#fic? not fic? who knows anymore

[hairmetal666]

Eddie stands at the edge of the ruined, stinking field, heart somewhere down by the soles of his feet. He watches the grey vines creep across the rotten earth, bracketing the blackened and split pumpkins.

"This can't be happening again," Steve says next to him. There's nothing in his voice, in his expression.

And Eddie doesn't know what to say because it is happening, the Upside Down is creeping into Hawkins, Vecna defeated or not.

"We have to tell the others," is Eddie's response. He doesn't know how he sounds normal when his heart is breaking, when Steve's blankness is killing him.

They walk back to Eddie's van in heavy silence. He can't read what Steve is thinking and that's--they're not something, not yet, but they spend all their time together and it's right there, under the surface, and--

He always knows what Steve is thinking, now. Can read his face like Tolkien wrote it, no matter what's happening, but right now it's empty, unreadable, unfathomable, untouchable King Steve risen from the grave.

The drive back to Hop's cabin is silent. Eddie doesn't even turn on music, his brain can't take it.

Cars fill the cabin's driveway, everyone in attendance, everyone waiting. On the porch, they hear the TV, the tinny whirr of lightsabers. It all stops when they push open the door, movie paused, conversations broken off, every face turned in their direction.

Neither of them speaks. Looking at all these faces, the kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Hop and Joyce, the hope and trust, and he can't--he can't.

"Well?" Joyce prompts. She's working a kitchen towel between her fingers.

He nods as Steve says, "it's back."

Eddie expects an outcry, horror, an explosion, but it's quiet. Quiet enough he can hear Steve's soft breaths next to him. Quiet enough he gets to watch as the news hits on each face in the room. It's like a punch every time.

It's so much different from planning the fight against Vecna. There was so much energy, drive, to get it done, to defeat the Upside Down forever. There wasn't silence, not ever, no faces painted with grief. Even when things were at their worst, an undercurrent of hope buoyed the group.

"Are you sure?" It's Nancy who breaks the silence, of course it is.

"It's the tunnels all over again," Steve answers.

"El?" Hopper asks. "Have you--?"

Will and El are looking at each other, Eddie's sure that no one else in the room exists for them.

"We haven't felt anything." El finally says.

"Nothing?" Mike's eyes flick between them.

"Not since Vecna," Will says.

"It's--it feels--" El waves at the back of her neck.

"Blank." Will finishes.

"Blank isn't gone," Erica says.

Dustin hums, eyes distant. "So, it went dormant."

That gets all the kids going, arguing and shouting over each other, and it isn't long before everyone is involved.

Eddie throws himself into it, grateful to be back in a familiar place of planning, discovering what they're up against, fighting. They're at their best like this, all of them, and it takes the edge off the fear eating up his insides.

He doesn't really get a chance to talk to Steve one-on-one, but Eddie's aware of him always, catches the moments in between bickering with Mike and shouting with Dustin and whispering with Robin where he goes distant, empty, just like at the field, just like in the car.

Eventually, everyone trickles home for the night, Hop's cabin emptying until it's just the Byers, Hoppers, and Steve. And since Eddie goes wherever Steve is--

Steve stands at the window in their room, back to Eddie. His shoulders are rigid, and Eddie is--he's scared in a whole new way. Steve is--he's strong, he keeps them together, he. They look to him to be brave, to be the first to jump, and--

"Steve?" Eddie comes up next to him.

His eyes are squeezed shut, fists clenched.

"Sweetheart?"

Steve opens his eyes, tears track down his cheeks. "I don't think I can do this again," he sobs. "I don't think--" He presses his fists to his eyes, like he's trying to force the moisture back inside.

Eddie grabs his wrists, gentle, murmurs, "it's okay, it'll be okay, I've got you."

"How can it be okay?" Steve asks. His face is wrecked and Eddie's heart shatters. "This was supposed to be over, Eddie. We were supposed to be done with fighting, we beat Vecna. So, tell me how it's going to be okay."

