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teejaystumbles · 2 months

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Against all odds (a dreamling drabble)

(a 1989 comics AU where Dream does not go meet Hob despite being free)

Dream stares at the sleeping form of Hob Gadling and feels guilty.

He hadn’t gone to their centennial meeting. Despite having escaped Burgess’ cage and having recovered his tools, Dream has not met Hob at their appointed date at the White Horse.

He knows Hob waited for him. Waited until the day had gone and turned to night, after the clock had struck midnight and announced their date over. Dream knows this because he had stood, watching, for as long as the man waited inside the White Horse Inn.

He is not proud of this.

If he examines his reasons for not entering the Inn, keeping watch from the other side of the street instead, he draws a blank.

Dream does not know why he did not go inside, he knows he froze at the sight of the closed door, the cramped space indoors he could see through the glass (glass, why so much glass everywhere). He had stepped back and waited for his unease to lift, and when that did not happen he had waited for Hob to leave so Dream might meet him outside, but the man did not leave the Inn until the owner practically threw him out on the street, long after midnight. Dream had stepped forward then, only to watch his old acquaintance break down against the building wall and sob.

Why did Dream not go to him then? Why did he step back into the shadows and watch Hob drag himself up to his feet with a whimper and stumble down the street, hand trailing the wall for support. The only answer Dream can come up with is a supremely uncomfortable one.

He is a coward.

When it comes to relationships, Dream’s track record is disastrous, a fact that he is very aware of. He left Hob in 1889 with cutting words and no promise to return. Hob should by rights be angry at Dream, should be less trusting that he would show. But still the man waited for him at their next appointment, as if he had known Dream’s words to be products of his rage and not vows he would keep. Even if he doesn’t know it, Hob was right to expect Dream to not simply terminate their arrangement. Because here Dream stands, at the foot of Hob’s bed, watching the man sleep, too scared of a smug ‘I-knew-you’d-see-sense’ to dare approach him while awake.

Hob had slowly made his way home, unaware of Dream following him, drawn to him like there was a string tying them to each other. By then Dream felt like the point where he could make himself known had passed, but he hadn’t been able to leave. He kept trailing after Hob, into his small two-room apartment; had watched him shed only his shoes and then stood in the shadows of his curtains while Hob took out a small leather-bound book and pen and started to write. Dream had felt like a ghost, a nightmare watcher haunting his victim. He had carefully reigned in any stray trickles of his power to not make himself known or Hob uncomfortable in his invisible presence. After a few minutes Hob had stopped writing and sighed. Then he wiped his hands over his face tiredly and went to bed, not bothering to get out of his clothes.

Dream stands beside the table with the book now. The pages are still open. His eyes seek out the words unbidden, unable to resist the pull of the written word. He knows he is breaking a lot of taboos this evening. He is invading his friend’s privacy most thoroughly. The knowledge does not stop him from reading what Hob has written.

June 7th 8th, 1989

He didn’t come. The bastard really didn’t come. I can’t believe it. I was so sure he would show. That he was just angry, prideful and stubborn as he is, but surely a hundred years would be long enough to calm down?

Apparently they weren’t. I sat there, at our table at the White Horse, drinking one whiskey after the other, waiting like an idiot until they threw me out, and he didn’t show.

Do you even remember me? Or did you cut me from your memory, like you promised to cut all our ties, the night you left me standing in the rain? Have I left any impact at all on your immortal life that is probably much longer than my own? Surely it must be obvious to you that you have impacted my life more than anyone else. You are the only one who knows me, who knows Hob Gadling, the rough, foolish mercenary who bragged about never dying. Who raised himself from the dirt of the poor just to fall back down again, deeper than ever before. Rise and fall, and rise again only to be put in my place by you again - and rightfully so.

In 1889 I had finally managed to find some middle ground, feeling safe enough to finally be honest with you - at least partially. And it all blew up in my face.

I should have known, really. Your relaxed smiles for the last centuries were too good to be true. I shouldn’t have trusted my gut and spilled some of the beans. But it had been lonely the last few decades and I thought we had reached an understanding. I thought I knew you, if not as well as you have to know me by now, but enough to take that leap of faith.

