#found this in my drafts today

[forever-found-in-daydreams]

This. When Wendy cried like this, I felt it so deep down in my soul that I could barely breathe. Just watching her cry felt so visceral. Because that’s always been me.

It always feels like this is how I end up. Everyone’s always okay but me. How many times have I cried this violently as I missed out? Whether I ruined everyone else’s fun, or had to watch them go off to have fun without me… I’ve felt it all. Every time, I’m the one who has to stay home.

I don’t know if everyone else is always fine, or if they’re really good at masking their own problems, but it’s always mine that fuck me every time.

It can be an oddly specific event, and my body will find an even more oddly specific sickness to make sure I can’t do just that.

It sucks.

So that’s why when I saw Wendy cry like this, as she knew her friends were participating in the grand magic games without her, it felt no different than as if it was me laying in that bed.

[canonical-transformation]

Thanks! Credit where credit is due, this outline borrows heavily from Dramatica: a New Theory of Story by Phillips and Huntley (web edition) — a book on "story weaving" that I'm fond of despite its flaws. (It's a really nice generative account of how themes interweave within a story, but it suffers from trying too hard to be a theory of Every Story Ever.) Their ideas about "Main Character Throughline" involve a particular kind of tension around whether or not a character will change.

(May 2024:) Stumbled across my original “outline” for Lady Justice Drinks Wolfhook Juice (noir!Fischl), which was what inspired this post, and then dug this post up from my drafts, in case anyone wants to see old process notes.

Fi's unique ability: good instincts for story logic / the POSSIBLE.

What holds that back: trying to make it LEGIBLE to others.

She's stuck on trying to be VALUED by others, which she notices as trying to be Seen/UNDERSTOOD ("be normal like Amy"). She should, instead, embrace ILLEGIBILITY/Incomprehensibility, which will let her quietly know her own worth as an ACE UP THE SLEEVE. (known value : legible :: illegible : hidden value)

[implicitly, "In the end she DOES and this is GOOD."]

ETA: Then for contrast,

Bennett's unique ability is his confidence in his HIDDEN VALUE, held back by his GUILT over getting other people hurt.

Note the overlap in 'hidden value', etc etc, for cheap and easy thematic resonance

Me: *opens a word processor*

Me: gonna write me some meaningless fluff

'meaningless fluff' outline, two hours later: CHARACTER is good at UNIQUE ABILITY but it's held back by MAJOR FLAW. They have PROBLEM, which they notice as SYMPTOM. If they do RESPONSE then they will get OUTCOME. In the end, they actually DO/DON'T and this is GOOD/BAD.

Future me: when did this fic stop being fluff?

[aroaceleovaldez]

one of the things im most annoyed with about Piper being given a blowdart in TOA is like. yes there is a rich history of Cherokee blowdarts HOWEVER rick does not appear to have done much research about it beyond googling "traditional Cherokee weapons" and then he of course proceeds to be kind of weird about it. like. congrats once again you ALMOST had something.

(for reference if you DO want to learn more about Cherokee blowdarts/traditional weapons, this video and this video are quite nice)

[fastcardotmp3]

I'm not usually the audience for most kid fic content HOWEVER the idea of Eddie falling into a circumstance where he becomes the Uncle Wayne to some other kid who has nowhere else to go has me by the throat today

like. circular narratives.... hear me out....

maybe Eddie did have a sibling, a sister ten years older than him who was out of the house and as far away as she could manage before he even ended up in Hawkins with Wayne. maybe he and his sister didn't keep in touch because by the time she had her footing in the world well enough to come back and see him, Eddie was long gone already.

maybe she ends up in worse situations than he does by nature of not having a Wayne of her own to teach her what it feels like to have someone stick around for you and maybe one of those situations is ending up with a kid she's not equipped to take care of, no matter how much she tries.

she needs help, needs backup, needs someone to take this 10-year-old in and give her safety while her mother gets healthy and tries to learn what it means to be stable.

