#fic: something out of a dream

[lbhslefttiddie]

youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either. and is also still, sort of, a sex flower

from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way

[mayhemspreadingguy]

I did these illustrations for @beholdingthegaytimes 's fic 'It's Only Forever, Not Long At All' which is a part of The Endless Big Bang 2023.

[smallblueandloud]

happy five year anniversary of me posting my first fic on ao3! that first fic was doctor who, and therefore entirely unrelated to this fic, but i figure this update is pretty on-brand anyway ;)

chapter 2 of the fsk dog park au, at long last! chapter 3 is already written and will probably be posted in a few days <3 love you all

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson Characters: Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons, ODC (original dog characters) Additional Tags: Meet-Cute, Final Mission Rarepair Exchange, they all have dogs! and they meet at a dog park! it’s really cute!, Fluff, Flirting, daisy has a little bit of a meltdown but it’s okay! Summary:

��Oh–” says Daisy, wavering, before she realizes she wrapped up everything interesting on her phone five minutes ago. “Sure,” she decides, turning around. “Hi.”

He grins. He’s cute, with curly hair and a bit of a beard. “I’m Fitz,” he says, waving sort of awkwardly. “I’m an engineer. I’m here with Rose, uh–” he gestures vaguely at the rest of the park. “She’s out there somewhere.”

“Nice to meet you, Fitz,” says Daisy, smiling back. “Yeah, it’s my first time here, Edward’s old owners moved and left him with me. I was their neighbor. Uh– I’m not really sure about this whole dog park… thing…”

(or, daisy meets two cute people at a dog park. written @genderfluid-and-confuzled for the final mission rarepair exchange!)

[mutantmayhems]

literal gremlin. (scrapped from the space set)

[feroluce]

Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.

[gierosajie]

I’m very curious about the party’s reaction to finding out that Siffrin is a ghost/imaginary friend given life through craft for your Show’s Cancelled AU.

As somebody who hasn’t seen the Genshin story this was inspired from, I’d imagine that the party would start to look for Siffrin and eventually stumble upon the King’s old house. There would probably be something in there that revealed Siffrin’s connections to the King and what exactly happened to Siffrin.

(Just an additional thought of what if the King’s craft keeping Siffrin alive was a more deliberate thing instead of a passive thing. Like what if the King killed Siffrin and then regretted it, using wish craft to bring Siffrin back.)

(Also, If the King’s wish craft was keeping Siffrin alive, then couldn’t another wishcraft user bring Siffrin back?)

Okay, so! Everyone else except Bonnie didn't know about Siffrin's whole "hasn't actually been alive for years" thing until after they've defeated the King. Bonnie figured it out a while before reaching Dormont and thought it was kinda neat being a sort of ghost, if not a bit sad that Siffrin couldn't experience things like he used to. They were also pretty excited at the notion of having their own super special secret only they and Siffrin were privy to

The others tho did know there had been something between Siffrin and the King before as they went up the House, especially during the confrontation and the three in the know just basically implying something really bad happened

Siffrin already made everyone forget him when Odile, Mirabelle, and Isabeau figure it out. They were all trying to piece together fragmented memories of him while looking for him when Odile realizes they won't find him, physically at least, and screw it she's gonna drag him back one way or another

They do also stumble upon where the King used to live while trying to find a way to get Siffrin to stick around longer. Mostly a bunch of notes both had on ways to bring back the island into memory scattered around, and some of Siffrin's stuff like his cloak and hat hidden away in a box

Also on that additional thought- the craft was deliberate but the end result was accidental. Memory is a bit more important in the AU's world building (kind of a bit more in line with Genshin and it's whole thing about remembrance = existence) and the two made an attempt to force the island to be remembered. The wish that made the island disappear and the ones they made ended up mixing weird, and it resulted in Siffrin getting killed but still being around and tied to the King's initial wish

[screwpinecaprice]

She's on a hospital bed, amnesiac after an accident and she's having a crush on this man who is apparently her husband.

@dragonuva's part on an art trade with them from last year! 🥰 It's based on the first chapter of Chiptune by Newlense.

