, who adores Will. He takes a minute to warm up to the idea, but when he does, Will fucking loves that dog. I'm talking sneaks-him-extra-treats, that-dog-sleeps-in-Will's-bed-every-night, Mike's-cuddle-position-might-get-replaced loves. He's thrilled that Charlie gets to go with him everywhere after a bit, and with the dog around, Will's a much calmer, happier person.

Will becomes a lot less reserved as he gets more comfortable with himself, happily sassing people, flopping down in Mike and his friends' laps, signing more often, being less ashamed of his sexuality and scars and disability, becoming more comfortable with his body, wearing nice clothes, etc, etc, etc.

(Tried to think of enough to come to 11 😭 didn't work though)

[byler4vida]

What I absolutely love about Byler ao3 stories is that they will ALWAYS choose each other, it doesn't matter who they are with or what they have gone through etc, they will always choose each other, there is no Mike without Will and there is Will without Mike, have you guys read this story on ao3? It's called "A Glimmer of Light refusing to fade by". It's a Byler story and I think it's so adorable how despite what Mike and Will have gone through (especially Will, poor boy) they still choose each other and everytime they argue, they are so miserable without the other (there was originally supposed to be a gay Jewish boy in Lenora who became friends with Will but Mike showed before romantic feelings were involved, but let's be honest, it doesn't who they have a crush on or whatever, it doesn't matter who they have slept with, those two will always choose each other, just the facts 😎😎😎)

[aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade]

HUGSSSSS

[scribbling-dragon]

a tree falls (and it is silent)

summary:

…She can still see the island above her. If she looks. It is fading, retreating back into the void, folding into another corner of reality. The island has shrunk to the same size as every other star around it, glimmering in the same taunting, teasing way. Just out of reach, but almost like she could reach out and snatch it up in her hands. She keeps her eyes fixed on it anyway, even as it shrinks to a pinprick of light – as though the moment she looks away she loses all hope of returning.

(ao3 link)

(4,638 words)

[AN: not really sure where this fic went, but it was fun to write! just a tiny little warning for slight body modification? not really sure how else to describe it. so yeah]

Lizzie falls.

And it is not a slow, gradual tilting backwards. It is not something that she can replay second by second in her mind’s eye, to watch where it was that she went wrong; where it was that she misstepped. She wishes it was, almost. That she could point at a singular moment in time and go, there, that is where everything went wrong.

But she can’t.

Instead, she felt something give way. Felt her feet slip beneath her as she stepped, and then stepped again. Out into the open air of the void. She had twisted, a mad scramble to save herself, maybe to drag Scott down with her. So that it would not be in vain.

She had caught fabric, for a singular, heart-stopping moment. Her nails had caught on Scott’s jacket, had ripped at the denim. She can still feel the sensation of it beneath her nails now.

And then Scott had jerked back as though burned, eyes wide as he tore himself free of her clutching, desperate grip. It had torn a few threads loose, threads that she still clutches to her chest now. It is a prize, a monument to her stupidity, the culmination of her stumbling steps that have led her unsteadily to this moment.

Every single moment here has left her lost and floundering. She had staggered upon landing and never regained her footing, even as those around her wobbled before balancing themselves again. They had charged forward and left her in the dust, clutching a few threads to her chest as though that undoes any of the mistakes she’s made.

…She can still see the island above her. If she looks.

It is fading, retreating back into the void, folding into another corner of reality. Maybe Scott is still staring over the edge at her, watching as she plunges into a certain doom. Or, more likely, he turned away the moment it was clear she would not be saving herself. He’s probably retelling the sorry, sordid tale right now, to an audience of sympathetic murmurs, ones that are only glad it is not them.

The island has shrunk to the same size as every other star around it, glimmering in the same taunting, teasing way. Just out of reach, but almost like she could reach out and snatch it up in her hands. She keeps her eyes fixed on it anyway, even as it shrinks to a pinprick of light – as though the moment she looks away she loses all hope of returning. As though she hasn’t already fallen into an inescapable pit.

She was condemned the moment she stepped into this void damned place.

She still keeps staring at their island, even as the other stars – other islands? – glimmer at cheerily at her, attempting to draw her gaze in their direction. She refuses staunchly, watching the island shrink and shrink and shrink. The moment she blinks, the moment her focus wavers even a tiny bit is the moment she passes the point of no return.

How many of those other stars are islands, the same as their own? How many have a dragon curled atop an obsidian pillar, awaiting its next victims?

