#ao3 stranger things

[eleanorrigbyrice]

“why have you not updated any of your fics in at least a week not even the ones you promised-” listen.

i basically have had no motivation to do literally anything except build shelves.

once the shelves are done i’ll go back to writing.

hope that clears things up.

[paintedcrows]

Whenever Bill sees KingOfNJ's fics through Stan's eyes he just thinks they have the same taste in fanfiction (disgusting. unthinkable) continued

[bloodbruise]

the bitches traumatized by saltburn would never survive the fics in my ao3 history

[lesbianfanfictionenthusiast]

"you read a lot, right?"

"yes!"

"what are some books you've read recently?"

"uhh i don't remember"

[imfinereallyy]

you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

[419jhat]

I've had this plot bunny for a while. I love the idea of a fic where Eddie is super famous and Steve has no idea who he is, but they meet and fall in love.

Like, Steve's just walking down the street, super sick, trying to find a convenience store so he can find anything to save his drippy nose and stop his cough, when he gets accosted by some dude on the sidewalk with his phone out. The guy and his friend are rambling about the latest Spotify hits and Steve notices a second too late that he's being recorded and that there's a microphone in his face, so he kind of shakes himself awake and adjusts his glasses so he can see the phone.

The guy's all decked out like a rockstar with tattoos and piercings and tight leather everything, and he wants Steve's opinion. But the problem is that Steve doesn't listen to music or pay attention to famous anything, so he kind of recoils, because he realizes this random guy is trying to make him listen to his mixtape.

“Is it good?” Steve asks.

The guy’s friend kind of blinks at him and says, “I mean, it's Eddie Munson,” like that's supposed to mean something.

“Never heard of it,” Steve says with a shrug, and the rockstar starts laughing like a lunatic.

“Well, can you just listen? We're getting street reactions to the new album,” the guy says, offering him an airpod.

Steve sighs and sticks the thing in his ear and rolls his eyes when he instantly recognizes the whiney guitar solo Dustin won't stop playing every hour of the day.

He shrugs and says, “I've heard better.”

This completely shocks the guy. The rockstar takes it as a challenge to try and flirt, but Steve's too sick to catch on so he sits there bitching about Corroded Coffin on camera until he gets bored and ditches the interview halfway to go get his meds. Meanwhile, Eddie's ego is bruised but he's kind of in love. This sparks an internet manhunt desperately trying to find the handsome mystery man who caught the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin's eye, and Steve being harassed by his friends when the interview goes viral.

[jupiter-and-teardrops]

the hardest lines ALWAYS come from ao3 fanfics and I stand by this

Mostly thanks to @emilyelizabethfowl (their reblog contains many of the fic links!! thank u sm) and a few deep dives into my ao3 history, the sources of the quotes have mostly all been recovered! I apologise for not posting them all with proper credit originally, I truly didn't think the post would blow up so much, but the lesson is very much learned :) enjoy!

- number 1 is from merthur fic called Destiny Ordered You To Die, But I Willed You To Live by ironfamjam

-number 2 is from a klance fic called reach out for you (break these walls) by Paladin-Pile (UserFromPluto)

- number 3 is a batman fic called Home (jason centered) by Daisybirb

- number 4 is a zukka fic by I'm Not Angry Anymore by team_avatars_eyebags

- numbers 5 and 9 are from The Art Of Burning by hella1975, an amazing ongoing atla following zuko

- number 6 is a hualian fic called No paths are bound by cataclysmic_calamity (originally a thread fic but also fully uploaded on ao3)

- number 7 is a merthur fic called tell me every terrible thing you ever did (and let me love you anyway) by Stardustwrites17 (the quote is also originally from a poem apparently)

- number 8 is from a batman fic called Nature and Nurture by lurkinglurkerwholurks

- number 10 is from a steddie fic called let me know (everythings alright) by bexiguess

ALSO there is now a part 2 !! (which I swear is better organized)

[stevieschrodinger]

Firefighter Steve Harrington and certified hoodlum Eddie Munson. Another thing I really really want to write but I won't have time but, specifically, the scene I want to write goes thusly.

Eddie's high on his own supply and his clumsy stoned ass sets light to his own trailer. He's rescued from the, admittedly, minor fire, bridal style, by a 'shining angel'. It's not exactly a raging inferno but it's enough that Eddie's just inhaled a substantial amount of illicit materials all at once.

He's suffering with smoke inhalation but will only let the 'glowing adonis' put the oxygen mask on him and slappy fights off everyone else.

Steve ends up sitting with him because Eddie keeps trying to take the mask off and Steve keeps putting it back on, all the while Eddie's insisting that Steve is a 'constellation of perfection' and 'his angel wings glow like a rainbow' and Eddie 'didn't even know he was gay until now' which amuses Steve so thoroughly he Sharpies his number onto Eddie's forearm.

The next day Eddie wakes up in a hospital bed with no real memories of what happened, but he knows in his bones that he was visited by a mystical celestial being and the number on his arm belongs to his future husband.

[brobertdowneyjr]

I'm sifting thru fics like it’s 1848 and I'm panning for gold in the river

[eleanorrigbyrice]

hiya everyone!

this is just a cheeky post to let you all know i am alive (well is pushing it). i’ve been super busy these past few months but hopefully i will be updating all my fics soon. fingers crossed!

[bilbosmom-belladonna]

Whoops, my hand slipped and I wrote another Steddie ficlet! Also posted on AO3.