He freezes, unsure how to respond. In the end, "you're right," he says. "it's not okay. And I don't want to pretend that it is. It fucking sucks. We did the work already. We shouldn't be right back here like it never happened."

"But we are," Steve sniffles.

"But we are. And you know what?"

"What?"

"We're going to get through this. Just like we did the last time."

"We almost lost you last time, Ed. We almost lost Max. What if--what if--" Steve's eyes fill again. "I can't do this without you," he sobs.

Eddie doesn't hesitate, pulls Steve into his arms, holds him as tight and close as physically possible. "You won't." Eddie soothes. "You won't. I'll be right here with you. I promise."

"How can you know?"

Again, there's only one answer for that. "I don't. But I know I'll never leave your side willingly. None of us would. And I know that we're going to fight--all of us--like we always do."

"How can you have so much hope?" He asks. "After everything?"

"It's hard," he answers. "I'm terrified. But I know I have you, and Robin, and Dustin, and Wayne, and--everyone. We fight for each other, you know?"

"We keep going because we have to," Steve says.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We protect each other and this godforsaken town, no matter how much it sucks."

Steve's laugh is husky and short. "It sucks so much."

"Real trash heap of a place."

"And that's without the alternate dimension and monsters."

"I think we've got a really strong ad campaign for the Hawkins tourism board." The giggle that escapes from Steve is the sweetest thing Eddie's ever heard.

Later, the lights off, Steve pulls him close. "I'm so glad I have you," he whispers, fingers trailing through Eddie's curls. "You give me something to hope for."

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[hotshotsxyz]

beer & apologies

(buddie) (722 words) (7x04 coda)

It’s late, later than any reasonable person would show up on a friend’s doorstep, but Buck’s got this bright, warm feeling in his chest and all he wants to do is apologize so he can share it. For a split second he thinks about knocking, but that feels a little too much like going backwards. Instead, he lets himself in and hangs his key on the hook.

“Eddie,” he calls quietly into the still house.

“Kitchen.” The reply is soft, easy, like Eddie was expecting him.

Buck steps into the room and holds up the beer he brought.

Eddie looks up at him and grins, soft and warm in the glow of the lamplight. “What’s that for?”

“This is ‘sorry for acting like a teenager and spraining your ankle’ beer,” Buck says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I’m sorry.”

Eddie sighs and pushes an empty chair back from the table with his foot, gesturing for Buck to sit. “I’m sorry too,” he says.

“No, no, you don’t—" Buck starts.

“Yeah, I do,” Eddie interrupts with a wry grin. “You should definitely be sorry-er, though, so I’ll take the beer.”

Buck snorts and sits, setting the six pack on the table between them.

“We didn’t—well, I didn’t…”

“I know,” Buck says. “I was just—”

“I know,” Eddie says softly.

A few, quiet moments pass, and it’s comfortable, exactly what Buck was missing the last couple of days.

“Hey,” Eddie says suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, “at least now I know why you always said no to basketball.” He smiles, loose and just a tiny bit mischievous.

Buck splutters. “What? No! I wasn’t that bad,” he protests.

Eddie lifts his injured ankle and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well maybe, but—”

“Uh-uh,” Eddie says, “no buts. You haven many talents, Buck, but basketball isn’t one of them.”

Buck ducks his head and grins. “Maybe I’ll get Tommy to teach me, then I can beat you without playing dirty.” Saying Tommy’s name out loud gives birth to a few giddy butterflies in his stomach.

“You two make up?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “He uh—texted me.” The butterflies turn to little rocks.

“Good,” Eddie says, “that’s good.” He grabs a beer and twists the top off. “I really think you guys will get along, if you give him a chance.”

“We, um. Yeah. We probably will.” Buck grabs a beer of his own and stares at the label.

He doesn’t—he didn’t mean to lie. It just kind of… came out. Which, it’s Eddie. Buck knows he could tell him exactly what happened, right now, and it’d be fine. It’d be completely fine because it’s Eddie and he knows Eddie would be cool about it, probably even happy for him! But when he goes to open his mouth it just. Doesn’t.