I leapt. And you let me fall I fell again. I should be used to it by now, one might think. But when it’s you nothing is simple and the stakes are so much higher.Do you know what you mean to me? Your name is written on a wall inside my heart and I don’t think that any amount of alcohol can wash it away. And I don’t even know it. I don’t know your name but it’s in there, and it’s not coming off. I know. I tried. Although it hurts that you stood me up, I believe that you’ll come back to meet me one day. I will believe in you, no matter what. I have to, for there is no other constant in my life but you. I have to hope.

‘You’re the only one who really knew me at all, and you coming back to me is against all odds, but it’s a chance I’ve got to take’, like Phil says.

Dream does not know who Phil is, but a quick glance at the general human subconscious reveals the quoted words as part of a song by an artist Hob seems to be referring to. Dream perceives the song’s lyrics and its general feeling and swallows heavily. It appears to be an apt choice for Hob’s current emotional state. He reads the last few words while the notes of the song linger in his mind.

So I’ll be here when you’re ready. I hope you know how to find me when they inevitably tear the old place down, but I guess you do. I hope so. I really hope so. I just want to know that you’re okay. I need to know that I’m not alone. There are others like me, I’ve met some. But it’s not the same. No one is like you. No one is as

Please come back

The words cut off abruptly, Hob having clearly been too tired to write more. Dream’s newly reclaimed powers put everything in much sharper relief. Shutting off the flow of emotions from the subconscious comes both easier and harder somehow. Pulling himself back into this singular humanoid shape at Hob’s bedside takes a particular effort he had forgotten since he furnished his ruby. It is not hard, but a task he has to accustom himself to again. Dream pauses for several minutes, quite literally collecting himself, unsure of his next actions.

He looks at Hob again. His face is slack in his sleep, relaxed and calm. Dream only glances at Hob’s dreams to ascertain if they are calm or troubled but finds nothing too upsetting. He does not want to intrude further than he already has so he keeps himself from viewing his friend’s dreams.

His friend. Friend. The word that had sent Dream running in affront a century ago. Despite himself, struck by a sudden urge to talk to Hob, Dream inhales sharply and silently sits down on the chair in front of the open notebook. He carefully picks up the pen and sets it to the empty paper below Hob’s own words.

My friend.

I apologise for missing our meeting

I owe you more than one apology. You were correct in your assessment the last time we met. I was am lonely. With one word you dismantled my defences and left me too vulnerable to bear at the time. I was rude to you, and I regretted my words as soon as I had left you. However, as you well know, I am a prideful, stubborn being. Strange, to be able to admit it so easily now. I’ve always known it, and you’re not the first to call me out on it, but of course I would never have allowed anyone who talked to me like that to speak to me again. So I told you I’d leave you, not able to accept that you were, ARE, my friend.

And that I need you, like you need me

I have not forgotten you, Hob Gadling. I do not forget anyone. You are cradled in the vastness of my being like every other mind, your story preserved for all time. This, of course, you cannot know, as I have never introduced myself to you. Again, something I’d like to apologise for. I will, however, endeavour to give you my name in person, and soon.

I would have done so today yesterday, but. For some reason I cannot name I felt unable to approach you or enter our usual meeting place. I know you waited and I am deeply sorry for troubling you.

You have indeed made an impact on my life. Maybe not in the same way I did on yours, but nonetheless our meetings have become something I look forward to. You surely wonder why I never told you who I am. I was not able to admit it a hundred years ago, but to meet you, who knows nothing of my role and my duties, is freeing in a way nothing else is in my existence. You look upon me as your friend, and nothing else. You cannot imagine how much I enjoy the time spent in your presence, listening to your accounts of the last century.

I could not

I was unable to experience much of human history over the last century. This has left me with a certain uneasiness in regards to humanity. I would humbly ask for your patience, once again. As I am trying to gather the courage find the time to gather the courage to meet you in person. Perhaps this book can provide a form of communication, for the time being.

Sincerely, your old friend

Dream drops the pen like it’s burning his fingers and rises swiftly, stepping back from the table and notebook before he can rip out the page he has written in a fit of panic. He has revealed far more than he intended to but it is only fair to leave Hob these words, after what he has put him through.