Guys. This fanfic is my favorite FAVORITE connverse fic and I love it so much I don't care if the last update was in 2020 nor if it's never going to be continued. It's so tender and the angst whalloped my guts in the right places. 😭💕

[magnusbae]

If you're interested, here's a prompt from the ones who just shared:

"Then why did you do it?" "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

No rush hehe I hope you get rest and have fun writing this!

Now, see, I could have taken this as an open prompt and went with something else, but I know you like dreamling and so I was good.

Thanks for the prompt dear! 💖 Also special thanks goes to @cuubism for actually going through it 🌻🌻🌻 any mistakes are me ignoring her wisdom or straight up forgetting to edit it. one of the two.

Dreamling - some flavor of hurt/comfort(?) 'you dare?' kind of situation going on there, 1,394w

▾▾▾

“I cannot fathom why—” 

Dream halts mid-sentence, his outrage rendering him speechless for a precious moment in which Hob tries, fruitlessly, to come up with a way to placate him, to explain in a way that will somehow pass as acceptable to Dream. The betrayal is tangible in the air, so charged that Hob’s hair actually stands on end as if from static. It feels like standing at your front door, still safe but seeing the hurricane on the horizon, knowing that this false safety can and will change in moments. Hob cannot think of a single thing. 

“You.” Dream grits his teeth so tightly that they scrape loudly, the sound of it making Hob’s own teeth ache uncomfortably. “Know.” Dream says each word as if it takes a great burden to even use human speech and not simply burn a hole in Hob’s mind. Given Dream’s past record, which Hob had recently learnt of, perhaps it does. “You know I do not ask.”

“I know.” Hob winces.

There’s no denying that he knew. Knew full well that asking Dream’s sibling for help was a guaranteed way to not only outrage him, but also land Hob a very creative punishment and the end of their long friendship.

He knew that, and did it anyway. 

Would again, if he had to.

He will not apologize for that.

Dream seems to come to the same conclusion, cheeks reddening in a surprising display of humanity, of lack of control over his appearance. The darkness that creeps into his eyes is distinctly not human. Hob shudders but fixes his eyes on Dream’s, refusing to avert his eyes like a reprimanded youth. He did what he did, and he’s not sorry.

''Then.” To Hob’s surprise, Dream seems to level himself, to school the darkness out of his eyes and ask with a calm that is somehow more unnerving than his rage. “Why did you do it?" There is a finality to this question, like a judge asking for one last confession to tip the scale one way or another. There will be judgment at the end of it, Hob knows. 

“Because…” he sucks in a breath, there’s a ball of nerves in his stomach and frustration, surprising him with its intensity, it feels almost like anger.

Why is he here, searching for excuses for something he believes in wholeheartedly? He doesn’t want to learn firsthand of Dream’s notorious pettiness but he’s not here to play these sort of games. 

The outraged huff is stuck in his throat— he didn’t even realize he had raised his voice this much, not until the ring of it strains his ears. He is practically shouting. And he doesn’t care. 

 ''BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.''

There’s anger in it, frustration, a measure of desperation.

“I bloody love you more than I fear you, that’s why.” His own cheeks burn, itch, tingle with the indignation of it all. “Because I’m a besotted fool who would make a pact with the devil if I had to, if it meant helping you.” He gestures curtly at Dream, then spreads his arm in an exaggerated motion of question. “Why else? Seriously, why else?!” He stops at that, breathing harshly. This is not how he had imagined, not even close. Fuck it. And fuck Lucifer, too. And Dream’s all too pleased sibling, on top.

Through his outburst Hob had stopped paying attention to Dream’s face, only his eyes, latching onto them as if they were his anchor in this universe, the only constant thing, in life, in this.

When he finally looks, really looks, he realizes with a start that Dream’s cheeks are no longer red with anger, that his eyebrows are not as tightly knitted, that his pale lips form a small and lax ‘o’. 

His friend looks taken aback, pacified and…surprised.

Like he couldn’t fathom this being the reason for Hob’s supposed betrayal of trust. Like this was the last rationale he had expected to hear, like he, an Endless being of incomprehensible wisdom, is unable to conceive this simple truth. Like he’s at a loss now.

Like he’s a bloody idiot. Hob shakes his head in amazement, his own anger evaporating as quickly as it came. Yet again he wonders how it is possible to be all knowing and yet so blind, so oblivious to such a simple truth, one Hob didn’t even try too hard to hide, really.

