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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months ago

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the seasons pass (but you never do) - e.m.

summary: he knew your reputation. he knew you had you way with half of hawkins. it was never going to end well - but that didn't stop him.

warnings: reader is NOT a good person (need to emphasize this), billy hargrove is involved and sort of ooc, smut, oral (fem receiving), a lot of hurt, not a 'happy' ending, reader has severe issues with self-esteem (not in the usual obvious way), very self-sabotaging reader. mentions of reader having adult relationships with multiple male characters. NOT A 'HAPPY' ENDING. minors dni - 18+

pairings: eddie munson x fem!fuckgirl!reader (with mentions of steve x reader, johnathan x reader, and billy x reader.)

wc: 8.4k+

a/n: i cannot emphasize enough - the reader in this fic is very toxic. she is not a good person. this does not end well. also, be wary, as billy is used as the easiest companion who can align with her being a bad person, so she is friends with him. this probably won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's been a year in the works! thank you to anyone who reads. <3 also, HUGE thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for making that banner for me. i am undeserving of your talents baby.

oh, also, here's a fun playlist to go along with it.

SUMMER, 1988

It was always going to end this way. It’s how it’s supposed to go - you met him, you wanted him, you got him, you left him. There was never any illusions on your part as to what this was. He knew your reputation. He knew the ending. You knew the ending.

It was always going to end this way.

There was no amount of flowers he could have got you, no amount of midnight rendezvous to change this course. It never mattered how his laughter wound your chest tight or how his fingers fit a little too perfectly between yours. You didn’t do long-term relationships, and he always asked for too much from you. You could give him a summer, no more and no less. He knew that, you knew that, all your previous flings knew that. There was only one ending ever in sight for the two of you.

So why does it hurt so much when you catch sight of him around town with her?

Chrissy Cunningham is beautiful. She’s all shades of sunrise pinks, flavors of sweetness that spur stomach aches - the epitome of enchantment and a type of softness you couldn’t compare to. And when you see her arm in arm with him, you can see that beauty of hers painted across him. Her pinks paint roses on his cheeks, her laughter etches dimples into his cheeks you’d only ever seen in the late hours of the night. She makes him happy. She makes him look lovesick. She doesn’t hide him in the darkness, she flaunts him in the light, and he looks devastatingly beautiful without the shadows.

You should be happy for him. It shouldn’t phase you; you didn’t bat an eyelash when Steve Harrington had taken to dating every other girl in the town after your spring with him. You never winced when Johnathan Byers started dating Nancy Wheeler after a flirtatious fall with you. Billy Hargrove had been on the same page as you, ready to brave a chilling winter with you and accept when the ice melted along with the infatuation, returning your winks when you spotted each other with your newest one night stands in shared bars.

But Eddie’s summer stuck to your skin. No amount of showers run cold, no amount of new partners who you won’t allow to spend the night, wash you clean of him. The change in the leaves only amplified the ache left in your chest when August turns to September. The flowers weren’t the only things wilting when September flashes into October.

You miss him terribly, and it’s all your fault.

You let him stick around far longer than you should have. You let his wandering lips slot between yours and you let him sleep at your side from the very first night. When it was all said and done, you were the one that broke every single imaginary rule you had set for yourself, and the blame was yours to carry. Eddie Munson was never going to be a three month memory to wipe away with the steam of your mirror. He’d done it, he’d left his mark. He’d managed to make the streets of Hawkins feel cold and empty in his absence, to make everything dull in comparison to your life before him.

You empty the last of your glass of wine, all bitter and tinged on your tongue, and chuckle internally as you watch Eddie’s hand’s find Chrissy’s hips from across the bar. Go figure.

SPRING, 1987

The Hideout was busy as ever, booming with business on a Saturday night as you reentered the scene. Your ‘date’ for the night was still outside the bar, surely not even entertaining the thought of coming back inside.

He hadn’t taken to you breaking the news that it was over kindly.

“You never let them down easy, do you?” Billy chuckles as he leans against one of the standing tables near the bar. He had seen the look in your eyes when you dragged the nameless boy out the front door; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Starry eyed boy, ever-fleeting girl. They were fools, and they should have noticed your wandering eyes and lack of commitment from the get-go.

“Never,” you smirk back as you approach him. The live band had just finished, the music over the speakers nothing compared to the deafening screams of the guitars that had played, “It’s not my fault the boys in this town never learn their lesson.”

Billy only shrugs and throws back the last of his whiskey, “What did it this time? Did he drop the big L? Maybe he brought you flowers like Harrington did that one time?”

“Oh, God,” you place a hand over your heart dramatically, “Please don’t remind me. Breaking his heart nearly broke my nonexistent one.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy cackles, “Still can’t believe you ever gave the sap a chance. Or what about Byers, hm?”

“Couldn’t break a heart I never had. He always had eyes for Wheeler, that’s what made it fun,” you shrug and grab at a fruity drink that had been abandoned at the table, “To answer your question, he got clingy. All jealous because I was making eyes at the lead singer,” you tip your chin towards the stage that’s now empty and take a sip of the cocktail, “Say, what happened to your date? She looked pretty.”

“You were making eyes at Munson? Doll, I knew you were getting desperate after me, but him?” Billy cuts himself off with a low whistle.

“Shut up,” you take another long sip of the drink. It’s sweeter than your preference, but free alcohol is free alcohol, “Tell me what happened to the blonde you were chatting up.”

“I’m more into redheads.”

“Aw, but it looked like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I had to have three shots before I could stomach her laughing at my jokes.”

You reach over to pinch his cheeks, receiving sharp slaps against your wrists.

“Hot,” you coo before leaning back and ending his attack against your hands, “You know, if we both strike out tonight, we could always go home together.”

“You struck out, the night is still young for me,” Billy grins wickedly and looks around the busy bar for emphasis.

There’s a small commotion at one of the doors to the side of the stage, and you glance over to catch sight of the band that had been playing exiting.

The lead singer, Munson as Billy had referred to him, was just as stunning when taken down from his stage pedestal. His hair had been pulled back into a low bun, his torso once exposed on stage now covered in a faded Judas Priest tour shirt, but his Cheshire smile on his face was just as brilliant without the stage lights. Dimples hidden by the dark bar lighting, plush lips and scruff framing his face.

Billy catches you staring at him.

“Maybe you didn’t strike out,” he hums, “You gonna go for it, hot stuff?”

You smile in return. Something dangerous, something evil yet inviting, “I might. I do need a new play thing for the summer, after all.”

“Careful. I’m sure there’s a line of groupies willing to fight you for the Eddie Munson.”

Billy had been mocking you with a shrill voice, but he had been wrong.