And hey, listen, Eddie Munson is 27 at this point, he's had seven years to heal from the bullshit Hawkins put him through and he's still working hard every day to keep that momentum going, but a child?

he's not a father, not an uncle, take her to Wayne for fuck's sake, he begs of his sister even though he knows deep down he doesn't mean it, not when Wayne has finally retired, finally has some stability of his own.

what other option do I have? I need you, Ed, is begged of him in return, and he hears her, he does, but what does he have to offer in this situation?

he's a mechanic with PTSD and a one-bedroom in Bloomington who's been pining for his best friend the former jock-turned-part time student for the past two years.

he's a wreck and a half who has nothing but lateral moves to make in his future and has to set three different alarm clocks to wake himself up in time for work every morning and he's just-- Eddie. That's all he is. That's all he has to offer.

It can't possibly be enough.

What's her name? he asks despite himself, out here on the sidewalk in front of his place of work where he'd been ambushed, where he knows Steve will be pulling into the spot across the street to pick him up any minute.

Naomi, is the answer, and she will be, even if Eddie doesn't see it yet.

There's no part of Eddie Munson which has ever dreamed of trips to the park and helping with homework and drives to the mall to buy presents for birthday parties.

There's no part of him which has ever sought out parenthood to anything other than the stray cat who likes to beg for treats at his back door.

There's no part of him which is built for this, Eddie knows, as he sees the familiar shape of a familiar car parking across the street and idling.

Naomi, he breathes anyway, looks down at the photograph being pressed into his hand, the untamed curls and missing front teeth.

She's sitting on the front steps of a trailer, sun shining down on her and pinking up the bridge of her nose and it's him for a moment. It's him, loved unequivocally by a guy who never planned to have kids, never wanted them, and loved Eddie with everything he had to offer despite it.

It's him, the little boy that still lives in Eddie's chest, just asking not to be forgotten.

You're all she's got right now, Eddie.

Well, shit.

He's gonna need to put a call into Wayne, isn't he?

[crystalpallette]

everyone say thank you puzzle pop for giving us ringo's birthday in time for us to celebrate

[httpiastri]

missing paul's self-sprays today :(

[ropes3amthoughts]

Fun fact did you guys know that in canon Kabru is shown shirtless 3 times

If you guys know of any more instances of Kabru with no shirt on feel free to correct me to make my fact factually correct y’know? Feel free to send me any other instances of Kabru with no shirt on for my data this is my important data y’know? Please guys sned me Kabru with no shirt on this is an emergency and for the sake of science. Ascientific emergency if you will. Guys please help me in my sceifnricc endeavors. My research. Guys. My scientific paper is due in 3 and I need Kabru with no shirt on. Guys please I need it for my totally real and legit history article. I need shirtless Kabru images for my English resume. Kabru’s exposed shoulders are necessary for my grade in calculus guys

Ok I can’t think of any more jokes I am just going to be serious and say I love Kabru because those are my genuine earnest feelings I love him so so so so much he is my sweet dove scrimblo bbb (babyboy) <333333333333333333 I feel like a cartoon character with hearts for eyes I am swooning I love him so insanely much he is my dearest guy ever muah muah muah <3333333333333 I would open a pickle jar for him and like he could totally open those by himself but I think he should get to sit around and not worry his pretty little head bc like I could totally fuck up those pickle jars and then he could just chill like I’m actually pretty good at opening jars you guys that’s a fun fact about me I’m cool like that and I could be so cool and good to Kabru I would be like “I love you” and stuff you know all lovingly Kabruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I love him so much like just imagine a scrawny guy fanning their face and sighing dreamily because that’s me right now about Kabru god he’s so lovely I love himmmmmmmm <33333333333 he makes me smile and makes my heart flutter and stuff teeheehee I love Kabru I feel like a burning in my chest and I keep biting my teeth I feel like I’m going to explode I’m going insane Kabruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu agghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh slobbers everywhere and starts bawling my eyes out and falls over and splats on the ground with a loud thud and does fifteen summersaults and pulls my hair out and kicks my legs oughhhjh Kabru <33333333 I feel so much for him and I don’t even know what to say to exes it properly he is like a leaf in the wind that falls on your head when you’re walking and you become so inexplicably charmed by it and feel as if nature is giving you a gentle kiss and you just feel so loved he’s like a mug of hot chocolate on a chilly day and there’s also a fuzzy blanket and comfortable pajamas that’s him to me I love him I love him I love him so bad you guys he’s so dear to me I LOBE KABRU I feel so passionate about him right now and to cope with this I just watched that one animatic like 20 times in a row and now I’m going to read a fanfic where he eats a yummy meal he’s like a sweet summer’s day to me Kabruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

[tulisydan]

Do you like Käärijä?