“I know you didn’t want me to,” he softens his voice, speaking more quietly “but I really didn’t have a choice. If I could do this on my own, you know I would have, I’d do worse for you.” He smiles at Dream, he doesn’t even try to sound self-deprecating, it’s the honest truth. He would.

His hand drops by his side and he awaits then, for his judgment.

“You love, me?”

Hob doesn't know how to respond to such a simple question other than–

“I do.”

There’s nothing else to add to that, he said it all, he did it all, even Dream must understand this is no passing fancy. One does not risk their immortal soul for something insignificant. Especially not Hob. One does it when it means everything. And in this case, it did. Dream did. 

Dream seems to again, come to the same conclusion. 

He wilts, shoulders sagging. He looks both much older and much younger at the same time, like this knowledge has stricken him, hurt him.

“You shouldn’t” is all he says. 

“But I do.” Hob answers in return. 

“I see that.” Dream’s voice is a whisper carried by the breeze, gentle, endless, aching. He looks torn in that moment, the judge whose scales no longer measure in any understandable manner. He casts his gaze down. 

“Just let me,” Hob says. He did not come here demanding boons, nor love, only to help Dream. “Forgive my impudent human inclinations to save what I love, and let us continue as we were. Friends. “

“Friends…” Dream repeats after him, as if in disbelief.

Dream opens his mouth to say more—to accept or refuse, Hob doesn’t know—but in that exact moment Matthew half-crashes, half-lands on Dream’s shoulder, a flutter of black feathers and barely muffled curses.

“Boss! Oh for fuck’s sake— I mean cracker’s sake— I mean what the hell— I mean you’re fine—you’re actually okay, I was sure that this time you’re like legit—” he notices Hob then, and cawing loudly he curses again “You actually did it you son of a bitch— you really did!” His wings open excitedly, brushing against Dream’s face, covering it up.

“Matthew.” 

“Uh-” Matthew folds his wings immediately. 

Hob looks at Dream then, the moment is decidedly broken but he has to know if he’d see him again, he can’t just go on not knowing, it’ll drive him insane. “Dream—” he starts, but Dream speaks over him.

“We will discuss this—” Dream’s lips tighten, eyes flicking to Matthew and then back at Hob. “At a later time.” He concludes rather curtly, seemingly deciding that addressing exactly what they will be discussing is not something he wants his Raven to be privy to.

“Right…” Hob murmurs, not speaking further of the topic either. It’s one thing to break Dream’s boundaries over life and death, another entirely over his own impatience and need to know. Dream wanting to see him again at all is already a damn good sign, and Hob will take it, gladly.

“I’ll see you later then, Dream” He uses the name even while not being sure he is still permitted to, that he did not lose the privilege. Dream tilts his head but doesn’t object, instead he nods once and disappears in a swirl of golden sand.

“Show off…” Hob murmurs into the empty air, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a good feeling in his gut, he should probably be worried but he has a feeling that things will work out, that it all will be just fine. He can’t explain it, but he has learnt to trust his gut over the years. After all, it once led him to believe that he would never die.

It was right then, and it’ll be right now too. He and Dream will figure it out and will be better for it. Just like the other time, just like always. 

[bluishfrog]

Inspired by "let's make this night last forever" by alisonsomething and dizzy (@alittledizzy)

Fic Art Friday - event tag - event description

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[lelianasbong]

do you ever think about the fact that sera's adoptive human mother convinced her AS A CHILD that a total stranger hated her because of her race - to protect the woman's own pride, mind you!! it wasn't even true!! racist AND self-absorbed!!!! (which tbqh the venn diagram is a circle) - and the ramifications of sera cutting herself off as soon as she starts to say, "i hated her, and i hated- (myself)" and how ungenerously the fandom interprets her pain and makes it all about their picture perfect elf oc. because i do.