Lizzie feels a strange tightness in her chest. A breathlessness borne of the lack of air in the void. And yet her chest continues to inflate and deflate, lungs working as they should. The back of her throat tickles, as though something has lodged itself there and is refusing to budge.

She should be long dead, she knows. The lack of air in the void is a swift killer, one that eases you into the darkness of sleep before it finishes you off. A merciful killer.

And yet there is no shadow around the edges of her vision. No darkness creeping over her eyes to obscure the island. To pull the wool over her eyes for the last few moments of her life.

She continues to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Breath after breath. Impossibility after impossibility.

It is nonsensical. And yet it continues. Just as she continues to watch the islands above her. Continues to watch her island.

There is a strange calm that surrounds her then, soothes over the aching edges of her mind that continues to worry at the issue of her continued survival. She breathes out, eyes fluttering shut slightly as that relaxation coaxes her eyes into slipping shut. Just a fraction.

It is enough for her to lose focus for that one key moment – the calm is rudely torn from her as she blinks, once, twice, thrice, no longer caring for not blinking as the fateful moment has already passed. Her island blends in amongst the other stars, indiscernible from everything else filling the void.

As she attempts to sit up, and then realises that she is able, the rushing sensation in her ears drops away. She no longer falls, no longer plummets into the open, yawning maw of the void – a seemingly endless depth that should have already closed its jaws around her.

Instead, she…drifts. Saunters vaguely downwards. Hangs on the precipice between something and nothing, teetering back and forth on that unknowable, invisible edge.

Something must push her beyond that edge, must nudge her that final inch over the line as the weightlessness returns for a long moment. It makes her stomach drop out of her body as she falls sharply downwards before…stopping.

She doesn’t slow. Not in the same way as before. This is a sudden, jerking halt, as though something had interrupted her fall.

Lizzie looks around, beyond confused. It was almost as though she had been caught, as though someone had stretched their arms out to stop any further descent, cradling her safely in their embrace.

The void spreads out wide around her, inky darkness reaching into every corner.

There is nothing to catch her out here, where nothingness is all that exists.

That, my dear, is where you are wrong.

She jolts at the sudden voice murmuring beside her ear, quiet as a whisper. She blinks furiously as she whips her head around, wariness swiftly transforming into fear as her surroundings remain featureless.

“Who’s there!” she yells, no longer caring that no true air fills her lungs, and yet she’s able to speak all the same. Able to draw breath from this thin, suffocating air. “Show yourself!”

There is a low chuckle, still quiet. Still barely above a whisper. It is the sound of stars shining high above. The sound of ants scuttling over the bark of a tree: there, but not audible. Something that should not be heard.

My dear, to show myself would be defeating the purpose of my existence, would it not?

“Oh yeah?” She stands, surprises herself a moment with the fact that she is able to stand, before promptly getting over it and continuing to question her sudden companion. “Why’s that? You some nasty creature come to kill me? One of those all-seeing fellas from up there?” She gestures in the vague direction of where she thinks she just fell from.

I am none of those things.

“Then what are you?” The quiet of this new voice lowers her voice. She feels self-conscious yelling while this- this thing speaks calmly, at a level barely above a whisper as though it does not care if it is heard or not.

I am nothingness.

“Well, obviously not.” She scoffs. “If you were nothingness then you wouldn’t be talking to me right now, would you?”

The voice remains silent for a moment after that. As though chewing over her words and carefully considering what she has just said. …And then it continues to remain silent. This silence is thick in the air, laying itself over her shoulders heavily.

She almost thinks that it has taken her advice, that, as a creature of nothingness, it has retreated into itself and becoming nothing at all.

“Wait!” She calls out into the void. Desperate for any response. “I’m…I'm sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please, come back!”

I was never gone.

“Kinda hard to tell that.” Her shoulders slump in relief. The sudden panic that came out of nowhere scared her – it had seized her by the throat, demanding that she call back her strange companion, that she not be alone again. “What with the whole nothingness shtick.”

It is not a shtick.

It sounds offended. Lizzie feels momentarily sheepish, before remembering that she doesn’t know who or what this is, and so she doesn’t owe it anything.

“Then what is it? Something you pull out for parties?”

You know not what you speak of.

“Then enlighten me, won’t you?”

How can I expect you to comprehend the vastness of my being? There’s a pause, and Lizzie almost thinks that the thing would have coughed awkwardly were it a human. No offence.

“Full offence taken.”

Ah, my apologies. It pauses again, and then: I…would something like this help?