Dream allows himself one last look at Hob, still sleeping peacefully, before returning back to the Dreaming. There is much to think about. His reluctance to interact with humanity cannot stand if he is to perform his function. Walking with Death has helped him put things in perspective again but he still fears. What? What does he have to fear? He has no need for humans liking him. As he examines his feelings and his earlier short interactions with humans on his way to the White Horse, Dream realises that he does not care about all humans. He only cares about how Hob perceives him.

Perhaps knowing that he had to introduce himself this time, clearly owing it to his friend, Dream had been afraid of losing Hob’s easy camaraderie. Surely exposing himself as Endless will have a pruning effect on Hob’s relaxed and friendly demeanour. Dream does not want that. But perhaps… No. He will wait for Hob’s reply in his notebook, if it comes. Should he choose to answer Dream, he will then decide how to proceed further. Surely any speculation right now is fruitless.

Trying to put the matter out of his mind for now, Dream goes to resume his work. He is aware enough to know that fear of Hob’s reaction was not the only reason he didn’t enter the White Horse. He needs to work through some things. Perhaps some new nightmares made of planes of suffocating glass will help him put some things behind him.

[Spoiler: of course they won’t, oh honey 🥺]

Part 2

#my friends and I used to write to each other in notebooks and exchange it back and forth #(that was before mobile phones so it was the ancient way of texting your bff the random shit you think of at night)#I will probably write more for this #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #teejay writes #1989 au

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wsbhonni · 1 year

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I've always headcanoned Arkin to be like late thirties-early forties in the Collector series. And we know Asa himself is in his 40s (in universe anyway).

So anyways that's just a long winded way of me saying: Arkin and Asa being young men in the late eighties and meeting each other.

Arkin, a crust punk who scrapes by doing odd jobs (and freelance photography because Arkin 100% owns an old Polaroid).

Asa, a stressed out (seemingly) straight-edge college student, who is desperately trying to get into grad school.

Have some sketches too!

#collectkin #you know how it is lmao #i might call this au #1989 au #god my brainworms are the only things keeping me afloat anymore.#and their names are #arkin O'Brien #asa emory #the collector (2009)#slashers #slasher au #my art #sketchy scratches

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spicysummer22 · 9 months

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this is canon

#taylor swift #taylor swift eras #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marichat #miraculous adrien #miraculous au #miraculous fanart #miraculous fandom #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanworks #miraculous s5 #taylor swift 1989 #1989 taylor's version #speak now #speak now taylor’s version

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lucylucius · 9 months

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1989 (reylo version) 🩵🕊️

#my art #reylo #this is just an edit of my older drawing #can't wait for 1989 taylor's version!!#reylo fanart #reylo AU #1989 polaroid

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mikeluciraphgabe · 6 months

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JASON IS A SWIFTIE AND ILL DIE ON THIS HILL

Part 12 master-post

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rosekillerbf · 6 months

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regulus “secretly a swiftie” black x james “loudly and obsessively a swiftie” potter

#marauders #the marauders #marauders era #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #they mean so much to me #so where’s my secretly a swiftie bf hm??? when is it my turn #these bitches gay #this is in a MODERN au okay i’m not stupid #buttt if anyone’s music can time travel #its probably taylor’s #regulus loves folklore + reputation #james loves 1989 + lover #marauders headcanon #jegulus headcanon #marauders fandom

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walking-dead-girrl · 3 months

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ignorethe shitty anatomy this is a doodle i was bored (this is at the remington party!!)

#tried to paint it but color theory was on my ASS #why do i choose this as a background color #heathers #heathers musical #heathers 1989 #chansaw #veronica sawyer #heather chandler #heathers au #wlw art #artists on tumblr #drawingdeadgirl

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shipsnthenight · 6 months

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No one: "How much of your time are you willing to invest to work on something that, if someone had made it for your fandom when you were 15, you would still be on the floor crying 15 years later?" Me: "Yes."

---

She had no right, guys. Taylor had no fucking right. Not in the exact moment when my brain was playing around with Modern Day AUs for Cait and Vi. Don't think I've ever worked this hard on a fandom project.

And just so you know, this is NOT the end. Actually... it's just the initial concept. More things will come but in due time, the other half of my brain and I are on it.