There was no line of girls for you to compete with as you approached Eddie. And if there was, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. From the moment you had smiled at him, uttering your name into Eddie’s ears over the bass of the music, placing a careful hand on his shoulder and telling him how much you just adored his music, he had been hooked. You had him in your grasp from the start.

And maybe Billy knew that as he flashed you a sly grin over a redhead’s shoulder as you dragged Eddie behind you later that night, heading for the restrooms that patrons notably didn’t use.

It was your lipstick smeared over Eddie’s neck that night, it was your name falling from his lips as you pressed him against a stall wall, it was your hair that he tangled his hands in as you sat pretty on your knees before him, it was your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs as he fucked your mouth. No, other girls never would have stood a chance.

By the end of that night, you hadn’t even cum, but you thought nothing of it, still smug that you’d found yourself a new supposed victim. You’d never considered which one of you truly held the match, which one of you might bleed gasoline rather than crimson blood.

All that you considered was the fact that you’d wanted Eddie, and you’d got him, just as it always went.

That was only the first night.

SUMMER, 1987

You fall for him in the summer. You convince yourself you’re in control still, but it’s fruitless - you’d lost control the moment you’d tasted him on that dizzy spring night rather than waiting for the arrival of summer’s heat.

“Come over.”

Two simple words, yet the moment you’d spoken them over the line, Eddie had wasted no time to speed his way across town for your apartment. He was officially at your beck and call. You said the word, and he was at your dispense.

It was the fastest he’d ever arrived at your doorstep, rapping his knuckles against familiar rosewood and listening to the familiar weight of your footsteps approaching the door.

“Hey, you,” you sigh softly once you catch sight of him in your porchlight. The creatures of summer buzz as background noise as you drink him in. Same wild curls, same deviant smirk. There looks to be new rips in his black jeans, and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that shatters the dreamy image of him to you.

You still want him just as badly as you had the first night.

“Sorry I took so long,” he teases, leaning into the doorframe you rest your hip against, “Traffic, you know.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just terrible this time of year,” you play along. You both know he’d made the fifteen minute drive in under ten minutes. But there’s something in the warm air, something electric and fluttering and addictive and palpable. You’re sure if you were to rest your hand flirtatiously against his chest as you normally did with your rotation of partners, that he’d burn you.

Something new. You tell yourself it’s just the excitement of a fresh Summer plaything, and you ignore the voice that whispers with the reminder that this started in the Spring.

“You gonna let me in?” he nods in the direction of your apartment behind you, bathed in a soft yellow from the dusk and the lamp on the table beside your couch.

You bring a hand to your chin and tap a finger mockingly, “Hm, I don’t know. Should I?”

“You should,” he leans even closer.

“I might need convincing.”

His breath washes over your cheek, so gentle you could have mistaken it for the summer breeze. You can smell the spice of his cologne, the stubborn smoke from his last cigarette. It makes your head spin.

“Convincing, you say?” he murmurs as his lips graze your earlobe, “I’ve been known to be convincing.”

This was something you enjoyed about him. He wasn’t like other boys - he didn’t fall to your feet and praise the ground you stood on, not directly. He didn’t follow you like a lost puppy. He took the time to dance with you, to entertain you with banter and to enrapture you with the chase. Maybe that’s why Spring and Summer felt the same when it came to him.

“I call bullshit,” you laugh breathlessly as his lips connect with your neck, making a trail of pecks until he reaches the bare skin of your shoulder. “You still haven’t convinced me to listen to Metallica.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his fingers sneak beneath the strap of your tank top, “Just be patient.”

The pet name strikes a kink in your armor, and in an instant, your hands are on his shoulders and dragging him into the living room, barely remembering to slam the door shut behind him.

You never let them call you nicknames normally. Billy had been the only exception.

But when he calls you baby, something blooms in your chest. And it’s vines and thorns alike twist and prick your gut, deflating your better judgment as the two of you are a mess of clumsy limbs that can’t seem to navigate your hallway fast enough. You can’t seem to get him to your bed fast enough.

“Off,” he demands against your lips when you finally have him sitting on your comforter, thighs straddling his as his hands tug at the tank top’s hem.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, but you’re already complying, shucking off the fabric and exposing yourself to him. You’d foregone a bra - it was too hot in Hawkins this time of year.

He doesn’t offer you an answer, hardly taking the time to suck in a deep breath before his mouth wraps around one of your peaked nipples and his large hand spans across your back to press you as close to him as he can get you. You’re already moaning too loudly, sure to receive noise complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. But you’re not thinking about the neighbors or tomorrow, you can only focus on his tongue and lips, working soft magic over your body as he twists the two of you so that he’s hovering over you.

“Fuck,” you blissfully breathe out, fingertips raking through the roots of his curls. His mouth has moved on to your other breast, leaving blooming petals of bruises in its wake.

Another thing you’d never allow to happen with any of the other boys.

No marks. A simple rule. A forgotten rule when it came to Eddie.

“You like that?” he chuckles as he places a final chaste kiss to your chest, lifting his head and staring up at you with his bambi eyes. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in, wander and wade through for hours if given the chance. Shadows of brown and honey intertwining, beckoning to you with a promise of the adoration you seeked out.

You do like that. As a matter of fact, you love it.

“I like it better when your mouth is busy, rockstar,” you say as if you wouldn’t listen to him talk for hours, as if you hadn’t listened to him speak about nonsense as the time passed the two of you by.

He takes his cue, and he does as you ask. He traces roadmaps down your stomach, across your thighs and hips, not uttering a single word until he’s pulled away your cotton shorts and lace underwear.

When he’s face to face with your heat, he finally speaks again.

“Beautiful.”

It’s just a word. If any of your previous flings had spoken it, you’d smack them away and declare the moment over. In fact, you’d done just that with your autumn boy from last year. You weren’t here to be called beautiful, to be held carefully or to be praised as you let them take you however they pleased. You were here to get one thing and one thing only - your own pleasure.

Your back still arches when he says the word, your vines still crack your ribs just as they had reacted to the utterance of baby.

The thorns prickle beneath your skin when he makes you cum with his tongue once, twice, thrice too many times. When he pulls your body to his, when you allow him to forego the protection of a condom and you let him sigh contentedly into your mouth when he slides in, it all pierces you the same.

And when your voice has grown hoarse from chanting his name and your lips have gone chapped from kissing him desperately, you break your final damning rule.

“Stay with me?”

The plea comes out soft and heavy as your head rests against his chest. Even with your window open, the night breeze drifting in, the heat is stifling. It’s too warm to stay pressed so closely together, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging your body to his.

He doesn’t hesitate in his reply, “Of course.”