“Something like what?” Lizzie raises her eyebrows, glancing around the empty space she’s currently stood in. And then…oh. Hm. She’s…well, she’s not sure how to feel about that, actually.

A crude, rather rickety table is less than a foot from her. The paint is patchy and not complete. It wasn’t one of her finest moments, but she had been in a hurry, had been too full of hopes and dreams, and the belief in her fellow players was far, far too high to care about something like the evenness of paint.

A cake sits atop this table. It is far too big for one person alone, and the table almost seems to groan beneath its weight.

She blinks, and there is a chair right beside the table, turned towards her. This chair is a solid white, sturdily built. It is not something she created. There had been beds, instead. She had imagined a party, each of them with a slice of cake in their hands as they sat on beds. Maybe even crowded several people into one bunk as they laughed like they had the first time around, when everything was better.

She sits down in the chair.

The candle in the cake is lit, and the flame flickers for a moment before blowing out. There is no smoke.

Apologies, a flame does not last well in the Void.

“That’s…fine.”

Unbidden, tears rise to her eyes. They cling to her lashes and make her eyelids stick together slightly as she blinks. She refuses to let them fall, however, because crying in front of some horrifying (?) cosmic entity was not on her to-do list today, and she refuses to add it.

And she can’t stand the feeling of dried tears on her cheeks.

“Thank you.” She says, sat at this party for one. It feels a little miserable, that an entity describing itself as nothingness has thrown her a party. Miserable, but fitting. “I…appreciate it.”

Good. The voice is warm, though still quiet. Perhaps this is the loudest it can be – it is the Void itself after all, Lizzie realises.

Perhaps it was a little idiotic of her not to realise before that this entity beside her, all around her, which described itself as nothingness was the exact void she was currently sat in.

There is a knife for her to cut the cake with, sat next to her hand as though it has been there the entire time. She reaches for it, intent on tasting this cake created by nothingness. She wonders if it will have a flavour.

Well, hello there! Where the Void’s voice had been quiet, barely a whisper, this one is cacophonous, as though someone had yelled right beside her ear. She cannot help but wince at the sound, shrinking backwards.

She leans back so far that the chair topples back, disappearing beneath her back as she sprawls across the ground. When she looks up, her party for one has disappeared.

Really, you could not have found it in yourself to be a little calmer?

And why should I be? You’ve got a guest here, and you didn’t even consider telling me!

Have you considered that there was good reason for that? Look at what you’ve done to the poor dear – she’s startled so terribly that she fell from her chair.

Oh. Hm. Okay then, that’s my bad, I guess.

Silence reigns for a moment, and Lizzie takes the opportunity to push herself back into a sitting position, legs crossed and one elbow resting on her knee. These two arguing entities sounded as though they knew each other – who would have thought there was something so lively in a place of certain death?

Not her, certainly.

Oh, hey. I know this one! Those words are the only warning she gets before something heavy is pressing down upon her, looking over every inch of her being, examining her like a bug pinned beneath a magnifying glass.

‘That one’ as you insist on referring to her is going to collapse beneath the weight of your full attention if you are not careful enough. The Void warns, though its voice is quiet as ever. Lizzie worries, as she feels her skin begin to unravel around her, the layers being peeled back as this second entity looks deeper into her being, that it won’t have heard the quiet sound of the Void.

Then, a moment later, it recedes, and she feels as though she can breathe again.

You were actually a little disappointing, the second entity tells her. I expected something a little better from you – maybe a little more pizazz? Something better than slipping off the edge and into the tender, loving arms of our dear Void right here.

Excuse you? How can you already leap into belittling her, hm? Her death was something tragic, but she did all she could in life.

Still could’ve been better. Her head is beginning to ache at the volume of this entity’s voice. (Thoughts?) C’mon, I expected a little more entertainment from Them, didn’t you? The little things pride Themselves on Their games, and yet They can’t even get everyone to put on a show?

You have done well, the Void assures her. You did the best you could with the hand that was dealt to you – They pick rather obvious favourites. Its voice fills with disdain, disgust worming its way into its words.

Lizzie isn’t sure who They are, but the weight with which it is said, and the disgust with which it is uttered, gives her the idea that They are not someone to get along with. And also apparently someone that picks favourites, however They might do that.

Do you comfort yourself with lies? The second entity demands. Its presence grows heavier again, bearing down on her head and shoulders, almost beginning to crush her into the non-existent ground she sits on. How can you bear to turn and face yourself when you offer meagre comforts through falsehoods and honeyed words?