#arcane #arcane au #caitvi #piltoversfinest #piltover's finest #caitvi fanart #caitvi fanfiction #taylor swift 1989 #taylor swift #yes those are actually photos of the eras tour #what do you want from me im committed but i will NOT draw you a whole stadium #vicait #violyn #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #arcane league of legends

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trancylovecraft · 3 months

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Headcanons for Yandere JD from Heathers the musical?

(HEATHERS) YANDERE! JD x READER: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: Damn, If it wasn't for my girl Yuno then this bastard would be the poster boy of the yandere trope. tHIS SHITS CANON. FANDOM: Heathers the Musical

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

Okay, JD, This maniac.

I headcannon JD to be an Obsessive, Possessive, Violent and perhaps even a bit Manipulative and Delusional.

Obsessive in the way that its.. Well, It's JD! After a life of moving from place to place after his mothers death, He's become lonely. So when you come into his life, Willing to cure that ailment, JD is instantly all over you. He's not really obsessive about you, But the idea of you if that makes sense.

Possessive in the way that it ties into the last point, You're his only source of social interaction. You're his only friend and JD is not going to let anyone take you from him. You're HIS, Not anyone elses.

Violent in the way that JD get's absolutely livid if you do try to leave him. I mean, He tried to blow up westerburg for fucks sake! He's unstable and will get real volatile if you do try to get away.

Manipulative in the way that JD plays to your emotions. He'll make you feel guilty over the people he's killed, He'll make you feel like shit for trying to leave. Perhaps he'll even get you to assist in these murders, JD loves you but you must understand that this is just how he shows his love!

And Delusional in the way he believes that the entire world is against him, That it's all evil. But not you, You're an angel! You're the good in-between all the dirt, That's why he loves you so much! You can do no wrong in his eyes, Even if you do get a little bit confused sometimes..

I can see JD falling in love with you in a few ways.

The first is where you're an outcast like him, A social loner who doesn't really have anyone to talk to at break times. You're nice but you're quiet, Keeping to yourself.

I can see JD latching onto you after a single interaction. Maybe he drops something and you pick it up for him, Maybe you lend him a pen during class. Either way, It's the single domino to the catastrophe that will come later.

The second way is where you're popular, Really popular. So much so that you're part of the Heathers. Maybe you and Chandler have a history and that's why you're with them, But either way you follow beside her as one of the queen bee's in school.

But you're not mean, You're kind. Maybe you welcome JD into the school once he joins, Maybe you just say hello to him in the halls everyday. And this is enough for him, He becomes infatuated with you.

I'm going to go with the second option.

So you're a heather, You go to parties, You date, You do all the stuff a heather is expected to do. But it's not your style, You're only with them because Chandler was your friend growing up and you were hot enough to stay with her in the group.

But you make do. You're nice to everyone you meet, That's more your speed. You lead the student council, You organise school events and you make sure everyone has a good-time.

It's a good change of pace from all the stuff that comes with The Heathers. You have a decent life and it's future is looking pretty bright, With your good grades and status as the student council leader, You're destined to get into a good college.

Until JD turns up at the school.

It's pretty rare to get a student show up half-way through the year, And it'd be a pretty stressful time too. So you make sure to search him out and welcome him in here with open arms, You would've wanted that if you were in his scenario at least.

So you search him out, Helps that you and him share a class together. And before the bell rings, You find him early in his seat just getting ready for class.

And you walk up to him despite his rather cold demeanour, You introduce yourself to JD anyways and ask him how his first day was.

And JD is shocked.

Someone as pretty and popular like you greeting him? And in such a kind way? JD is at a loss for words, He's not usually welcomed with such warmth on account of his "bad-boy demeanour" and tendency to avoid crowds.

So when you welcome him to the school, Ask him how he's settling in. JD can't help but answer with a witty remark as an instant way to try strike up conversation.

And even though it doesn't last long due to the bell ringing and you needing to sit down and do your work, JD certainly can't take his mind or his eyes off of you. Looking at you more than the work in front of him.

He's the kind of yandere that gets interested fast, Not needing a second interaction to spike his interest. JD can already tell that you're perfect, An angel in your own right. He doesn't need any more confirmation.

Afterwards, Yeah, He's hooked!

After that, JD starts to follow you around just far enough so that you don't notice him. In school or out of it, He's just got to know more.