The two of you sink further into your sheets and each other. It wasn’t the first time Eddie Munson spent the night in your bed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

AUTUMN, 1987

“You like him more than you liked the others.”

It’s not a question - it’s a fact secured in concrete that falls from Billy’s lips as the two of you lean against the brick exterior of the Hideout. A cigarette is half-gone and held limply between his lips, yours freshly lit and clung to tightly between white knuckles.

“I don’t like him,” you scoff, “He’s a good fuck.”

You weren’t here on your normal business, scoping for another warm body to join you in your bed for the night. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing one of their weekly shows.

“Right. A good enough fuck to live to see the fall,” Billy presses, raising his eyebrows at you as he takes another drag and let’s the whisps of white smoke carry off into the cool night.

You’d just been striking out. That’s what you had told yourself. It was bound to happen eventually; you’d hit a dry streak, and you’d have to eventually find a repeat offender. Eddie was just that for you. Someone easy to fall back on. It didn’t hurt that you also enjoyed his company, especially when he’d swing you around in your kitchen while the two of you made dinner in your apartment or when he’d let you cuddle into his neck during the scary movie marathons you’d began to take part in with Halloween now looming around the corner.

“I haven’t seen you getting lucky,” you snap, a sudden defensiveness taking over. A lie, of course. You hadn’t frequented the bar enough lately to even know the last time your former fling had gotten laid.

Billy throws up his hands as he discards the butt of his cigarette, “Hey now, don’t get so feisty, doll. It’s okay to admit you’re going soft.”

Soft. Soft like Eddie’s hands when he pulled your hips against his night after night. Soft like Eddie’s eyes when he watched you in the shower during the mornings after, quick to swipe away any shampoo that drips down your forehead and dangerously close to your own eyes as you wash your hair. Soft like your voice every time you asked him to stay, over and over, never learning your lesson.

“I’m not going soft,” is all you say as you put out the cigarette, not even half-finished, and move to go back inside.

You’re not having this conversation. There’s nothing more to dissect. You weren’t going soft and you couldn’t like Eddie, it wasn’t in your nature.

It’s a mantra you repeat to yourself as you take in the sight of him still setting up the stage. You catch his eye and he grins at you, and you remind yourself you’re not soft. No, whatever this feeling is, it’s not soft. It is angry and loud, it is demanding and sharp. It is copper on your tongue and it is raging storm clouds in your mind. It is the opposite of everything he has been to you; it is every contrast possible to the way he treats you.

He treats you like a human being. You’re not a prize, you’re not an idol – you’re just a person, and sometimes, he treats you as if that’s the greatest thing you could possibly be.

When the show is over and rounds have been bought for the band, he comes home with you. He staggers on his feet and you know he’s had too much whiskey for his own good. Normally, any guy this drunk would be told to piss off.

He’s not any guy. He’s Eddie.

And so you take his drunken state in strides. You let his body lean into you as you guide him up the steps to your front door, you only smile when he gets handsy, you offer weak laughter at his terrible jokes.

“You only want me for my body,” he teases you between kisses when you hook your fingers into his jean’s belt loops to keep him close and upright, “Don’t you?”

This is the part where you tell him yes. You’re supposed to tell him he’s nothing more than a cure for the looming loneliness.

You shake your head.

“I’m not, but I can’t ride your personality, can I?” your fingers retract from the loops, and trace their way up his chest, memorizing the muscles beneath the t-shirt. It’s too faded to see the band logo once advertised.

“You could try,” he sways, and your wandering fingers curl into fists into the cotton material, “P-Probably be pretty hard, though. Just like me.”

He takes one of your hands and places it over the bulge in his jeans.

If he were any other guy, you’d play into it, because if he were any other guy, you’d be expecting to get something out of this night for your own selfish needs.

“Not so fast, rockstar,” you bring your hand back up to his chest as he hiccups, brows furrowed at your subtle rejection, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

It’s an uphill battle of gangly limbs and stumbling steps. He falls against your hallway walls more times than you can count as you guide him to your bedroom and allow him to splay out on the mattress. The laces of his combat boots are impossibly knotted, but you win the war in the end and tug them off of him. He wiggles his toes within his socks, and watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“This is the part where you try to ride my personality, right?” he tempts you, the wiggling in his toes flowing up to his eyebrows, eyes alight with mischief.

Your hand is gentle as you grab his ankle, exposed from jeans that had ridden up into scrunched material around the bottom of his calf. “Right. Let me get you some water first.”

You leave him to rush to the kitchen, gathering the glass of water you’d promised along with a bottle of painkillers from your medicine cabinet. For a moment, you take in the silence and lean your palms onto the cold kitchen counter.

Five months. Two months too long, technically, if you were comparing it all to your track record. He’d seen the eggshell white walls of your apartment more than your own mother, more than your closest friends. At this point, even on your most lonesome nights, you found yourself leaving an Eddie-sized space on the sheets beside you. One of your pillows now permanently smelt like him. There was a mug in your cabinet reserved for him and his ridiculously sweet coffee preference. You’d bought his favorite brand of cigarettes just last week, far stronger than your preferred menthols, and you’d found one of his socks discarded in your dirty laundry.

No, this wasn’t soft. It couldn’t be.

When you finally return to your room, he’s already asleep. You still leave the water and the pills on the bedside table for the next morning, when he’d need them. You try not to think too hard about the way that even in his drunken slumber, he’s left a perfectly you-sized space beside him, arm thrown out perfectly so that you can curl into him once you’ve brushed your teeth and dressed down into pajamas.

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep against him is the way your soft hand grazes over his stomach in soothing circles, and the way your brain softly whispers in the hope of his hangover not being too cruel to him come morning light.

WINTER, 1987

“Eddie! Stop it!” you squeal when he nearly takes you down with him as his back connects with the polished ice beneath the two of you.

Ice skating wasn’t the best idea for two people who were notoriously uncoordinated. But he’d asked you to come with him, and you’d put up little resistance.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, still laying flat on his back with his eyes squeeze shut, legs spread wide as you wobble on your skates, “That fucking hurts.”

“I bet it does,” you nearly giggle, childish with your rosey cheeks and pink-tipped nose. Your smile is infectious once he opens his eyes and catches sight of you fighting back your laughter.

It was the first time the two of you had ever gone out before dark with each other. Although, you were sure by the time you two had finished your goofing off inside the indoor ice rink, it’d be night.

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, struggling to lift himself onto his elbows, “Laugh it up, chuckles. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your first fifty falls.”

“Fifty?” you squeak, forcing faux offense, “I only fell twice, thank you very much.”

It takes a bit for him to finally find his footing once more, plenty of hesitant and awkward movements to simply stand up right before you. Once you’re nearly face to face again, he’s pouting. “Kiss it better?”