What has happened, happened. What is done, cannot be undone. As such, why bother over the trivialities of what could have been done better.

“I’m still here,” Lizzie says. Just because it’s almost like these two entities – apparently familiar enough with each other to immediately begin arguing – have forgotten that the subject of their conversation is sitting right there and that she can hear everything being said about her.

We know that. Did you think we forgot?

Somewhat, yes, she doesn’t say. Mainly because that entity has turned its attention towards her again and it feels like staring directly into the sun. She grimaces at the feeling, gritting her teeth until it turns its attention away from her again.

You were disappointing. Lacklustre.

“Gee, thanks.” She’s beginning to dislike this second entity – actually, she’s gone beyond disliking this entity. It is loud and rude, voice giving her a headache and making stars burst behind her eyes with every syllable it enunciates. She wishes it had some kind of physical form so she could grab onto it and strangle it. Her hands itch with the urge, and she curls them into fists; tight enough that there will be crescent-shaped indents if she looks.

Such words are unnecessary. Boundless you may be, but few can achieve the same as you.

I’m not asking for much – like I said, a little more pizazz. A little more something isn’t unreasonable to ask for. They're putting on a show for us, the least They can do is get Their actors performing well.

Not everyone can be outstanding. There is value in being average.

You are insufferable. You’d settle for nothing if you could! You’re such a bore – why must I be stuck with you? All of eternity, and nothing interesting within it!

You are able to watch anything you wish. You do not have to wait for company to return from its wandering journeys, nor watch the condemned fall to their deaths within you. I would say you have it rather well off.

Of course you would. You know nothing of the world.

How could I?

You know of the world. That attention swings back around onto Lizzie, burning intensity. She attempts to stare right back into it, frowning in the vague direction of this thing’s eyes. Would you say you did well? That you were satisfied with what you achieved in the pitiful time you had?

Its voice is mocking. Lizzie’s not stupid, this entity dislikes her for some reason – it has made that very clear since it arrived.

She remains silent. To prove it right is unthinkable; she doesn’t want to give it such satisfaction, not when it’s left her pissed off and angry. She almost wants to bite something. But to prove it wrong is equally impossible. To lie to a seemingly omnipotent entity would be like signing her own death warrant; and who even knows if she could return if killed by an entity like this.

She keeps her jaw locked; mouth shut.

See? The entity seems to take this as an agreement anyway. How can she be satisfied with the hand she was dealt?

Not everyone wants for the impossible.

Ah, but many do – few achieve it, sure, but there is that wishing. That wanting unique only to these creatures with a limited life. Tell me, don’t you want to see how good it could have been? How good you could have been? Its voice turns softer, though it remains loud enough that her ears ache, almost as though its pleading with her, asking her permission for something unknown.

“I…” she looks around, as though there’s someone else for her to look for, to look to. There is nothing but empty void. A chasm around her that only seems to open wider and wider with each passing second. “I guess?”

See? See! It crows, its presence growing overwhelming. Its as though her skin is melting, slowly turning malleable as clay as it slips free of its confines and away from her bones. The feeling is unsettling, not at all helped by the sensation of hands on her arms, pushing at her skin, as though remoulding her. Reshaping the clay of her being.

Those hands brush over her eyes, and the stars disappear.

She panics for a moment, unsure what to do with this sudden darkness – it had been dark before, yes, but there had been the small pinpricks of stars. The little glimmering, far-off sparks that promised some kind of life. She had almost been able to convince herself that if she reached far enough, reached for long enough, that she’d be able to drag herself back to where she should be – pull herself from the pits of the void she had somehow fallen into.

Those hands press into her eyes, deft fingers smoothing out around her eye sockets before forcing her eyes open again.

She squints and winces, shutting her eyes again immediately.

Be more gentle.

I was plenty gentle, the voice scoffs. It’s her causing the issue now.

The bright light of before makes the inside of her eyelids a faint red. There is warmth here, where there had only been nothingness before – it hadn’t been cold, but the lack of warmth had made it seem so.

She tests it by only opening her eyes the tiniest bit, face wrinkled as she grows accustomed to the presence of light once more. It takes a few minutes before she can look around properly, blinking, then blinking again as she processes where she is.

She turns, and her pumpkin is there. It sits comfortably, nestled in the grass and…with a small house poking from the side?

Did you not wish for more allies?