He eventually learns where you live after he follows you home one day. He learns what you like, Who your friends are. Your favourite flavour, If you have any pets or whether you drink coffee or tea.

Its all so perfect to him.

You start to find little gifts in your locker, Maybe a box of your favourite treats or even a flower that you're particularly fond of.

You of course, Being a heather means that you get a lot of attention from both guys and gals so receiving these things in your locker is not uncommon. Therefore you just go about your day, Maybe eating the treats of placing the flower in a pot.

JD begins to get violent, His tendencies starting to kick up. Anyone else that tries to ask you out, Anyone that you may sleep with, Anyone that you even just talk to gets a beat-down from the man himself.

I mean, How dare they try touch you? JD is by no means deserving of you and he knows it, But that doesn't mean everyone else is entitled either.

JD certainly tries to hang out in spots where you usually go just for the chance of seeing you, To maybe start another conversation with you.

By now you've definetly heard of what JD's been doing. Beating people up, The rumours spreading around about him. It freaks you out, Especially since a lot of the victims were your friends.

So you avoid him, Not wanting to anger him.

You know that JD is probably troubled. He's outcast with low social skills, He's joined the school half-way during the year and he's violent. You've heard the type and realise he probably has some home issues.

But you're not an adult, You're not professionally trained. You're just trying to get through high school, So you have no way to help him. It's not like you could get him any help, Westerberg is not known for it's counselling and you're not his friend so you don't think it's right of you to find him some.

JD for one, Is irked.

He doesn't deserve you in the slightest. Among the filth, The cruelty and the evil of the world you are the angel above them. JD is no better than everyone else, But he's certainly trying his best to get your attention.

He knows he'd be good for you, He knows he'd be the only one who'd be able to keep you away from all the dirt.

JD just wished you'd listen.

So he's gonna make sure you hear him now.

It's a completely normal morning, One day when you walk into school you're instantly bombarded with the news of a body being found in the ditch by the school.

You're horrified as you learn it to be one of the people you talk to often, Sometimes before and after class and within the hallways.

Its even worse to know that the body was mangled so viciously that the police suspected that it was a wild animal like a cougar that got to him, All before figuring out that it was a murder.

More victims pop up over the next few days, More and more bodies pile up. You're terrified, Horrified as they all were people you very much knew.

The next few weeks are tense and distrustful amongst the student body. You as the student council leader should know, As the majority of your school events have been closed due to safety reasons.

Somehow the school has been kept open despite all the victims being apart of their student body. Something about education reasons, You remember one of your teachers saying something about being too far into the school year.

People don't walk alone in the halls, Everyone looks behind their back. Everyone is suspicious of everyone, Mostly because nobody knows if the culprit is one of them.

Parties have started to die down. Not the crazy blow-out ones that you and the rest of the heathers go to, No, The people hosting them are too stupid to do so. But the ones with more common sense decide to just stop until all of this is over.

More and more bodies start to appear, One per week was the current rate. There have even been bets in your school to see who would be next, People rounding up the money. Its disgusting, It horrifies you.

Students have been instructed to walk home in groups. You comply as you walk home with Duke, Chandler and McNamara. You wanna stay safe, You wanna make sure you and your friends get home safe.

All until one day you enter your room, Greeting your parents at the door and going upstairs to your quarters. You only see that your bedroom window is cracked open before you hear the scream of a door slamming shut.

You near get whiplash from looking around so quick, Eyes widening as you stare dead at the face of JD standing in your room Blocking the door.

You can barely scream before he is on you, A hand covering your mouth while another snakes around your waist to form a twisted mockery of a lovers hold. All the while he tells you "It's just him!" "It's gonna be fine."

It certainly will not. Keep in mind the only interaction you two had was months ago, The rest was him beating the shit out of your friends. So you're horrified when he talks to like he knows you..

Thats when the realisation hits you.

You instantly start kicking and screaming in a desperate attempt to get out of his hold. JD tries to calm you but you do not listen anymore, He is the murderer that was terrorising your town.

Once you bite his hand and it relents, You beg for him not to kill you. You cry and scream for your parents, For him to let you go, For you to live!

JD doesn't understand why you're struggling so much, He knows he's not worthy to even touch you but he shouldn't be viewed like this! He should be your knight in shining armour.