Your feet shuffle beneath you, struggling to keep your balance. Your hands fly out and grab onto one of his forearms for balance, “Where’s it hurt?”

“Right here,” his free hand lifts to point to his lips, accentuating his pout further.

“Funny,” you muse, “I don’t recall you falling on your face - this time.”

He huffs as you begin to lose your balance again, one of your hands slipping down his wrist until your fingers are intertwined to the best of your abilities given the angle. His hand is freezing from the ice. Even despite his teasing, he’s quick to work with you, keeping the two of you standing straight with ever-shuffling feet.

“Residual pains or whatever they call them,” he waves off, tapping his lips again to make a point. You roll your eyes, but you’re still quick to lean forward and peck him.

“That’s all?” he whines, already moving in for another kiss.

Any onlooker would assume it’s a date. But it couldn’t be - you didn’t do dates. It was two friends, two acquaintances really, hanging out for the sake of fun. Just as you fell back on Eddie when your nights grew forlorn, he had seeked you out for comfort on his isolating days. It was just another perk of your arrangement.

An arrangement that had dragged on for eight long months.

“You’re greedy,” you mumble against his lips as he tries to deepen the kiss and you deny him.

“Of course I’m greedy,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, “Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?”

You couldn’t, you really couldn’t. You’d had your fair share of possessive types in the past, the kind that felt the need to always claim you as your own. And you would have found it hot, too, if it didn’t feel like they reduced you down to nothing more than some trophy to parade around town.

Eddie didn’t do that. He was still greedy, he had still gotten daring with marking you as his own as of late, but he never reduced you. He never forced you to shrivel in size, never tried to compact you into the box he needed you in. He took you as you were.

You were enough for him. For the first time in a very long time, you were enough.

If you thought about it too long, you would have become dizzy out there on the ice with Eddie. So you don’t think about it. You indulge yourself in banter and echoing laughter, in the scolding looks from nearby parents when one of you makes a crude joke loud enough for their children to hear. You claim your indulging him with the incessant kisses, but you know deep down they’re also for you. To feel his lips on yours. To feel his hands on your hips. To feel his fingers between yours.

To feel like enough.

You’re both still giddy when you approach the counter after several hours have passed, dropping your rented skates on the counter as you glance to the arcade filled with patrons. Glowing lights and trilling noises emit from the area, tangling with giggling that you can’t quite place as coming from there or the ice. It’s loud enough that Eddie has to lean in closer to the teenager working the cash register.

He insisted on paying. You’d tried to fight him on it, but he insisted it was his treat.

It’s during this momentary separation, in which your worlds’ briefly stop revolving around each other, that you spot him. He must have been here for as long as you and Eddie had been, and you must have just been too wrapped up in enough to have noticed him sooner.

Just as you see him, he sees you. Just as you prepare to turn on heel, to return to hiding into Eddie’s enough, he’s calling your name.

It’s loud. It mingles with the sounds already coming from the atmosphere. Eddie doesn’t hear him, but you do.

“Steve,” you try to greet him with a friendly tone through your clenched teeth, taking a few steps further away from Eddie, away from enough and blissful delusion, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah,” he looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he approaches you, “Yeah, not since, uh- well, you know.”

Not since the night you’d officially cut all ties with him, somewhere between Jonathan and Billy. You’d broken his heart. You’d nearly broken your own.

Your lips are pressed into a tight lip smile as you try to redirect the conversation, “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I’ve- uh, yeah, good. You?”

I’ve been on a downward spiral of breaking every single rule that I have spent my entire life curating for my dating life, and I know you’re aware of this by the way you just looked at Eddie over my shoulder, and the way your brow is furrowing, and I get it. I get it. I fucked up.

“I’ve been alright,” you force your jaw to relax, you force a kind and shy smile. It’s almost akin to the ones you’d originally flash him to get him in your grasp, “How’s Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler. After you left Steve the first time, letting whatever situationship that had begun just fizzle out, he’d ran into her arms. From the get go with Jonathan, you’d always known you were a placeholder for her. Even Billy had made a damn pass at her once you guys gave up at spring’s dawn; he’d claimed it might as well be a tradition now, only laughing as Nancy shot him down as expected.

Nancy Wheeler was everything you weren’t. She could promise these men security, stability, commitment, a future. She didn’t hide them. They weren’t dirty secrets forced to only wander into her arms late at night, they weren’t kicked out at the end of each night once she’d had their way with them.

Nancy probably never had her way with men, you realized, more likely letting them have their way with her.

“We broke up,” Again. He forgets to add the again.

They’d gotten together after that first time, been together while you had fun with Jonathan, broken up the moment you were finished with Jonathan and he could go to where he belonged – with Nancy.

Of course, when Jonathan chose a different university to go to, somewhere far away from Nancy, those two had broken up. Steve had swooped in again. It was a never ending headache of small town gossip you had grown tired of hearing about.

“I’m sorry,” you aren’t really, “That’s… forget I’m asked,” you’d feel worse if you hadn’t seen the girl waiting to the side for Steve. His date, no doubt.

“No worries, it’s been a while since it happened anyways,” he shrugs it off, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes.

He’d once called you drunkenly, going off on how he was going on all these dates trying to find you or Nancy again, how none of them were you or Nancy. Which, at the time, just irritated you because Steve, why do you still have my number? But now? Now, you almost get it. You almost understand the pain of searching for a familiar face in the eyes of strangers because any time you had gone to your usual haunts these last seven months, you found yourself searching crowds for wild, messy curls and warm brown eyes. For shades of honey and the scent of tobacco drowned out by cheap cologne.

You hadn’t been striking out anymore, the realization hits clear as day. It’s not even that you were being as picky as you normally were – none of the guys were Eddie. None of them had freckles below their right eyes that made your breath catch, none of them had the same calluses along their fingers from years of guitar practice. None of them had the same boyish grin that shone through the dark of your room at two in the morning, leaving you with no choice but to let him stay. They weren’t Eddie.

“You like him more than you liked the others,” Billy’s voice reverberates from the back of your mind.

The truth seeps into your bones like ash and flames, a fever burning you from the inside out.

Steve only fans the flames when he nods over your shoulder at Eddie, “So, are you and Munson a thing now?”

Flames. Hot coals in the back of your throat, lively embers trailing down your spine. You’re watching the entirety of who you had worked so hard to become over the years bursting into flames.

“What?” you whisper, not realizing Eddie had finished paying behind you, “No. No, we- no. We aren’t anything. We’re just… we’re just friends.”

Even the word friends whispers away into smoke, choking you up.

“Friends? Looks like you two were on a date, like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“Well, we’re not. He’s not.”