She pauses, before shrugging. This feels like a weird dream, one that she is aware is a dream but is unable to wake from. Knowing you're in a dream means you should be able to control it, right? And yet, nothing she wills into existence appears, nothing changes to fit into her will.

You chased away a potential ally on day one, the entity sighs. There was little to be done from there; you placed your foot on the path of loneliness first.

“That house was only built for a task,” she defends. “And it was ugly.” It was a disgusting thing, something that blocked her from progressing further – from turning her house into a pumpkin. She couldn’t have continued living in a shack like that, even if it kept someone by her side for a little longer.

But…this house spoke of a compromise. Of a discussion and an allyship being struck up.

You got her hair wrong.

Huh, did I?

Those hands are resting against her again, burning her scalp as fingers drag through her hair, teasing out the strands.

Oh, I see what you mean. Hm.

Lizzie runs a hand through her hair. Tries to run a hand through her hair. She lifts her hair up, and it all comes with her hand. She pulls at it, and feels no tugging on her scalp, no individual hairs threatening to break away.

Instead, it’s like someone lay a cloth over her head and glued it down. There are no individual strands, only one thick layer. She freaks out a little at that. She’s like some- some doll with felt glued to its head. She tugs at this felt, maybe a little desperately, attempting to separate it into the fine strands of hair she’s used to.

Look what you’ve done now, you’ve freaked her out. The voice turns patronising. Chill for a second, alright, just…it’s been a minute since I made anything as complex as you. Just be glad I remembered the lungs this time!

That…is ominous. And not at all something she wants to think about.

I appreciate you remembering the lungs this time, the Void says. Listening to the previous one stutter and attempt to inhale was…unpleasant.

It was like someone was trying to force air into a block of wood! She hates this entity. Hates, hates, hates it. Even as it drags a hand through her hair she hates it, even as it falls over her shoulders in a cascade of fine strands, she hates it. Strands that are the same as her own hair, no longer a piece of felt stuck to her head.

Ah, you ruined the hands, too. The Void does not sound surprised, only mildly commenting on all the things this second entity has ruined about her. As though its watching some poorly-made film, commenting on all the shitty practical effects like it adds a certain charm to the movie.

Always a critic, the entity mutters. Why don't you try to make an entire person from scratch? See how well that goes for you.

We have already seen ‘how well’ that goes for me. I am still attempting to recover the pieces, though it will be a few centuries more before there are enough fragments for you to rebuild them.

You’re still working on that? I thought you gave up on that ages ago.

There are too many joints in her fingers. She bends one, and it curls up almost completely. Rolling into a spiral like a snail’s shell. One of the beings – she can’t tell which – tuts softly and uncurls her finger again, smoothing it out and removing the excess joints.

It’s a passion project. I work on it when I feel the urge.

Lizzie feels a wash of fear then. Something that had initially been small enough to ignore, and then forcefully locked away in her chest so she was no longer focusing on it – focusing on the entities in front of her, watching them, making sure that they aren’t casually discussing the best ways to destroy her.

Here, right here, right now, she feels that fear burst free. Like a burst blood vessel as it all pours free from where it had been blocked up. She’s drenched with this fear within moments, left shaking and shivering, too few joints in her hands; her fingers are short and her palms are long, and then her fingers are long and the palms short, as though the entity cannot figure out how to model them.

That feeling of clay is back. But this time there is no darkness, no kind hand covering her eyes to block her sight from the horror of watching her flesh begin to slip free from the bone. The horror of watching a hand-shaped ident press against her elbow, guiding her skin to remain there for a moment longer as it smooths over the mistakes that had been made seconds prior.

She attempts to stumble away, but the hands are all around her, pressing her skin back into place. Holding her together.

Ah, dear. I don't think this was the best idea.

Oh, really? You know, I thought the fast breathing and rabbiting heart was because she was enjoying this.

Don't take such a tone with me, this was your idea in the first place.

I just wanted to show her how much better she could be! Lizzie’s brain begins to fuzz over, words becoming distorted, no longer making sense to her addled mind. Her eyes slip shut all on their own, no longer staring so intently at the remoulding of her skin. If you hadn’t pointed out the inconsistencies then she wouldn’t have noticed! If anything, this is your fault.

Well, alright then. Piece her back together will you? She can rest a little while. With me.

Whatever you say.

The burning hands press close again, before retreating entirely. She doesn’t know what to think. Only that the cool hands that brush over her face are much gentler than the previous pair. They carry the gentle care of a mother, of a childhood friend reunited.