“How’s—uh. How’s Marisol?” he asks instead, tripping over his words.

Eddie shrugs. “She’s fine, same as always. Apparently Christopher got her to play Fortnite, which, according to him, was a disaster.”

Buck laughs, shaking his head. “That kid,” he says softly.

“That kid,” Eddie agrees. He takes another swig of beer and sits back.

“Hey, wait,” Buck says suddenly. He lurches forward and snags the bottle out of Eddie’s hand. “You can’t have this, you’re on pain killers.”

“It’s my apology beer!” Eddie protests.

“Nope, two sips is plenty. I can’t hurt your ankle and your liver on the same day.”

“It’s after midnight, it’s tomorrow,” Eddie pouts. “Give it.” He makes a halfhearted attempt to grab it back, but Buck holds the beer aloft.

“Nuh-uh, absolutely not,” Buck says. “You can drink your apology beer this weekend.”

“My apology beer is going to be flat and stale,” Eddie replies, unimpressed.

Buck rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you a new apology beer, alright?”

“Promises, promises.”

“I will!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You better. Want to bring it over on Saturday? We can watch the game.”

Buck’s grin falters a little bit, even as that warm feeling bubbles up in his chest all over again. “I uh- can’t, sorry.”

“What, you got a hot date or something?” Eddie asks with a laugh.

Buck takes a long swallow from the beer he stole from Eddie. “Yeah, something,” he says with a hollow laugh.

He feels like a liar.

[soulwrencher]

I feel like post!fight!vi! Is something else… like she’s just so fucking strong and her arms are so big and her back muscle omggg but even with all the adrenaline she’s still so gentle with reader? (Not ALL gentle, but never as rough as she could be)

oh my god, YES. on that note: merry christmas to everyone who celebrates!

i think vi would never use her full strength on reader, actually she promised herself that. why? because you know, vi kinda hates herself and thinks she would hurt you, and if she did, if she ever hurt you, vi would absolutely spiral. so she's constantly just holding herself back. i mean; she's just a big hurt puppy.

so you constantly reassure her that it's okay to lay her head on your chest and that you want her to squeeze you a little tighter.

and then one day, vi is resting on your chest, and you trace her shoulders, drag your fingers all the way down her back. "so pretty," you whisper.

"but i'm so rough," vi pouts while looking up to you through her lashes. and you just calmly respond: "i like you just the way you are."

[iizuumi]

Absolutely obsessed with this fic, had to draw it ♥

[volivolition]

DAY 4: DRAMA - Put on your prettiest face for the masses!

gonna start adding silly captions actually. [POINTS ACCUSINGLY] MELTY FUCK (AFFECTIONATE)!!

[crossthread]

No jokes here. The Navy’s best pilot and the Navy’s best admiral. Between them, eight air-to-air combat kills and five stars. These were men who commanded respect with or without your approval. This was the picture of ruthless competence.

Debriefing (& Other Stories) • part 2 of Easier Done Than Said by @compacflt

[jellyfish-grave]

Don't talk to me i am coping

[necrotic-nephilim]

any opinions on joker junior!tim/jason?

oh my GOD yes-

Joker Junior!Tim is one of my guilty pleasures. i'm *obsessed* with the concept, i think it's so horrifying in such an intriguing way. it's tricky to work into the main timeline, but that's sort of the fun of it, bc generally you have two routes: Joker Junior happened to Tim when he was Robin and he's since moved on and continued to be Robin then Red Robin. or it happened to him as Red Robin and is a current thing that the characters in the fic are dealing with. and both are good.

because there's endless potential of how to do it with JayTIm. does Jason save Tim, does Jason *know* in the first place, if it happens after Jason is back as Red Hood how does he react, etc. i've read it in fics and i love every version.