[plusultraetc]

I've accepted that this fic will probably never be finished (although parts of it may be repurposed for future stories), but this exchange still makes me :')

+ bonus bc it made me laugh all over again

[red-tea-lover]

Я все ещё пишу гребаный фанфик по дарквуду и хочу указать что скорее всего Джон Дарквуд бы СМОГ ДОЖИТЬ в теории ,если бы ��е "злоебучий лес инцидент" до появления Микуши и возможно даже понять прикол вокалоидов ,типа да я рандомно вкину знакомство деда лет 60(возможно 58?) с творчеством и Микушей )

I'm still writing a fucking Darkwood fanfic, and I want to point out that most likely the protagonist aka John Darkwood COULD HAVE LIVED TO SEE HATSUNE MIKU'S APPEARANCE if it weren't for the "evil fucking forest incident" like he would have been 60 years old (maybe 58?) at the time of her appearance and I think he would have been quite capable of understanding why people like vocaloids.

[ ниже будет большое пояснение как это возможно ,да это гига тупо но меня никто все равно не остановит // below there will be a big explanation of how this is possible, yes it is super stupid but no one will stop me anyway ]

Типа я настоящий нерд по старым технологиям и истории появления интернета и компьютеров в восточной Европе и думаю что ну , наш протагонист МОГ видеть и мог столкнуться со старыми компьютерами конца 70ых начала 80ых ,они были в разных НИИ(научно исследовательский институт) и скорее всего были бы использованы для расчёта всякой информации что была добыта в лесу. Типа напомню что скорее всего наш протагонист не абы кто,а человек связанный с армией и т.п, и даже если он сам не пользовался старыми эвм то явно знал тех кто мог с ними работать . Так что я думаю , в теории с крайне мелким шансом (и парой сюжетных допущений и информацией о том что в Польше интернет появился уже в 90ых как раз для сфер где работали ��сякие учёные и т.п) Джон Дарквуд мог случано в интернете пересечься с таким феноменом как Микуша

Like, I'm a real nerd on old technologies and the history of the emergence of the Internet and computers in Eastern Europe and I think that, well, our protagonist COULD have seen and could have encountered old computers from the late 70s and early 80s, they were in different research institutes and most likely would have been used to calculate all sorts of information that was mined in the forest. Like, let me remind you that most likely our protagonist is not just anyone, but a person connected with the army, etc, and even if he himself did not use old computers, he clearly knew those who could work with them. So I think, in theory, with an extremely small chance (and a couple of plot assumptions and information that the Internet appeared in Poland already in the 90s precisely for areas where all sorts of scientists worked, etc.) John Darkwood could accidentally cross paths on the Internet with such a phenomenon as Hatsune Miku

НИКТО МЕНЯ НЕ УБЕДИТ В ТОМ ЧТО ОН НЕ БЫЛ БЫ ТЕМ САМЫМ ЧЕЛОВЕКОМ ЧТО ШЛЕТ ВСРАТЫЕ ОТКРЫТКИ С БЛЕСТКАМИ И КОТЯТАМИ, ЕСЛИ БЫ У НЕГО БЫЛ ДОСТУП К ИНТЕРНЕТУ ЭТО БЫЛО БЫ САМОЕ УЖАСНОЕ И СМЕШНОЕ СОБЫТИЕ )))

на деле мне просто нравится использовать свой опыт из детства где мои бабушка и дедушка хорошо пользовались компьютером ещё в 2007 году когда им было как раз примерно 60+- лет ,и то что на самом деле ранний интернет это достаточно интересный концепт в историях где события на рубеже двух веков происходят. Кароче фанфик по идее "а что если чел выжил ???" превратился в самый огромный поиск информации и т.п что когда либо был. Типа вау первая глава уже занимает 25 тысяч слов а глав ещё 9...

NO ONE WILL CONVINCE ME THAT HE WOULD NOT BE THE VERY PERSON WHO SENDS CARDS WITH GLITTER AND KITTENS, IF HE HAD ACCESS TO THE INTERNET THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN THE MOST TERRIBLE AND FUNNY EVENT )))

in fact, I just like to use my experience from childhood, where my grandparents used a computer well back in 2007, when they were just about 60+ years old, and the fact that in fact the early Internet is a pretty interesting concept in stories where events take place at the turn of two centuries. In short, a fanfic based on the idea of "what if the guy survived???" turned into the largest search for information, etc. that has ever been. Like wow, the first chapter already takes up 25 thousand words and there are still 9 chapters left until the end...