She sighs, and gives into the comfort. Everything burns, and she feels as though she’s been fighting an unknown assailant for hours. Her limbs ache, like her muscles have been twisted back and forth by an unruly hand.

Leave us in peace. I have practice putting people back together…this shouldn’t take too long.

You're going to irritate Them. You’ve interfered with Their games now.

I am certain They will learn how to cope with it. To welcome the Void into that place, They already knew what was being invited.

I'm not helping you when this turns around and bites you in the ass.

Don't be so crude.

Lizzie keeps her eyes shut. Doesn’t have much of a choice with the hand still covering them. Though, if she did choose to open her eyes and resist the calm, she could lay her eyes on the stars again.

Though…she still isn’t sure which star is her own. Which is the one she is meant to return to.

[v2aattemptsart]

Some fanart for "A Glimmer of Light Refusing to Fade" by MagicSchoolbusDropouto8 on AO3 😋

(This was my favorite outfit Will wore that was described in the fic and I just RLY wanted to draw it. It just sounded so cozy)

[silly-lil-scribbles]

fuck you *purples your Will Byers*

here’s some fanart for @chouthechaoticraccoon ‘s stranger things fanfic A Glimmer of Light Refusing to Fade. It’s really good so you should check it out if you haven’t already (it’s on ao3). I hope the color theory is color theorying bc I don’t know what I’m doing and the background took like 2 hours

[aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade]

THIS IS AMAZING. OH MY GOD. I CAN’T EVEN SAY HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS, IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL

for @aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade’s fic on Ao3! It’s the scene from ch. 67

tumblr destroyed the quality as usual.

link to the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49303804/chapters/124412344

The reference was from pinterest but now I can’t find it :(

[triforce-of-mischief]

Memories and Nightmares

Summary: Legend has a phobia nightmare. Malon offers support and comfort.

Word count: 1980

Notes: Legend describes his nightmare with his little detail as possible, but he talks about events and uses words that may be triggering for trypanophobes.

AO3

Reblogs > Likes!

The nightmare didn’t let Legend leave easily. It was a multistep struggle, first to realize that he was stuck in a dream, then to claw his way out. Voices and images danced in his mind, attempting to play out further before he finally gained enough control to force his eyes open. He stared into the dark, more willing to gaze at pure blackness than the visions invented by his own mind.

Ever so slowly, the real world began to replace the realm of nightmares. The calls of imaginary enemies were drowned out by his own ragged breathing, and the soft snores of his brothers. Flashes of sterile light gave way to the sleeping form of Four, bundled right beside Legend.

The heroes had once again found themselves at Lon Lon Ranch, and the younger eight silently agreed to maintain the same sleeping spots as the first time they had visited. This meant that Four and Legend were back to back, which the smith was more than happy about. He was clingier than ever, and by the frequent amber glimmer of his eyes, Legend could guess who was responsible. The vet didn’t mind, though. Four was good at providing comfort without being overly affectionate, while Warriors preferred to keep his personal space altogether. Besides, all of Four would have Legend’s head if he dared to refuse Red’s care.

But right now, being surrounded by his brothers felt stifling. Legend couldn’t shake the memories of what had happened in his dream. Though the details were fading fast, he still remembered enough to know that he needed to be alone, and now. As quietly as he could, making sure to not disturb Four, Legend extricated himself from his blankets and slipped out of the guest room. Walking on half-asleep feet, he guided himself downstairs and to the living room.

He slowly sat on the couch, in the odd balance between wanting to sleep and gradually waking up. He stared at the far wall, feeling a bit dazed now. The remnants of his nightmare growled and hissed from where he had shoved them back, dangerously close to taking over again. He shook his head a bit clumsily, managing to stave off the images, but a phantom pain suddenly pierced his arm. He gasped, flinching away from empty air, defensively curling in on himself.

Go away, he told the lingering sensation. You’re not real.

Something touched his shoulder, and he instantly knew that it was very much real. He cried out and batted it away, his mind a few seconds late to determine what it was.

A cold metal gauntlet clamped around his arm. No- a gentle, warm hand hesitantly reaching out.

“Sorry, that was my fault. I shoulda warned you first.”

Legend had been so caught in his own mind, he hadn’t realized that Malon was downstairs too. He looked up at her, his tired brain taking a few extra seconds to recognize her concerned expression.

“Why aren’t you upstairs with the others?” she asked. “Too loud?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice to be steady just yet.

She hummed in consideration. “Nightmare?”