but i think i'm intrigued by the idea of Joker Junior happening before Jason comes back as Red Hood and he finds out about it and he's *pissed*. like infinitely more pissed than he would've been. but his anger isn't in protection of Tim, it's at Bruce for not learning, for letting this happen again. and for making a brainwashed child have to kill Joker because *again*, Bruce couldn't do it. the point isn't about if Joker is alive or dead. it's that *Bruce* didn't kill Joker and Jason's death didn't mean enough to Bruce to stop Joker before he did it again. because Joker Junior really is the proof Jason needs to shove in Bruce's face about child sidekicks and Robins and Joker. and since Jason didn't exist in the universe where Joker Junior happened, we never saw a real comparison of the two. but i think if they happened in the same universe, it makes what Joker does to Tim far more purposeful. because now he knows he can kill a Robin and *get away with it*. so he wants to push it. how do you top *killing Robin*? like, if that doesn't get to Batman *what does*? Joker Junior seems like the perfectly reasonable next progression. if a dead Robin doesn't break the Bat, then breaking Robin beyond recognition seems even bigger. and Joker trying to get Tim to kill Bruce as Joker Junior would likely be Joker just seeing if Bruce would let it happen. could Bruce bring himself to stop Tim? and of course Joker doesn't find out bc Tim kills him instead, but it's such a fun question.

and so, i think Jason would *know* his death in a way, caused this. Joker did that to Tim because he didn't get enough of a rise out of Bruce for killing Jason. if Bruce had *just* killed the Joker, none of this would've happened. another kid wouldn't be irrevocably fucked up.

as for Jason's opinions on Tim specifically, i think it's fun if Tim retires from vigilante work entirely after the incident. (with Steph taking over as Robin for a much longer and more significant period instead of just getting fridged) because Tim has very black and white morals so knowing he killed someone, even under the influence of Joker venom, he'd immediately put down the cape, suggest Steph to take up his mantle and quietly retire. he knows what he's capable of now, pushed to the edge and it scares him. i think it's fun if it scares him *because* he was lucid. if he was truly under the brainwashing control, he would've killed Bruce. but he didn't. he had a moment of clarity, and decided to kill the Joker. and he knows that was *him*, not Joker Junior. he made that decision and now, he lives with it.

which means Jason would be almost pissed off by Tim, at first. because they're reacting to their trauma *wildly* differently. Jason wants blood for blood, vengeance, war, and to make Gotham feel his wrath. but Tim just wants to. disappear. quietly vanish and live a quiet life, even refusing to run comms. Jason doesn't understand how TIm doesn't share the anger and passion Jason has for justice. he knows what Tim is capable of and so does Tim, so why doesn't Tim lean into it? why doesn't he take back control? bc this is letting the Joker win, to Jason. after all, Jason is the guy who took Joker's old name to prove a point. and now he's facing another person broken by Joker who just. is a normal guy. i'd love to write Jason forcibly dragging Tim back into the superhero life, trying to trigger the worst out of him and wanting to find kinship in Tim. because that's another part of it- this is someone else who might actually understand Jason's experiences and Jason just wants to not be alone. he wants someone else who gets what it feels like. so he makes Tim face the trauma Tim is running from and pushes and pushes until Tim snaps. i think it could be fun.

don't get me wrong, i love softer JJ!Tim in JayTim stuff just as much, where Jason is more protective and they bond and end up really close and taking care of each other because of it. but i'd love to lean into the fucked up nature of it. for Jason to want to rip Tim open and see just how much of the Joker is left inside of him. for Jason to be obsessed with the other Robin that Joker broke. for Jason to be even angrier at Bruce because of it all. there's endless potential and it will forever remain my guilty pleasure for JayTim.

[sapphicscience]

this heart still beats for you [AO3] [SqW] - chapter 1 - the shaunajackie ghost (1990) au that absolutely no one asked for. jackie solves her own murder, with help from a storefront psychic named lottie matthews.

1.6k for chapter 1 / 8k total, rated T

Jackie Taylor was not made for home improvement. Okay, maybe "home improvement" is a little dramatic. But Jackie Taylor was not made for painting apartments, either. She's more a picking-out-paint-colors kind of girl. And she did a great job with her part, if she does say so herself—dusty rose for her own room, a faded mint green for Shauna's. Pretty colors separately and together, and one hundred percent landlord-okayed, just as long as they paint it shitcan beige again before they move out.