Steve hardly buys it, but when Eddie joins your side once more, you don’t even offer him a glimmer of a farewell. You grab the wrist of your friend, your not boyfriend, and you high tail out of there. Still choked up, still running, still reeling.

It’s still light when you leave the building and your hand drops from Eddie’s. You’ll both pretend the cold is from the weather, and not the distance you put between him and yourself.

And if he heard your conversation with Steve, he doesn’t bring it up. Not that night, at least.

SPRING, 1988

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You got him in the spring – it makes sense that you lose him in the spring.

“What do you mean?” you play dumb, painfully coy as you continue to rinse the dishes. Plural. Dishes that the two of you had just dirtied through a painfully tense dinner together. In your apartment, at the counter of your tiny kitchen, knees not even so much as brushing.

“This,” something has broken inside of him. Snapped, shattered, splintered. “It’s been a year, and I keep telling myself that you’ll come around, but-”

“Come around?” you cut him off with a laugh, one that stabs not only through his chest but your own. A double-edged dagger that has been sharpening itself for a year now, “Come around to what, Eddie?”

He hadn’t expected the way you lash out, the cold storm that you had been consumed by since the winter night where Steve had looked at you like something had changed in you. As if you had finally gotten better, as if you had had something sour in you all along and Eddie had managed to magically drain you of it.

He couldn’t. He never was going to be able to.

“Me?” he’s not sure of himself, voice wavering and eyes sparkling as they widen with tears of frustration, “Us? Fuck, I don’t know, but I can’t keep-”

“You thought I would come around to the idea of us?” your voice is cool and collected, nothing like his, as you finally turn around, “What, like we’re dating?”

You were. A year of this back and forth, and you were too stubborn to just accept it. It was your downfall. It was the bleeding wound for not only yourself, but for Eddie – for this, as he had called it.

You like him more than you liked the others.

So, are you and Munson a thing now?

A good enough fuck to live to see the fall.

You were never going to be enough for him. In your lifetime, you’d always known what you were good for, and it wasn’t for boys like Eddie Munson.

“What else do you call this?” he motions vaguely to the dishes, to the fridge that holds his takeout, to the hallway he had tumbled down more times than you could count, “We’re more than just good friends, sweetheart.”

“We both knew what we were getting into.”

“Did we?”

Come over.

I might need convincing.

Stay with me?

You should have been smarter. You should have been more careful.

It’s a brutal fight, and it’s the everything you had been waiting for. The illusion of softness finally breaks. Whispered words of care have become sharp insults, all the small moments where you had made mistake after mistake with him are now weapons. If the dated walls of your kitchen could speak, the tiles would murmur of all the blood being spelt as brutal defenses are sent back and forth from both sides.

“I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“You could, you just don’t want to.”

“What’s the difference, Eddie?”

You were never going to be enough. You should have seen that, clear as daylight from the beginning. You were something rotten from the moment he met you, and he had just been too stupid to recognize all the decay.

Of course I’m greedy. Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?

Why couldn’t he just accept what you were willing to give? Why did he have to push, to persist, to insist upon you laying more of yourself out for him? You had already dissected yourself beyond repair, made the cuts that would never heal and bared your innards in a way that you never should have to begin with.

Stay with me?

You wish you were still just lazing in between your sheets with him. A you-shaped space at his side, a pillow on his side of your bed. You wish he had never picked a fight he had every right to rage. You wish, you wish, you wish.

Stay with me?

And then you lose, you lose, you lose.

“You were just some idiot who thought you could change me,” you seethe at some point, aiming damning arrows for every exposed bone he’d ever given you a glimpse of, “What made you think that? Hm? Was it when I paraded you around the town, calling you my boyfriend? Or was it every time I told you just how much I loved you? Was it when I fell to my knees and kissed the ground you walked on, Eddie? Go ahead. Tell me.”

You were just rubbing salt in the wound at that point. Saying everything he had wished for over the last year, that you never gave him.

You never called him your boyfriend. You never told him you loved him. You never did, and you never would.

When it’s all said and done, it’s everything you had expected. A screaming match that the neighbors will complain about the same as they’d complained about every late-night rendezvous between the two of you. An effective cutting of ties that you’d been anticipating for a long twelve months. If it were the movies, maybe the fight would have been more effective. Something that would delve into the lead up of love confessions, an ending where you wind up in his arms and he’s whispering every which way that he still cares for you, even with your teeth bared and your sharpest knives poised.

It’s not a movie. It’s everything you expected.

But you hadn’t been prepared for the ache. When your own vicious words left a taste of ash on the tongue, when his eyes flashing with something harsher and less caring for you left a hollow ache that rang in your ears longer than his voice did. You didn’t think that you’d feel the cutting of ties. Every nerve ending in your body feels that jagged edge that saws through all that you two had tried to build over the last year, but it’s far too little and far too late. The foundation was cracked – you were damaged.

You lose him. The world doesn’t end; the night carries on even as he grabs his leather jacket and leaves behind the sock in your dirty laundry. And when he exits out your front door, hiding away any tears that might have slipped free, just as you were, you feel that unexpected whisper inside of you.

Stay with me?

You sleep alone that night. For once, the smell of tobacco and his shampoo makes you throw the pillow that was once his across the room.

SUMMER, 1988

She deserves him.

Chrissy Cunningham deserved Eddie Munson far more than you ever had. She was enough.

Summer can stain, but it can’t erase. Even in the months of aftermath, even for every tear shed in private and wave of yearning that would drown you in the dead of night, you never changed. It had hardly taken weeks after Eddie had walked out of your life for you to return to your old ways, going back to the bars and seeking out the latest warm blood to lose yourself in that night.

It didn’t matter that you compared each and every single smile to Eddie’s. It didn’t matter that you’d have to grip your sheets until your knuckles turned bloody to avoid touching the strangers hovering over you, hoping to feel familiar skin and a comfort long lost instead of whatever poor soul you’d dragged home with you.

He deserves a love full of life. A love that breathes him in and doesn’t drain him. One that could let him feel the sun on his skin rather than hiding him away in the night.

A love that doesn’t tick away each passing season, because it’s a love that doesn’t have a ticking time bomb attached to it.

“Never thought I’d see the day Cunningham got her claws in Munson,” Billy mumbles around a cigarette at your side.

He didn’t tease about Eddie those first few months. One look at you, and he had known.

“She didn’t get her claws in him,” you say, monotonous as you reach for your drink once more, “I’m happy for him. They look happy.”

They do. They really, really do. A love that burns like summer, and has never been touched by a dying autumn or cruel winter. The type of happiness Eddie would have never been able to find from you, try as he had.