The Best Defense

“Hey, freak!”

Eddie froze, the bag of groceries clutched in his hands. Steve's head popped up from where he was putting the other bag in the trunk.

Andy Johnson was headed their way, a look on his face that made Eddie's eyes go wide.

“You got some nerve showing your face around here, freak!” Andy shouted as he approached, pointing a menacing finger.

Steve calmly plucked the bag from Eddie's nerveless fingers, dropped it in the trunk, and smoothly stepped between him and Andy.

“Back off, Johnson,” Steve said, his chin held high.

“You think I'm scared of you, Harrington?” Andy scoffed. “You ain't shit, pretty boy. Daddy's money can't protect you here.”

He glanced over his shoulder, where Eddie could see a group of varsity jackets starting to move closer. Eddie shrank back a little, wishing he could be anywhere else.

Steve cocked his head to the side, just watching for a minute as Andy puffed. Then he reached into the trunk, pulled out his nailbat, and slung it casually against his shoulder.

“Don't think I'll use Daddy's money,” Steve said with a shrug. He dropped the bat into his other hand and twirled it. “Think I'll use this instead.”

Andy blanched. His eyes nervously darted between the bat and Steve. Eddie could see there was still a little bit of dried monster blood on the nails.

For once in his life, Andy did the smart thing. He started backing away, huffing like Steve was the one being ridiculous, but guys like that always want to get the last word.

“Yeah, well, you better keep an eye on your rat-faced little boyfriend, Harrington,” he threatened. “You can't defend him forever.” He backed up a few more steps before he quickly returned to his friends.

Steve turned and looked at Eddie, an affronted look on his face. “Can you believe that guy?”

Eddie winced. “Hey, man, thanks,” he said weakly. “I'm sorry about that.”

“Nah, forget him,” Steve said as he closed the trunk, the nailbat still in one hand. He shook his head. “I just don't get why he would say something like that about you.”

Eddie grimaced, all too aware of the (entirely true) rumors about his sexuality. He didn't want something like that coming down on Steve; he was a good guy, he didn't deserve to get any more tangled up in Eddie's mess than he already was.

“I mean, what the hell was that about?” Steve continued indignantly. “You are not rat-faced.” He scoffed.

Eddie blinked for a minute. “You—” he licked his lips. “What—Steve, what about the other—”

Steve opened his door and sat down.

“I—he called me your—” Eddie stammered. He stood stupidly by the trunk, shoes stuck to the pavement.

Steve closed his door and beeped the horn.

“What—”

“Get in, Munson!” Steve called, leaning out the window with a grin. “The ice cream’s gonna melt.”

Eddie got in. He looked nervously at Steve and licked his lips again.

“Seatbelt,” Steve prompted as he checked his mirrors. He turned to face Eddie as soon as his seatbelt was buckled. Eddie looked back at him

“We'll drop this stuff off with Wayne,” Steve said, “and then I'm taking you out to dinner. My treat.” He reached out and ran his thumb over Eddie's cheek, then turned back to start the car. “Rat-faced,” he muttered disdainfully under his breath as they pulled out of the parking lot.

If you held a gun to his head later, Eddie would never be able to tell you a single thing about the rest of that drive.

[timote-shalome]

Me: *watching Stranger Things S5 Ep 1*

“Like, what do you mean Steve isn’t a bisexual hurt bbygirl with meanie parents and doesn’t have game nights with the kids in his big empty house and doesn’t have sleepovers with Robin and he isn’t in love with Eddie who came back from the dead as part monster with a split personality that’s also in love with Steve?!?!?!?!”

Me: *turns off TV*

[bloodbruise]

dw spotify and ao3 have my mental health on lock

[shinpikurage]

I don't even read fanfics anymore, I just read the tags and synopsis like it's morning paper

[greatunironic]

eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

[wandixx]

I've seen a lot of different takes on Fear Toxin/other fear causing stuff (Yellow Lanterns Ring or something)(later just called Fear Toxin cause I'm lazy) but here is another one.

Danny seems like he isn't affected by Fear Toxin because his biggest fear is that his accident changed him so much he is no longer human, he can no longer truly experience human things.

So when he gets lungful of fear Toxin, he feels normal. He was antsy before, because c'mon, it's a rogue attack but it's not worse. Or so he thought. Because the anxiety lingers. Not enough to register as abnormal just this slight hypervigilance that makes you see things about yourself and your surroundings that you'd never realize otherwise. He'd realize he doesn't blink as often. He'd realize that if he doesn't consciously focus, he sometimes seems to not touch the ground. Forgets to breathe. He can't feel his own pulse at time. He'd realize people will miss him when he's walking down the street as if he was invisible (people just don't care about everyone they pass by). When he'd look straight into his reflection, he'd look slightly to the left. Not enough to actually name anything that was wrong but just stretched enough to fall on the wrong side of the uncanny valley. If he just caught his reflection in the peripheral vision, it'd be vaguely shadowy creature with glowing green eyes and white smoke instead of hair. Overall he'd be just wrong enough to be distinctly not human.

For everyone else, he'd be just a dude. Literally couldn't find more normal dude than this dude. Will pass as absolutely normal human unless someone is specifically looking for ecto-ghost stuff. Even most magic users wouldn't clock him at the glance

Tldr: Fear Toxin makes Danny perceive himself as some sort of eldritch horror but not enough to make him believe he'd actually be affected, while from outside perspective he's Just A Dude™