[mochindayo]

Oh, So much cat fur || L/A/DS Z/ayne x MC

I made an ao3 a bit ago. I've been a lurker on there since...idk...years, but. I'm going to uhh...i think post fics there too haha. may or may not see some crossposting. i'm being wild and it's also going to have regular fics (haha, that is if i decide i'm writing in the first place xD) there's one snz fic and one vanilla fic right now lol. Am i nervous? sure, but like- also i've lost it, idk. here we are. anyways. I'm so into LADS rn. here we are. i want to write more, but i always say that, write one thing, and disappear for another 5 months. maybe i'll change, who knows. I’m taking advantage of my motivation while I’ve got it rn

the portal, to...a fic in my ao3 lol. but i'll also put the fic here under the cut...because..why not?

Zayne, sneezing, because little kitty Zayne is choking on his own fur!!?? HUH!? OK SIR!?

======================

Zayne was always a neat and orderly person. It irked him that he was the cause of the copious amount of cat hair that was beginning to collect–on him and his furniture. 

Ever since the bizarre event that had left him with cat ears and a long, fluffy tail, he had been doing his best to maintain his cleanliness. This was lasting longer than he had wistfully hoped. 

He was shedding everywhere. 

The elegant strands of his midnight fur that adorned his cat features had begun piling up, turning his couch and sheets a grayish hue. He practically ate cat hair with every meal now. If anyone had a pet that shed, they would understand. 

Zayne had decided in order to lessen the amount of shed fur, he would brush his ears and tail three times a day. It was just about time to start his midday grooming session. He figured there should be enough time before you came over for lunch. 

Oftentimes, if you spent the evening with him–whether it was in his office or in his apartment–he would let you brush him. It was soothing. He would just melt into your touch. 

He got to work, grabbing his brush and finding a comfy space on the wood floors. 

How long has it been since he’s vacuumed? He admitted to himself, he had begun to slack on the cleaning. It had gotten exhausting keeping up with the amounts of sweeping he had to do everyday and becoming a cat has made him more prone to naps these days. Therefore, his floors were gaining quite the collection of cat fur. 

Zayne sighed slightly as he settled onto the floor in a cross legged position. However, no matter how gentle he sat down, it  hadn’t stopped him from stirring up the stray strands of fur into the air. He started on his 

With the precise motions of a surgeon, he ran the brush over his ears first. An attempt to ensure that each motion was controlled as to not let too much cat fur fly. The feeling was pleasant, he almost purred. 

Strands of his soft black fur detached from the brush, regardless of his attempts, drifting lazily through the air. 

He watched them float.

A small sigh left his lips. No matter how careful he was, the fur would go wherever it felt. The sun’s rays illuminated the fur flying through the air, accentuating how they floated gently before landing on his clothes, his floor–his face.

He gave a frustrated exhale from his nose, blowing the cat furs away from his nostrils. Then, he moved on to brushing his tail. He wasn’t a big fan of brushing his tail. It was a human scaled version of a maine coone’s tail, those of which were already long and fluffy. He swiftly moved the brush through his tail. Unlike his ears, this took more effort and these strands were more prone to flying wherever they felt like. 

More and more fur lifted into the air, curling in invisible trails around him. It was like a mini cloud of cat fur always hung around him. 

That’s when he felt it. 

A faint, miniscule tickle on the tip of his nose. It was hardly worth acknowledging at first. Just a light sensation that teased the edges of his sinuses. His nostrils gave a tiny twitch, and then nothing.

Zayne continued brushing, doing his best not to acknowledge any sensations on his face. This of course, scattered more fur into the air around him. Not that it could be helped. Still, he refused to give into the growing irritation, or acknowledge the way his breath had begun to catch. He was still in control. He could do this. 