[fennthetalkingdog]

Dang, being nonhuman really is just like being trans, where I look back at my life and go, "Ohhhhhhhh, so THAT'S where it came from." It's easy for me to fall into the habit of thinking, "Well I just found this new label but I don't want it to infiltrate my whole life." But... it already has. All those moments pretending to be a cat on the playground, making fake "dog packs" with my friends, wrestling with my dog and laying next to her as if I was just another pup, attaching to my dog and cat stuffed animals, making dog-like noises to supplement my words, pretending I had (and still have) a tail to wag when I wanted, shaking out my "fur" and huffing just because I "liked mimicking my dog"—those were all my nonhumanity shining through. Me identifying with the nonhuman/therian label isn't an outliner, it's just the trend.

[thequeertheatrekid]

I need Frank to call Matt some variation of pretty, pretty boy, pretty thing ect.

I need for Matt to then shrivel up, blushing a bright red. I need him to then bury his face into the nearest object, be it a pillow or Frank’s chest trying to hide the quickly forming blush, because there is no way on earth that this man does not have a praise kink.

[crustyfloor]

Cage imagery

Leash imagery

Till is like a dog to these Aliens, a rather annoying, loud, rambunctious, aggressive dog. And you know what most people do to dogs like that? well, best case scenario they train and condition it to loose these traits and become subdued, calm, obedient, submissive to their owner so that they're easier to handle.

The Aliens successfully traumatized trained Till to become a good dog.

[libertatias]

sam drake + assorted text posts

[fastcardotmp3]

stobin on the run; ronance; background steddie; 1k words

After everything, after Vecna, after the Gates close, Robin is never quite able to let go of Starcourt.

None of them are, to a certain extent, but the particular way Robin Buckley clings to Russian conspiracies and the fear of what it would mean for her and her friends if they ever decided they weren't done with those kids who knew just a little too much, is actually dangerous.

She keeps an eye on things, learns Russian for real, never really lets go of the paranoia that any drink she doesn't make herself might be spiked, might be the one that takes her down long enough for her to end up in another cell with no windows and no hope for getting out.

It's dangerous because she's smart.

It's dangerous because of how damn close she gets.

When Agent Stinson shows up on her doorstep and tells her its not safe for her to remain where she is, living the life she's leading, her initial response is to tell her to go fuck herself. Robin hasn't been safe since 1985. Robin hasn't been safe since long before then either, given Steve's stories, given El's.

But the fact of the matter is she's something of a national security risk. The binders tucked under false bottomed drawers in her and Steve's apartment are borderline treasonous.

When Agent Stinson says, "you're not safe," she means from their own government as much as an enemy one, and that?

Well, that earns a different response.

It doesn't feel obvious to her that Steve would come with her when she runs.

He's built a life here in Indianapolis, a job he likes painting houses and a burgeoning relationship with the guy they both came to adore while waiting by his hospital bedside, but when she reflects upon this out loud he gets more angry than he's ever been.

Not loud, but mad all the same, that she'd ever presume to leave him behind when her life was in danger.

So Steve comes.

They're in Scotland first, the quickest flight they were able to get seats on after driving themselves to Canada, and then Italy for a while. They jump below the equator to Argentina and then even lower to Australia.

They see the world. They leave their lives behind. They leave their people too.

And it hurts. It hurts to be hunted by the government they've covered for their entire adult lives. It hurts because of how unsurprising it is.

It hurts to be lonely for no reason other than knowing too much.

It hurts enough to, one day, embrace the danger again.

One day isn't today.

One day isn't the day Nancy Wheeler's phone call doesn't get picked up.

At twenty-seven years old, Nancy has essentially spent a decade working in journalism.