JD knows that the people surrounding you have made you like this, Which is why he grabs the nearest blunt object, A lampshade, And bashes it over your head.

You instantly fall unconcious, If not too woozy to know what the hell is going on. JD catches you before you fall to the ground, Almost seeing it as a romantic gesture.

By now the commotion has alerted your parents, So JD throws you over his shoulder and makes his way back out through the window. Neither of you seen, No witnesses found.

This starts the domestic stage.

You wake up within an abandoned cellar. Its dark, Dusty, Cold and grotty. Spiders being common, Other invertebrates even more so.

The only things in there consist of debree, A makeshift bed of old blankets, A small box containg your belongings (And ones you dont remember keeping) and spiderwebs.

You try to get out but the old trapdoor keeping you in was in suprisingly good condition, And you had no tools to help break it down.

Its only hours after you've given up trying to break down the door, Huddled in the corner with your old dirty clothing does he finally appear.

You found out that he's keeping you in some old abandoned building outside of town that he so happened to have the key for. JD tells you that its not permanent, That he'll take you back once you've realised how shoddy the world is.

You of course, Are strong-minded and refuse to play in. But you can't fight back, Can't escape so all you can do is bide your time..

JD still goes to school to avoid suspicion, Making sure that nothing leads back to him. The outside world has deemed you a body they've yet to find.

When he comes home he always brings you your food and sometimes he brings you a gift too (Something that may help you escape). He also brings you a bunch of spare clothes too.

You're unable to shower since there is no running water anywhere, Your only source of hydration being the pack of water bottles JD brought for you.

JD only comes to see you before and after school, Him going home to sleep and him being in school are the only times he's away from you.

Whenever he is with you though, He keeps rambling on and on about his own plans. How horrid the world is but how amazing you were, Almost worshipping.

He also likes for you to give him physical affection, Him laying his head on your lap is a big thing for him. He'll force you to accept it too, Despite profusely apologising the entire time.

If the topic of another man or woman you particularly like comes into play, JD will instantly darken and get violent. He doesn't like it when you bring up someone other than him, You're his angel, Not theirs.

JD is unstable and might even strike you across the face for this, Not in control of his own actions. But straight afterwards once he sees you crying on the floor in pain. He instantly goes into hundreds and hundreds of apologies, So very sorry for harming you.

He won't forgive himself either, How dare he lay a hand on you?

If you do ever give into him fully then you will be let out of the basement. JD will forge a plan that would make it seem that you were held hostage/attacked, Lost and dazed (Depending on how long you were in there). Westerberg's police, Being underfunded as they are will not look into it.

You'd probably get back to school with a shit-ton of empathy and the man who found you, Now boyfriend, Hanging on your arm with a triumphant grin.

The only way I see you escaping this is to do what Veronica should've done and drive the fuck over to Seattle, Change your name and general appearance and never show your face in Sherwood again.

However if JD does catch you then its going to be messy. This man's violent tendencies will go on overdrive, He'll scream, Cry and may even kill you out of sheer unstable anger.

Of course if he does, He'd never forgive himself. So much so that he'd feel like joining you..

Overall he's JD. Yandere posterboy. Good luck with him!

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aminetko · 6 months

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And at every table, I’ll save you a seat, lover💞

#I love elsamaren modern versions so much #modern elsamaren #modern au #modern elsamaren such lover and 1989 coded #frozen #frozen 2 #Elsa #elsa x honeymaren #honeymaren #gays gays

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blueikeproductions · 8 months

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An incorrect quote from @heathers-incorrect-quotes I thought would be funny to draw for Heathers Day.

#heathers au #heathers the musical #blueike productions #blueike #heathers #heathers 1989 #heathers movie #heather duke #heather chandler #heathers oc #heathers musical #heathers incorrect quotes #incorrect heathers quotes #heathers day #heathers fanart

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teejaystumbles · 2 months

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Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend!

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it.

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again!