He finally made it to the ends of his tail. The fullest, most luxurious part. It was beautiful, yet he cursed it. Although, you personally loved when he let you run your hands through it. He gave a few generous strokes, running the bristles through the fur with precision. 

More and more fur detached, swirled through the air, landing everywhere. 

His breath hitched. The tickle was beginning to settle in the back of his nose as he continued. He gave a particularly harsh tug on his next stroke as a knot had nestled itself deep in his fur. Big mistake on his end. A small plume of fur flew up into the air, curling directly into his face. He could feel each ticklish strand land on, around, and in his nose. The teased and tickled as he shakily inhaled. 

“No, no, n-nhh…I d-don’t– don’t need to snihHh–sneeze–” 

His nostrils flared, protesting the cat fur that tickled his nose. His breath hitched and stuttered, chest heaving. Fighting a losing battle, he finally raised his hand up to his nose. He wasn’t allergic to cat hairs, but his nose was quite sensitive to the touch. 

At last, his breath caught.

“Hhh–hh’Tscht!” He pinched the first sneeze off behind his fingers. It was refined and quiet, yet it did not relieve him from the tickle that plagued his nose. Before he had time to think, his nose protested once again, and suddenly once became six times.

“Heh-’Tcht! –eH’Tcht! N–tchtt! ‘Tch! ‘Tch! ‘tchhh!” Zayne wasn’t going to stop anytime soon if he didn’t release his nose to expel the cat fur, but habits kept him from doing so. “ahH–...s-so tickly..s-stuhHh’tcht!! ehH’Tcht! S-stupid cat f-fur’TCHT! ehH–’Tcht!” 

Each sneeze–albeit quite–harshly jerked his body and shook more cat fur into the air.

“Sh-hiH-iHt’Tgxt’ch! ah–Tchtt! hihH–heh’Tchht!” 

His body repeatedly betrayed him as his nose gave in to the itch–even as he fought to suppress them. Somewhere in the midst, he heard his door unlock. ‘Oh no, they’re here already. How long hahH– has it b-been?’ With all the commotion from his nose he had forgotten you were coming over. 

Soon, he heard the sound of your feet headed in his direction.

“Zayne? Are you… wh-what happened to you?” You tried to cover up your amusement by coughing to hide your laughter. Zayne tried his best to glare at you through his bleary eyes.

“T-too muhh’Tchh! hehH’TChh! Toomuchcatfur ahH–’TChh!!!” He stuttered out through the sneezes. “Hehh…I-I can’t s-stohH–p…”.

“Do you maybe think, you should, perhaps, take your hand off your nose? Stop stifling mayhaps? Or would you rather forever trap those tickly–”

“hehH–eH’DTZsh’iiihh!!” Even the mere word tickly made his nose burst. At least he finally let himself release the sneezes freely, “ahEhH’DZSH–iihhh!! eHEH’DSZHIew! heh’DZSH–IIHH–…hhh..”.

You clicked your tongue in feigned disappointment, “Kitty Zayne choking on his own fur?”

His ears flattened as he sniffled the mess back, rosy cheeks gave away his embarrassment. You gave him a cheeky smile as you pulled some tissues out of your back pocket. You held them out, nudging them towards his face as he still glared (lovingly) at you.

“This is n-not amuHh…amusing…hh…hH’iHhh–’Tschhh!” He sneezed again and hastily grabbed for the tissues. He blew his nose harshly in an attempt to evict any stray cat fur left in his nose. 

“Well, I found it quite amusing,” You giggled as you plopped down on the floor right in front of him, “though you had me worried for a moment there when you wouldn’t open your door or respond to your phone.”

He looked back at you above the tissues as he examined the expression on your face. A look of both amusement and relief. 

“I did…not mean to worry you. Apologies, my dear,” He sighed, his lips twitched into a small smile. 

“It’s no worries! The scene I walked into made up for it. Imagine, me walking in, worried, just to find you sitting on the floor, sneezing your head off, surrounded by a cloud of your own fur–”

“OhH–no wh–y–heH’TSCHHH! eH’Tschh! eH’Tch! ‘tch–’tch–’tch…heh…haHh–e’Tschhhh! Why did you have to mention it again?” He once again blew his nose into the tissues. Though they were quite wet by now. You threw your head back, cackling.