[tragicclownwrites]

A Wish Upon A Falling Star - Chapter 3

by tragicclownwrites

“When those dark feelings come over you, only your heart can decide whether to let them sink deeper into the darkness or to bring them out into the light of the sun. Accepting both is what it means to have a heart. It’s what gives us strength (…) That’s why I choose to let the light shine onto my own darkness. And Sora, that light is you.” - Riku, Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance (novel)

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[vanmarkus]

I said before that I fully expect a buddie divorce era 2.0 in season 7, but what if it's all gonna be Eddie bitching about Natalia and Buck getting annoyed to the point where Eddie has no choice but to confess to Buck

[awkwardtickleetoo]

what’s up gang

so the other day i had this idea for a tiny blurb based on this ask from @wishitweresummer , as well as a gif that @mushiewrites showed me that he and summer were talking about (i’m not gonna post the gif but if anyone’s curious you can always dm me and i’ll show you) and i actually ended up writing it!!

it’s nothing crazy, literally just like 700 words that i wrote out of nowhere for fun, so it’s pretty simple, but i hope everyone likes it anyway :D

lee!george, ler!dream, 699 words

enjoy <3

--

George’s heavy, panting breaths cut through the air of Dream’s bedroom, matched only by the sounds of harsh winds and pouring rain outside the house. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, letting out a quiet whimper that only seemed to egg Dream on more.

When he told Dream he was bored due to the power outage and the storm outside, he had expected them to just brainstorm ideas of what to do to pass the time.

He did not expect Dream’s evil smirk and comment that he knew exactly what to do, and he did not expect Dream to suddenly start chasing him around the dark house, yelling threats that made George’s heart skip a beat and nervous giggles build up in his chest.

While George knew the layout of the house well, it was not easy to navigate in the dark, only lit by candles scattered throughout some of the main rooms. He kept his arms out in front of him, feeling for any corners or walls he might run into, nearly tripping down the stairs and catching himself on the railing at one point, but it didn’t take long for him to be caught.

From there, he had expected Dream to just grab him, throw him around a little, and they would both giggle and wrestle for a while before moving onto something else. He was partially right– Dream definitely did manhandle him and throw him over his shoulder in a way that made his entire being feel fuzzy– but he didn’t stop there.

He didn’t expect Dream to have a plan.

And he definitely didn’t expect Dream to beeline straight to his room, throw him onto the bed, and immediately dig his fingers into his ribs.

His reaction was instantaneous, letting out a scream loud enough that he was genuinely glad Sapnap wasn’t home, because he probably would’ve thought George was dying. The shock and confusion of the situation made his reactions more frantic than either of them anticipated, and he barely had the time to think clearly enough to try to throw Dream off.

Which is what led him here in the first place.

Apparently Dream felt he had breathed enough, because suddenly there were hands gripping his thigh, one holding it down against the bed just above his knee and the other squeezing and scratching at his inner thigh like his life depended on it. George screamed, arching his back and thrashing as much as he could, head thrown back against the bed.

“AHH– NAHAHAHAHA! DREHEHEHEAM–!” George struggled to speak through his hysterical laughter, completely lost in the horrible sensation.

“Still bored?” Dream asked teasingly, the evil smirk never leaving his face, his hand jumping up from George’s knee to dig into the crease between his hip and thigh, making his laughter kick up even louder, growing more desperate and broken.

“FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU?!” George spat, fighting as hard as he could to get away, but Dream’s hands stifled his kicking enough that it was nearly useless, and his mind was too cloudy with desperation and exhaustion to really think of another plan. He tried to curl up, hoping he’d be able to reach down to grab Dream’s hands, but he wasn’t exactly able to rely too much on his fine motor skills at that time, so it wasn’t nearly as successful as he had hoped.

“Aww, Georgie, I know you don’t mean that,” Dream teased further, pausing his hands for a split second just to hear George whine at the anticipation, before his body was wracked with another round of laughter when he dug back in.

“NOHOHOHO, GOHOD, AH– PLEHEHEASE!” George begged, gripping the sheets with one hand and throwing his other arm over his face to try to hide at least some of his embarrassment.

They both knew Dream knew George’s limits better than anyone else, and trusted that he wouldn’t go anywhere near overboard with his torture, which George was eternally grateful for.

Unfortunately for him, however, that meant he would just have to deal with that suffering for the foreseeable future– knowing it would only stop when Dream felt it was time.

He could only hope the power would return soon.