Billy taps some of his ash into the tray at the center of your shared table. Surely, he had better things to do, but he stays. It was probably entertaining, watching you pine and regret for once in your life, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Their’s don’t. I bet you that there’s a ring on her finger before next summer.”

You don’t want to imagine the pain that would ignite in you. That’s the type of emotion that would far surpass any regret you currently feel. But you seem to enjoy torturing yourself, eyes still zeroing in on her left hand, as if you already see the glint of whatever diamond Eddie would seek out for his worthy lover.

“And I bet if that happens, you skip town within twenty four hours of finding out.”

He’s right. Nothing was truly tying you to this sleepy town, and the reminder of your worst mistake, your most terrible slip up of all time, would easily send you running with your tail between your legs.

“Probably,” you sigh, no longer putting up a front. You hadn’t even tried batting your lashes at a single man since Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the bar. You were striking out tonight, on your own volition, “Maybe I’d move to California. I hear the men there are easy enough.”

“They are,” Billy laughs, throwing his head back. It’s enough to garner attention across the bar, numerous girls being enticed as if he might be a siren beckoning to them, “Take it from one. The girls on the west coast are prettier, though, so you can’t blame ‘em.”

The girls on the west coast probably resemble Chrissy. Golden skin, golden auras, golden light. Honeyed words and the sweetest of blushes across coy cheeks. They probably embody every sunset and sunrise simultaneously, and you can only stand there green with envy.

“You are awfully easy,” is all you can offer in reply. The banter has started to fall flat since Eddie. You’re no fun – hardly taking any bait that Billy will hand over so generously.

Maybe, if you had tried a little harder, you could have been one of those girls. Clear blue skies, not a sight of the storm clouds that you still let consume you.

Maybe Eddie would have stayed if you had tried a little harder.

There’s no real hope for it now. You’re left to being nothing more than a conglomeration of pathetic pity parties and the taste of cheap beer these days, hardly worth the chase once the boys get close enough to see the rot. You’ve stopped trying so hard to cover it up; you’d ripped yourself open for Eddie, and had never found a way to properly suture yourself back together so that anyone new might not get a glimpse of all the bad. They could spot it from a mile away these days.

It doesn’t help that you no longer try to cover it all up with overly sweet perfumes or sickly sweet pickup lines.

Billy’s laughter didn’t just draw the attention of the girls around the bars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a pair of whiskey eyes find the two of you, locking on you far too easily to have not known.

You notice, because of course you notice him. But when Billy notices, it catches you a bit more off guard.

“Like I said,” he drawls, and you nearly panic when he grabs his drink off to leave you behind, “Looks can be deceiving, hot stuff.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s quickly, not listening to a word that Billy is saying. Chrissy is saying something, something surely important, but her boy isn’t listening. Her boy, her conduit for all her sunshine, is staring right at you and has no plans on looking away any time soon.

He’s seen the rot up close and personal. He’s the one who’d handed the treacherous scalpel over to your shaking hands, encouraging you to open up in all the ways you never wished to.

You shouldn’t do it. You’ll regret it. You really shouldn’t do this.

“They never learn their lesson, do they?”

You don’t know who Billy is talking about.

Eddie, who almost seems to be under your spell, taking a slow slip of his neat whiskey, staring you down as if he’s brimming with bad ideas that he hopes you can hear from across the room.

Or you, who should know better. You hurt him, you broke his heart, you don’t deserve him. And yet, you’re selfish as ever, mind reeling with possibilities of how you wish the night would end.

You can hear the bad ideas. Clear as day. Especially when Eddie only breaks eye contact long enough to lean in to Chrissy and whisper something that effectively dismisses her, leaving Eddie all alone and in your gaze.

“They don’t,” you say, throwing back the last of your drink.

You know where he’s heading. And you know where you’re heading. A moth to his flame, going only where he will allow you. You’re a ghost of the menace you once were. The other men, the other bodies that kept you warm these nights; none of them were him. You didn’t want them. You weren’t soft with them. They never stayed, because you never asked them to. There was only one man in this bar, in this entire damn bar, that would ever fill the hole left behind in you after Eddie’s summer. Eddie’s spring, Eddie’s autumn, Eddie’s winter.

And he was walking outside the bar, almost tauntingly as he sauntered through the doors, beckoning you with each and every step.

Perhaps this time, Eddie’s the one who needs a summer plaything.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Billy taunts you as he takes a few steps back, knowing damn well as to what was about to happen. Bad ideas, downright terrible ideas.

Eddie is playing the same game as you were once a master in. It dawns on you; Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t his newest love. She wasn’t his sweetest sunrise or gentle spring. She was a passing wind, just like all the boys you’d enticed before him. She’s already moved along, pretty hand resting on the shoulder of a new beau and not even paying any mind to Eddie’s absence. She may deserve him, but she doesn’t have him.

Nor do you. The roles have been switched, and you should know better. He’s leading you to an inevitable death, whether it be a little one or something of catastrophic value. He is leading you right into your own demise. Just as you used to do with every new victim you’d set your mark on before him, before your summer, before it all.

All your old tricks, turned to weapons against you.

And you’ll let him. A moth to his flame. A dog at his window sill.

“It never does.”

Stay with me?

Maybe, this time, you’ll be the one staying. If only for the night, and if only for Eddie.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #i could certainly be persuaded to write a part 2 :)

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abovetherainandroses · 6 months ago

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my second piece for @bandomsummer blowout, for @buildarocketboys fic “the world so close (and I'm halfway to it)” (ao3)

I cannot emphasize enough how fun it was to draw a tangled AU, esp in partnership with my good friend ❤️

#fall out boy #peterick #patrick stump #pete wentz #sprout arts

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bearbunnycheetah · 5 months ago

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🐻🐆✨CHAPTER 1: HIT THE GROUND REDWOOD RUNNING✨🐆🐻

Note: this scene is an alternate version of the first part of EP5: redwood run, so some parts may be word for word but slightly adjusted. But don’t worry, the rest of the fic will be fully original work! ~Cherry!

Detective Percival King arrives at the Blyndeff Toy Emporium, parking her car nearby and stepping out of the vehicle. She’s seen this place before, yesterday actually, when she dropped off a little girl by the name of Molly Blyndeff. Percy began walking towards the building, the bell on the door jingling as she entered. She looked around.

Manning the register was actually Molly herself. Quietly counting the few bills in the register before putting them back in, Molly quickly hopped off the stool she was sitting on and waved at Percy.

“Good morning, detective!” Molly greeted her.

“Good morning to you too, Ms. Blyndeff.” Percy replied.

“Come sit down over here, I’ll get you something.” Molly gestured to the kiddie table before walking to the back.

Percy of course, obliged. Sitting down on a blue plastic chair that was far too small for her, she shifted a bit in her seat as she waited. Percy looks around the store.