“I’m sorry, Zayne!! I didn’t realize you were so suggestible!” Regardless of his embarrassment, your laughter was still music to his ears. 

“Mhm…what will I ever do with you, hm?” He let out an amused sigh. 

“Why don’t we settle onto the couch instead of going out today? Now seems like a perfect time for an afternoon nap, yeah?” You beamed as you reached to scratch his ears. Miraculously, your hand made it to his ears before he could stop you. He let out a small pur, which in turn caused his cheeks to turn a deeper shade of red.

“S-sounds good to me,” he finally replied after he let you scritch behind his ears. You knew he enjoyed that spot. You hummed happily and helped him up from the floor. Zayne followed without protest, unable to stop the small purrs that escaped his throat.

Moments later, the two of you were nestled together on his plush sofa. Zayne’s breaths were slow and steady, though a faint sniffle escaped him now and then. The sneezing had finally eased, leaving his little cat-self drowsy. His tail curled lazily over your legs and with each soft exhale, his ears would give a tiny flick. He was the first to doze off, with you not too far behind.

[gatzbright]

dream & george; falling in love

Dream: 'Have either of you talked about liking each other in the past?' George: *Scoffs* Dream: ... Well— George: *Giggles* Dream: Well, none of the answers fit. But I'd say, like, we've talked about 'whether' ... George: The weather? Dream: Yeah.

Dream: The realisation that, once again, I met someone that's not going to be my friend, but something more. They were never meant to be my friend in the first place. I can't avoid it. If I'm going to fall in love, I'm going to fall in love. So this song is a cry to please be gentle, please don't make me even more paranoid.

Dream: I want that part of my life to be private, you know? Regardless of who that person is ... Once the cameras are off, once we're not doing anything, it's our time. It's me and you. There's no one else. No one else exists in the world, regardless of the fact that there's thirty-million people that are looming over.

Dream: Because I'm famous and because I have all this attention on me—when I'm in my normal life it's like, I want to put the people in my life in the spotlight and make sure they feel that way. But then there's lyrics like 'the celebrity in my bed' and 'close the curtains now you're all mine' ... It's about, you know, that special someone in your life, and how in my mind, because I feel so special, I want them to feel that same specialness. So, yeah, it's about relationships and how I want that person to feel special like I do.

dream @/dreamwastaken: .@/GeorgeNotFound you've had such a big impact on my life I don't even know where to start. helping me code my videos sometimes, helping with random ideas within videos, encouraging me and always being the light in the room to make things even just a little bit brighter. you took a chance on me out of university, making thumbnails and coding for scraps because we wanted to make it big and I’m proud to say that we did it and I’ll have an appreciation for you for the rest of my life because of your friendship, kindness, and love you’ve shown me. love you man. idc if you’re never serious or if we joke around a lot, you have a place in my heart and I’m looking forward to finally meeting you and taking our next step in content creation and friendship. LOVE U

Dream: 'Spotlight' is a song I wrote about making that special someone in my life feel as special as they truly are ... I want to be there to support them through the ups and downs, and make them feel like they have a million fans screaming cheering them on, even if it's just my voice echoing a million times. They are the most important person in the world and the only one in that spotlight of love and admiration, and I want them to know that.