At twenty-seven years old, she's deep into burnout over the frustration of impeding bureaucracy and she's talking with Robin on the phone every other day about how she's going to come join them in Indy and learn to paint or something instead.

She's talking with Robin on the phone every other day.

And then Robin doesn't pick up one afternoon.

And then she gets a call from Eddie.

Nancy resigns from her job at the Boston Globe the same day, hangs up her credentials, and makes that trip to Indy followed immediately by a trip to Hawkins because two of their friends are missing and in their experience? That can't mean anything good.

It becomes clear within a week that this isn't going to be an easy solve. A week of sleeping in her childhood bedroom and watching Eddie spiral and listening to Dustin and Erica go on tangent after tangent about all their various theories, hiding genuine terror underneath all their bickering.

It becomes clear in a month that this is going to require different skills than any of them have, and Nancy drives her car through the night to end up crashing in a bunker where she learns all the ins and outs of private investigation from a man with about twelve different identities should he need them.

Sam Owens went off the radar years ago.

Anyone who worked at Hawkins Lab all but doesn't exist anymore.

It's a hard fucking thing to solve and all the while Nancy carries those phone calls in her back pocket, because she knows Robin wouldn't just leave, not from the way they spoke with each other.

Robin laughed with Nancy.

She was so eager to share stories about her day that she would leave lengthy messages on Nancy's machine. She was so eager to hear Nancy's own stories that she would stay on the phone while making dinner at risk of burning the house down.

She spoke quiet and earnest into the dead hours of the night, the cresting of a rising sun. She told Nancy about everything they'd do when Nancy finally took a break from the job that was making her miserable and how they would find her something fun. Something just fun, Nance, I swear, we're gonna get you hobbies.

Robin wouldn't just leave.

But if she had to? If she had no other choice? Nancy knows Steve would go with her.

It takes three years in the end, and Nancy's half convinced the two of them got sloppy on purpose, caught back in the Americas with a trip to Mexico and a reused passport, and Nancy is dragging Eddie out of his head and onto a plane before she can fully explain that it's mostly a gut thing.

The trail she's been chasing? Seeing them in it even if they're not there? It's entirely a gut thing, which is why it's only Eddie she drags with her, it's only Murray she allows to know where they're going in case it goes wrong.

It's only her head she lets believe it, because she doesn't think her heart will survive another loss like this.

She dreams sometimes at night, of an amused voice teasing in her ear, tinny over the phone lines but so vastly real.

She lets her head believe it on the plane, on the cab ride, on the bus ride, on the walk down a long rural road out to a little house in the desert with a fence and a mailbox painted yellow.

She lets her head believe it when she watches the twitch of a curtain from inside.

She only lets her head believe it, and that's a lie she only realizes was a lie when Robin Buckley steps out onto the porch with Steve at her shoulder and the world stops.

Nancy Wheeler's knees almost give out from under her when those freckled cheeks plump up with the hint of a smile.

When she gets her arms around her, a hand across shaved down and dark-dyed hair, a word over the top about you're okay, you're okay, you're alive--

When Nancy breathes again, it's with the beat of a heart that knows it's not this easy.

But for a moment? She's dreaming in a lonely Boston apartment all over again.

For a moment, she's making plans.

She really does intend to stick to them this time.

[duine-aiteach]

I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m Irish and used to seeing all sorts of haha jokes about how weird our names are etc but yet I’m always surprised how surprised people are when I say that I find Welsh a pretty easy language to get the gist of. It makes sense! Welsh is something I know very little of but yet I find it easy enough to parse out the pronunciation of. I don’t always know what things mean but I’m not usually that far off in how they should be said.

[purplewilmon]

We are in this together

[truethes]

i also think this monday is a good reminder for everyone to remember that no matter what, you are also loved. sometimes being a human can feel like the most loneliest experience to be, but there will always be someone who sees something and thinks of you, who will have you on their mind, or simply see you post / in their notifications and simply light up because they got to hear from you / see you that day.

it doesn't matter how bad your day was or how badly you feel about yourself, the love will never go away. sometimes its not visible, but doesn't make it gone either way.