It was filled to the brim with different sorts of toys, some even looked like they were handmade, but there were no customers around. Perhaps it was because it was early in the morning, but it gave a melancholic feel to the whole place. From the back of the store, Molly returned holding a toy tea set, setting it down on the plastic table.

“Sorry to keep you waiting…” Molly smiled awkwardly, sitting down.

“It’s quite alright.” Percy smiled back, and then she continued in a more professional tone. “Anyway, I must thankyou for taking the time to speak with me, Ms. Blyndeff.”

“Oh, it's no problem at all detective!” Molly stuttered, “You did help rescue me from the Banzai Blasters, after all… And uh… ‘Molly’s fine!”

“Very well, Molly. Please, call me ‘Percy’.”

“Okay... Uh… Would you like some tea, Percy?” Molly asks, holding up the toy teapot.

Yes, thank you. I was actually hoping I could ask you some questions concerning the events of yesterday night.”

Molly stands up, kettle in hand. “Of course, if you think I can help!” She walks over to Percys teacup, pouring some steaming earl grey tea.

Percys eyes widen a bit at this. “…Ah. I was expecting the make-believe tea, customary of play time.” Percy stares at her now filled teacup.

“I don't have time to play around, Detective.” Molly says in a dramatic voice, staring off outside the window.

“What a coincidence... Neither do I.” Percy responds in an equally dramatic voice, standing up and gently throwing a police file onto the table, the tea set rattles with a loud thud as it lands. Percy crosses her arms.

“I’ll bring you up to speed. Currently, the seven Banzai Blasters from the museum are still at large... As well as the amulet that they stole. I have been assigned to hunt them down.” Percy begins pacing around the room as she talks, a habit of hers.

“Unfortunately… the group's disorganization and general rapscallyhood makes them difficult to track.” She turns to Molly. I was hoping that you, as their hostage, might be able to give some insight on them, such as their names, or… preferred extracurricular activities?”

Mollys eyes widen with worry. “Oh! Um... I'll... see what I can remember!”

“Thank you, Molly!” Percy smiles. “Your testimony could prove vital! I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous these criminals are. Who's to say what devious doings they are committing, even now…” Percy stops pacing around the room, then realises she still has her tea waiting for her on the table.

“Ah, right. We can discuss over tea, after all it would be rude of me not to indulge in a bit of a refreshment.” Percy goes to politely sit back down, the chair squeaking as she does. “My only question is where the ‘crackers’ or ‘cookies’ as children call them are...”

“I don’t really like sweets…” Molly answers, sitting at her own chair. “Usually we only ever have candies or sweet stuff, are granola bars okay?” She rummages in her pockets and pulls out two leftover granola bars, she ate a few of these for breakfast today.

Percys eyes widen. “Why of course, granola bars are wonderful snacks that give proper nutrition and satiate hunger! But I am fine, I merely just asked due to the ‘tea time’ themeing of this meeting.”

Molly sputtered like a car running out of gas that’s seconds away from crashing into a tree. “No no no no it’s fine!Like I said earlier you helped save me from those Banzai Blasters so a bar of granola is the least I can do..!” She waved her arms around nervously, overexplaining herself to the detective. Before quieting down, then awkwardly sliding the granola bar across the table.

Percy takes it and looks at the label. “Deepwood bars… Heh, the only bars those Banzai Blasters will see is in jail!” Percy says to no one in particular, then taking off the wrapping paper as she continues. “So, speaking of the Banzai Blasters.”

Molly shrinks in her chair a bit, also eating the granola she was supposed to have for lunch. “Uh… Yeah… Them… Well, I think they had code names so I don’t think I have their actual names.”

“Ah, codenames. A devious thing indeed, hiding away your true nature under a disguise… Even then, codenames are also good leads. Can you remember any of them?” Percy asked.

“Well there were 7 of them so it was… Car something… Dark uh… Dark Sun? Bulldozer? I don’t really remember much, I was all busy this morning so I probably forgot. Sorry…” Molly sighed, this time she wasn’t just pretending to keep her boss safe. The whole museum incident had felt like a blur of nothing.

Percy furrowed her eyebrows, then realises she’s making an expression again, and her mouth goes into a soft smile.“It’s alright, what’s been troubling you?”

“Nothing, actually. Just the usual I do around the toy store… Making breakfast… Doing the dishes… Mostly just chores here.�� She takes a bite out of the granola bar and drinks the tea, pretty delicious if you ask her.

“I see… Do you think I could get to talk with your parent or guardian regarding this? Mostly asking about what they could’ve seen since I am assuming they came with you on your field trip.”

“Oh, my dad? Well I’m pretty sure he forgot me at the museum, he had my phone too. He’s also not really the type to… Pay attention to things” Molly’s tone turnt sour, looking away.

“Forgot you at the museum.” Percy finished her granola and tea, looking at the girl with a serious expression.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind! I guess I dozed off somewhere… haha..!” Molly faked a laugh and sweats nervously, she didn’t wanna worry the detective too much. “Anyway, since you’re finished with your tea and stuff you’re free to go. Don’t wanna take up all of your time on the investigation!”

“Of course, Molly. I do not wish to take up much of your time either. I suppose talking to your father will be for another time.” She quickly wipes her lips with a handkerchief.

“Nnnnnoooo problem detective- I mean Percy! Hopefully you can arrest those bad guys, yup!” Molly grins awkwardly, then gets up from her chair to clean up the play table.

Percy gets up as well. They both say their goodbyes as Percy grabs her stack of evidence off the table, then makes her way outside. She looks back at the building for a second, and takes a mental note to come back later.

She’s going to have a very, very busy week today.