a lot of my future is your future

Head Over Heels / Broken, Tears for Fears | Dream and George retake 'Am I In Love With My Bestfriend' Quiz, DNF Discord Podcast | Head Over Heels / Broken, Tears for Fears | Dream Team House Cooking Stream, Awesamdude VOD | The Diaries of Franz Kafka, Franz Kafka | Paranoid, Dream | to whoever wants to hear – lyric booklet, Dream | Franz Kafka Letter, Franz Kafka | Red Doc>, Anne Carson | Photograph of Dream and George during the Foodbeast's Panel at Twitchcon San Diego, @/itsjusttai_ | Dream Team Christmas – Baking Cookies, Sapnap VOD | Paranoid, Dream | Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince, Taylor Swift | Dream's Snapchats of George, @/dream | Paris, Taylor Swift | Dream breaks down his new EP track by track, Associated Press | long story short, Taylor Swift | Dream and George on set: Everest – Dream & Yung Gravy BEHIND THE SCENES, Dream Music | Dream breaks down his new EP track by track, Associated Press | Spotlight, Dream | Technoblade Charity Stream George's POV, GeorgeNotFound VOD | Dream and George during Foodbeast's Kitchen League Battle Royale at Twitchcon San Diego, Twitch VOD | October Passed Me By, girl in red | Waiting for a Star to Fall, Boy Meets Girl | Dream Team Christmas – Gingerbread Houses, GeorgeNotFound VOD | dream Tweet, @/dreamwastaken | Dream Team Christmas – Baking Cookies, Sapnap VOD | "George napping and the sun is literally beaming him square in the face" – Photograph and Tweet, @/dreamwastaken | Paranoid, Dream | Dream and George on set: Everest – Dream & Yung Gravy BEHIND THE SCENES, Dream Music | to whoever wants to hear – lyric booklet, Dream | Dream Team House Cooking Stream, Awesamdude VOD | SOMEONE MADE A DISSTRACK ABOUT ME???, GeorgeNotFound VOD | Paranoid, Dream |

[caslyra]

Wolfstar AU - Werewolf rights activist Sirius Black meets Remus 'I don't want your help, I just want some quiet' Lupin.

[bedlamsbard]

talking about SteveNat is always a bizarre experience because I probably cannot be clearer about the fact that I ship them and want them to kiss on the mouth and yet whenever a post moves out of my orbit it immediately morphs into "yeah they're such good friends, I love a brotp."

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[flowercrowngods]

i’ve decided to send an ask for each story you posted in the wip game kdnehdhs who did this to you? lives rent free in my brain 💛💛 (@a-little-unsteddie)

thank you so much 🥰🤍 still slowly working my way through the asks, so have a few more words to make up for the wait 🫶

who did this to you (pt.4) // tales of blue part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on ao3 🌷 preceding snippet no 1. | no. 2

Finally, finally, the familiar sound of Wayne‘s old truck rounding the corner into the trailer park interrupts the tense silence that seems to have fallen over all of Forest Hills tonight, and Eddie has half a mind to run out there, run toward them and get the whole story. Just to be sure that everything is fine. Just to be sure that Steve’s still… That he’s still there.

He stays right where he is, though, staring at Buckley‘s wild hair, feeling her shadow walk over him as Wayne pulls up to their driveway and stops. She is right in the centre of the headlights, but still she doesn’t move. Eddie wants to scream at her. Wants to nudge her and shove her out of the way — imagines it, imagines all the alternate universes in which he finds her wide eyes scared and unseeing as Wayne‘s voice sounds behind them, telling them that Steve didn’t make it.

Except in this one, Wayne said they’re coming home. In this one, shit like that doesn’t happen to eighteen year-old boys and their friends.

Aside from that girl. Barbara Holland.

Eddie swallows, his eyes flitting between bright lights to the silhouette of Buckley right in their centre. Like a doe, he thinks. Terrified of what she’ll find.

Don’t you wanna know? Eddie wants to ask her. Don’t you wanna see? What are you afraid of? What did you see? Who is he, Robin, and who are you? Why the fuck won’t you move?

In the end, it is the sound of a car door slamming shut that snaps Buckley out of her stupor, and she all but flies off the steps towards the truck. Towards where Eddie can vaguely make out the shape of a badly bruised face, the play of light and darkness not enough to conceal the deep purple splotches or the sluggishness of his movements as he raises his head. Turning toward Buckley like a flower to the sun.

She presses her hand to the window for a second, just looking at him — and Eddie is glad he can’t see either of their faces. He has a feeling that what he’d see there would haunt him forever.