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

#telling myself that last bit all the time #just sit down and write and some words will come #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #1989 au #teejay writes

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affinitystoryblog · 13 days

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Everett and Csilla as Veronica sawyer and J.d. from Heathers 🖤💙👉👈

I worship you I'd trade my life for yours

#ocs #original characters #heathers #heathers au #heathers 1989 #au #doodle #artists on tumblr #small artist #my art #everett p whisterine #csilla beauchene #everett/csilla

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spicysummer22 · 9 months

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alright. here goes my rant about Marinette being a Taylor Swift fan, I need to get this out.

She’s been a swiftie since she was a child, the first album she had on vinyl being Speak Now. She listens to folklore and evermore when doing designs because they help her creativity flow, but she’s been a Speak Now girly since that first vinyl.

She can’t bear listening to her super sad songs, so her playlist made up of her most lovey-dovey ones (you know she has a whole playlist dedicated to Adrien)

She opens Message In a Bottle on full volume and dances around her room, thinking of the blonde. (One time Chat Noir walked in on her and she was SUPER embarrassed)

But when she found out that Adrien had a crush on someone else, she listened to Haunted ON REPEAT FOR A WEEK.

After she got together with Adrien in s5, he listened to lost of TS with her and slowly became a fan. His favorite album is Midnights. And you KNOW his favorite song is Karma. (is a cat, purring in my lap)

OH AND!! He bought tickets to the Eras Tour when the Paris shows were announced. She was SO happy and almost cried in his arms.

She immediately got to work on preparing their outfits (matching, of course) She didn’t stop. She made multiple options. And yeah, I will be drawing them in their Eras Tour outfits (I HAVE TO.)

BONUS: One time during Chat’s and Ladybug’s night patrols, he randomly started singing the chorus to Karma and she was like “HUH??? YOU KNOW TAYLOR SWIFT??” and he was like “Yeah! My girlfriend got me into it.” 🥹🥹

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k4l3idosc0pe · 6 months

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FNAF MOVIE SPOILERS!

The FNaF movie springlocks are completely different than anything we have seen in the games.

The only visuals of springlocks we have ever seen were in the "Silver Eyes" graphic novel. In the novel, the springlocks look similar to the movie, which means that in both visual adaptations of springlock suits, Scott Cawthon has gone with the clawlike design. This could possibly be Scott Cawthon telling us that this is the design he had in mind when making the games/writing "The Silver Eyes" Trilogy.

Ignoring the large metal rod going through the middle there are many unsafe design choices, such as, the fact that there are actual claws in the suit. What purpose would claws have in holding back animatronic parts? This leads me to my theory, what if the springlock suits, (In the movie canon) are intended to fail? William Afton possibly meant for the springlock suits to be worn by untrained employees and fail, thus causing remnant to be extracted, like a less advanced version of the remnat extractor from the beginning of the movie.

Another point worth noting is that the springlock suit in the movie looks very similar to Ella in "The Silver Eyes", Eleanor in the "Fazbear's Frights" books, and possibly a prototype of Circus Baby. This would reinforce my theory that the springlock suits are meant to fail because Circus Baby and all the other Funtime animatronics are meant to kill.

Edit: This theory was written the second I finished the movie. Since then I have gotten a lot more evidence towards this theory from reviewing the movie's content. Such as this image.

At first, I just thought "Hey what a cool Easter egg!" Which it might be, but I have some theories. What if the Sparky the Dog costume is the movie variant of one of the mediocre melodies? Or it could possibly be the same case as Carlton in "The Silver Eyes" or the costumes in the saferoom in the fangame "DSaF 1". The other two suits with bodies in them are probably the same as what would have happened to Carleton if Charlie did not save him.

William Afton is a notorious CHILD murderer, so why are there adults in the suits? The suits may be springlock suits, and he may have kidnapped them so that he could extract remnant for his experiments

The purple animatronic is very odd because that shade specifically is familiar. Most people think William Afton whenever they see purple in FNaF, but this animatronic is very reminiscent of Shadow Freddy. The only thing wrong with this theory is the widely believed theory that Shadow Freddy is caused by Agony or Shadow Remnant, but nothing outright confirms that in the games Shadow Freddy is not a physical animatronic like the other ones. -10/29/23

#fnaf memes #fnaf theory #fnaf art #fivenightsatfreddysfanart #fnaf fandom #five nights at freddys #fnaf au #1989 taylor's version #fnaf fanart #fnaf