He nodded, confirming with a raspy “Mhm.”

“Shoulda known when I saw that look in your eyes,” she sighed. “Link’s given me that exact same face over too many nights to count. Like a spooked horse, I always tell him.”

Legend huffed a little laugh at the thought.

Malon gave him a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep either. Mind if I stay up with you?”

“Y-yes please,” Legend whispered, his voice breaking a little in the way that voices tended to when still recovering from sleep. He winced, but Malon didn’t seem to care.

“I was about to go to the kitchen and fix something up. Do you want any?” she offered.

“Sure.”

“I’ll put some water on to boil, then I’ll be right back.”

Legend was alone for the next few minutes, and spent the time slowly waking up more. Details of the room gradually came into focus and the sounds of Malon quietly preparing things in the kitchen became clearer. The adrenaline from his nightmare exhausted itself, leaving him with tired fear and hazy memories. The imaginary pain in his arm turned to a familiar dull ache, so he gritted his teeth and drew in on himself in a pitiful self-hug. He stayed like that until Malon came back, finding himself unwilling to move even as she sat right beside him.

“Did you have a nightmare too?” he asked, mostly to break the silence that threatened to hang between them.

“Nothing of the sort. I just found myself unable to rest tonight.”

Legend sat quietly for a moment, full of curiosity but knowing that it would be rude to ask. Malon must have sensed it, though, and granted him an answer to his unspoken question.

“To be honest, I was worried about you. You’ve had it pretty rough, huh?”

Legend was grateful that his blush was hidden behind his knees. “Yeah, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m sure at least one of the others has it worse-”

“Now, don’t you start with that,” Malon tutted. “I swear, every one of y’all just like the rest. Right now, I’m here to talk to you. Got that?”

“Fine,” Legend sighed. “I’ve been having more nightmares recently. I think we both know why.”

“Have you talked to the others yet?”

It was a gentle, honest question, but Legend flinched as he remembered a reoccurring event from his nightmares.

His own friends turned against him and held him down-

“Not yet.”

She waited a beat before asking, “Do you want to talk to me about it? I won’t judge.”

He would probably regret this honesty by morning, but he found himself nodding as he tried to decide what to say. “Tonight I- they- um…”

Speaking it out loud would bring vivid memories back from their current haze. Gathering the courage to do so was tricky, and Malon understood immediately.

“Take your time, hon. I’ll check the kettle while you find your words, all right?”

He chose his words carefully, mentally sounding them out to determine what he could safely say without sending himself into a panicked spiral. He had to piece a story together too, before the memories of the nightmare scattered into pure nonsense. What could he explain to Malon, and what should he leave out?

By the time Malon returned, Legend had prepared a retelling that was coherent but not detailed enough to trigger himself. The phantom pain had faded enough that he was able to sit normally, releasing his arm from his own grip. Malon offered him a mug, keeping another for herself as she settled beside him again. She took a sip of her drink and Legend followed her lead.

The liquid was perfectly warm, creamy yet smooth, and tasted like sweet honey. It had an immediate soothing effect, and Legend set it aside after only a few sips. “Feels like I’ll fall asleep if I drink any more. What did you put in this?”

“Nothing special,” Malon laughed. “Just water, milk, and honey… and a little love.” She winked, making Legend smile.

The vet twisted his fingers, wishing that he had his rings or his bracelet or something to fidget with as he spoke. Taking them off to sleep did have its occasional downsides. He took a deep breath before saying, “I’m ready to talk about my dream now.”

Malon lowered her mug. “I’m listening.”

The sooner he said it, the sooner it would be out of his head.

“The other heroes were chasing me. I didn’t have any weapons or my Pegasus Boots and there was that weird nightmare feeling where it’s like you’re trying to run through water? It took a while but they eventually gained on me. Th-they were all holding syringes and Warriors was there and he- he looked like a soldier from my era. He grabbed me and I yelled at him to stop before they could do anything and-”

He just had to finish saying it and it’d be over.

“He forced me to hold a syringe and told me to do it myself. I just… froze. S-so Warriors held me in place as the others all came forward at once. Four laughed in my face, saying how stupid my fear is, and- and then- they-”

His throat tightened, choking his words and his breath. He brought his hands up to rub stinging eyes, finding that he was unable to keep his fingers steady. They were trembling.

He was shaking.

Din dang it.

“Come here, sweetie.” Malon held her arm out, and Legend didn’t need to be asked twice. She pulled him into a hug, her presence more than enough to block out the memories of harsh grips and cold metal. She held him tight, undeterred by his panicked shivering. “That sounds like a horrible dream, but you’re all right now. Nobody’s gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to. Our sleeping minds like to play tricks on us, but our worst nightmares are just that- figments of our imagination.”

Legend shuddered. “Dreams are more real than you think… not this one, though. Even if it felt real… it wasn’t.”

If he kept telling himself that, he had to believe it eventually. No matter how many nightmares he woke up from, he couldn’t escape the feeling of being trapped on that island. This was different, it had to be.

“That’s right. The other boys would never do that to you, I promise.”

“Can… can I stay down here for the rest of the night? I don’t know if I’m ready to see them again yet…”

“Of course, hon. I can stay with you too, if you’d like the company.”

Legend sighed, finally feeling a little bit at ease. “Yes, please.”

****

When morning came, Warriors was the first to venture downstairs. His tense posture and darting eyes betrayed that he was searching for something, and he visibly relaxed when he entered the living room.

Legend was still fast asleep, curled up in Malon’s arms. Two empty mugs on the side table and a blanket tucked around the vet indicated that though the situation had been unexpected, they had made the most of it.

Malon gave Warriors a tired smile and whispered, “Glad to see somebody up. Don’t suppose you can go drag my husband out of bed so the animals can be attended to?”

“A worthy challenge,” Warriors said with a smirk. His grin fell as he glanced at Legend, who whimpered and pressed closer to Malon. “Is… he okay?”

“He will be,” Malon said, rubbing Legend’s back until he was sufficiently soothed. “Be gentle with him today, captain. He’s had a rough night.”

“I’ll make sure not to tease him too much,” Warriors said, and laughed when Malon gave him a half-hearted glare. “I know my brother’s limits. Trust me, he’ll feel better if I don’t treat him like something delicate. If he needs to talk about it, he knows to come to me.”

Malon hummed in agreement, but Warriors had the feeling that she was keeping something from him. “As long as you know what’s best for him.”

A floorboard creaked above their heads and Warriors instinctively looked up. “The others will come down soon, I should probably-”

“Yes, go get Link,” Malon prompted, shooing him with a nod of her head. “I’ll wake this one up while you’re gone.”

Warriors gave her a little wave before turning and retracing his steps, this time headed to Malon and Time’s room. He heard Malon say something in a hushed voice and Legend grumble in response.

Warriors hoped that Legend wouldn’t hesitate to approach him when he was ready. Nightmares were yet another thing that they needed to address. Goddesses knew that Legend could use some well-deserved rest.

[ngalu]

Just Kiss already!

[aglimmeroflightrefusingtofade]

♡ Byler

HEHEHE

They're attached at the hip. They're always together, and if they're not, they want to be.

Will steals Mike's clothes 24/7, particularly hoodies and shirts. (Mike would steal Will's, but Will is shorter than him, so he just steals his own back and they share drawers.)

Speaking of, Will and Mike have different heights. Mike ends up being 6'1, and Will ends up being 5'8. (Will hates being shorter and complains about it, but he doesn't mind as long as Mike gives him forehead kisses and hugs him tight enough that his feet come off the ground.)

When Mike and Will get together, Mike starts playing basketball and working out with Lucas to get strong enough to pick Will up. (When he does it for the first time, Will is not only flabbergasted but also extremely giddy and happy.)

Mike is an absolute simp. He sits there giving Will heart-eyes 24/7 and just happily flops on him. He's a black cat, but he's the biggest golden retriever in the world when it comes to his boyfriend.

On the opposite of that note, as much as Will is a shy, sweet person, he is also very sassy towards Mike and consistently teases him. (Mike doesn't mind, as it means Will feels safe and comfortable enough to make fun of him, and he knows Will would stop and apologize if he was actually upset.)

Neither Mike or Will can drive. Lucas has to come pick them up to take them to school. Mike can drive a little bit in a pinch (but will definitely hit a curb on every turn somehow, it is a parking lot there are no curbs HOW ARE YOU HITTING THEM), but Will will be so stressed that he does the little jerks of movement from tapping the gas and then panicking and flooring the brake. He might be crying. The gays cannot drive and neither can they.

Whenever Will draws something new, Mike's fanboying over it for at least fifteen minutes while Will turns bright red in the background before he adds it to his collection of Will Art.

WERE YOU SQUEALING AND KICKING YOUR FEET READING THIS BECAUSE I WAS LMAO