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leoleolovesdc · 6 months

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Anyone wanna listen abt my cowboy heathers au?? No? Okay then, I’ll talk abt it anyways

Heather Duke is in a gang-ish cowboy thing with the other Heathers. They scam people, rob banks and just generally do whatever the please as long as they get money out of it, but as Chandler always seems to find a way to get a bigger percentage of the gains than her and McNamara, this makes Duke grow bitter, so much so that she tries to get ahead and ends up stealing some money from Chandler (and by some I mean a LOT). Chandler finds out and obviously isn’t very happy about it, so now Duke’s on the run, trying to get as far away from them as possible, knowing that if McNamara, Chandler or any of their other goons catch her she’ll be a dead woman.

After days and nights of travelling through the country, Duke goes to a farm and pays the owners so they’ll let her stay for a few nights, rest and hopefully help the Heathers lose track of her, but that doesn’t work very well. Duke hears news that her former mates are on the town and packs her things to leave as soon as possible, but just as she’s about to go she finds a woman hidden in the farm. She doesn’t seem to know how to speak english and is clearly wary about Duke and her intentions, though she doesn’t seem to be much of a talker (especially in a language she doesn’t understand) she manages to tell Duke her name; Veronica.

The owners of the farm find the girls trying to interact and kick Duke out. She pretends to leave but comes back in the middle of the night to find the girl again, she finds out that the owners of the farm are basically forcing Veronica to work for them as payment for protection as she’s being chased by the mafia from her home country. Apparently Heather isn’t the only one who thinks she’s too good to resist the challenge of stealing from people she shouldn’t.

Duke breaks in the farm to free the girl and they get into a huge fight with the farmers. After a lot of bang-bang, she and Veronica manage to knock out one of the men, hop on Duke’s horse and run away.

The rest of the story follows them running away from both Heather and Veronica’s demons while at the same time learning how to speak and relate to each other. Heather eventually buys a dictionary to help her understand Veronica, and both get slowly better at communicating. With time what was one impulsive act coming out of some sort of white-knight complex of Duke’s becomes a genuine partnership, if not something more.

Veronica doesn’t plan on staying, though. Heather wants a peaceful life, she wants everything to settle down so she can finally get some rest, the only thing she ever wanted. Veronica on the other hand, lives for the thrill. She likes the adrenaline rush of stealing, having to run away, the feeling of having to free herself from the problems she had purposefully ran into.

She doesn’t want to stay forever. She won’t stay forever. But as long as Duke has a reason to run, Veronica will be running by her side.

After a especially violent encounter with the Heathers, Duke finds herself cornered by McNamara, who has a gun in her hand and is a movement away from blowing her former best friend’s brains out. Duke accepts her fate, she asks Mac for forgivness, says she regrets messing everything up and that she wishes it could have been different.

Duke closes her eyes. McNamara’s finger tightens around the trigger, but nothing happens. She can’t pull the trigger. She can’t do that. Not to Duke. Not to the only person she’s ever cherished and trusted as much a Heather Chandler. She lets her go.

After a long while without seeing the Heathers, they eventually come back. Chandler asks Duke to join them back. She says McNamara has made her see things through another angle and she’s willing to forgive her past mistakes and foolishness. Duke wants to go. She really does, but that’s when she remembers Veronica. She can’t leave Veronica all by herself when she’s being chased by half of the world. She refuses to come back. She says that’s the first time she’s ever had something she feels it’s worth caring for. She has a purpose when she’s with Veronica, she has someone to care for. Chandler stares at her coldly and leaves without another word. McNamara follows. She doesn’t seem to be just mindlessly going after Heather this time.

Veronica asks Duke why she didn’t come back with them. She had been offered forgiveness, she should have been ecstatically following Chandler back home like a puppy. Heather says that she couldn’t go because she’d never forgive herself for leaving. She knows that it wouldn’t be far to leave her friend behind. Veronica wouldn’t abandon her either.

Except that she would.

Everything Veronica ever wanted was a life like the one the Heathers lived. Free of rules, of judgement, just doing as she pleases. Running, but with a purpose, with people who share a similar goal. With a place to stay, cozy houses, people to sit and have dinner with, all of that without needing to ever give up the thrill she so desperately longed for. Veronica would have left anything, anyone for that.

Duke was stupid.

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