INFO PAGE | NEXT >>

#BBAC AU | EPITHET ERASED #BBAC AU | WRITING #epithet erased AU #percy king #percival king #molly blyndeff #Epithet erased

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steddieunderdogfics · 3 months ago

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(i'll kep) my tongue behind my teeth by greatunironic

@greatunironic

Rating: Explicit

39,957 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator chose not to use

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Small Towns, Deaf/Hard of Hearing Steve Harrington, Rom com vibes, Minor Robin Buckley/Heather Holloway, Meet-Ugly, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Lack of Communication, (Cannot Emphasize Enough How Bad Steve Communicates In This), Mutual Pining, Service Top Steve Harrington, But Vague Illusions To, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, Good Boy Eddie Munson, Bottom Eddie Munson, Oral Sex, Rimming, Face-Sitting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Shot

Summary:

It’s some young guy,” she said. “Or, like, not super young. Our age, I think. Maybe a little older? From out of town. Or he is now, but used to be from here.” “What? Who is?” “That bought the Radioshack. Turning it into a bookstore? Some guy,” Robin continued. “That’s why Vickie even knows. They were trying to keep it all hush-hush because he didn’t want to buy it without, like, zoning permissions so he could do a full scale remodel to turn it into a bookstore. Otherwise he didn’t see a point, or so Vickie said Mrs Wheeler said.” Or: Steve owns a movie theater, and a bookstore moves in across the street.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Rom-Com AUs.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #theme weekend #rom com au #rated e #modern au #small towns #HOH steve harrington #meet ugly #misunderstanding #miscommunication #mutual pining

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sunnyshinesunshine · 3 months ago

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A Tolkien Fic Rec

let the gods look down on this and wonder by @dialux & rainforezt - Aredhel-centric, 22.5k, rated T (complete)

This post canon Valinor fic has everything. Aredhel being a flawed badass. Nolofinwean drama. Complex mother-daughter relationships. Come for female-focused Silm Fics, stay for Aredhel breaking Valinor while dealing with her family. Cannot recommend enough.

A Boy, A Girl, And a Dog: The Leithian Script posted to Ao3 by GammaCavy (originally by Philosopher At Large) - Lúthien/Beren, 593k, rated G (complete)

A retelling of the Lúthien and Beren in script form based vaguely on Ol’ Will Shakes. I rarely read true canon compliant works, but this is worth every heart wrenching second. It’s funny, poignant, and deserves to be produced as an actual production. I would pay money to see it.

Aurë entuluva - series by @theheirofashandfire - multi pairing mainly Fingon/Maedhros, 589.5k over 17 installments, rated G-M (ongoing)

THIS. This is The Silm Fix-It. Begins with A Thread Unraveled, a Nirnaeth Arnoediad Ground-Hog day style fix-it centered on Maedhros, then expands. The author does a great job with the politics and the fallout of the Nirnaeth being a success and how that changes the rest of the events of the Silm. I especially love her characterizations of Melian, Finduilas, Turgon, and all the Brothers Fëanor.

The Last Spring by clothonono on ao3 - Finwëan fam + background Fingon/Maedhros, 26.2k, rated G (complete)

This right here is how I imagine the Family Finwë pre-canon. Fëanor brings his children to visit Tirion for the first time. The tension between the children of Finwë is delicious. The characterization of Fëanor is delicious. The foreboding ending, also delicious. This could be an entire six course meal if it was edible. Also baby Galadriel is amazing and terrifying.

As a Star Upon a Hill by @mynameisjessejk - Lúthien/Beren & Fingon/Maedhros, 11.9k, rated T (complete)

A fix-it au where Celegorm and Curufin decide to not be assholes, Beren and Lúthien steal all three Silmarils, and everyone agrees that dads kinda suck. Borderline crack, but such a feel good fic ugh it makes me happy.

Light Touched by whovianhiddlestoner on ao3 - kidnap + peredhel fams, 48.9k, rated T (complete)

Another (relatively) lighthearted fic where everyone who touches the Silmarils get to be Eldritch and Elrond has a lot of family reunions. Mainly set in the third age, ending in Valinor. Beautiful language all around, and also Maedhros’ hair is on fire. Which is awesome.

The Iron Ring by lulumiche on ao3 - Glorfindel/Maeglin, 39.2k, rated M (ongoing)

Post-canon in Valinor. Maeglin was actually in love with Glorfindel, which no one but Idril knows. Come for the discussions of homophobie in elf society, stay for some of the realest feeling characterizations I have ever read. Seriously, I don’t really like Maglor as Lindir but I ate it up here. Also lots of interesting magic.

The Silver Rule by SpaceWall on ao3 - Celebrían/Elrond/Gil-galad, 70.4k, rated T (complete)

More post-canon Valinor shenanigans. This time, Celebrían argues law, makes friends, and wants her husband back. I love breaking Valinor, and I especially love when Tolkien women do it. And let’s be honest, the Statute of Finwë and Míriel is utter balogney.

I Do; I Will by @littlewhitemouseagain - Fingon/Maedhros, 22.8k, rated M (complete)

The one in which everyone is on their worst behavior and the sons of Fëanor challenge Fingon to duels over his crown. I cannot emphasize enough how this is The Fingon Fic. His flaws are exposed and addressed in such a way that I’ve never seen before. The insights into the Fëanorians, especially Mae, are also really super poignant. This deserves so much attention.

Across The Table by Tuginda on ao3 - Gimli/Legolas & Glorfindel/Erestor, 9.5k, rated G (complete)

A conversation between two couples at Aragorn and Arwen’s wedding. Beautiful, sweet, and containing one of my favorite things: crotchety old Fëanorian Erestor. Somehow feels like both a conversation about dwarves and elves, and a lovely tribute to the Noldor.

+ 1

of drowning men by bimmyou on ao3 - Isildur/Valandil, 26.5k, rated E (complete)

The best Rings of Power fic I’ve read so far. Nails all of Isildur’s character flaws and gives such an incredible depth to Valandil.

#fic rec #tolkien #silmarillion #elrond #maedhros #maglor #the rings of power #silm #lotr #russingon #luthien #Beren #Tolkien women #this took me forever #please appreciate #fanfiction #valandil #isildur

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vergess · 5 months ago

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Okay actually I would LOVE to hear your summary of what the Dresden Files like. actually is, as a series. Because every so often some guy will demand that I read it while insisting it's Superior Literature and the best fantasy series ever (unless maybe second to Lord of the Rings, but usually not even that)

They also like to insist that well of COURSE the main character is extra sexist and never improves but it's a FLAW, the AUTHOR knows it's wrong, therefore girls should LOVE reading his sexism. So like I was not buying this any degree to begin with, but I would love to know what's actually going on here

Bro, these books are Bad(tm). Do not fucking buy them. I cannot in good conscience suggest anyone read them, ever. But I especially, immensely cannot recommend purchasing them. This is "skulking around the library not making eye contact" material.

These are bodice rippers For Men(TM).

They're also, (and for obvious reasons they aren't advertised like this) High Camp Melodrama Fantasy Where Everyone Is Bisexual. But I repeat myself.

With that in mind, they are easily the best written urban fantasy fetish pornography I've ever seen outside AO3, and frankly better than most of that stuff too. It's just... you need to be aware going in that these are serialized porn mags. They happen to have exceptionally written combat and freakishly well considered fantasy elements, but they nonetheless use the same racial and sexual shorthands seen in the bulk of heteronormative, white gaze pornography.

Also, the main guy is an obnoxious asshole on purpose from second one and he does not ever let up on this, so if you don't immediately get along with his sense of humour walk away.

Now as for whatever dipshitted asshole is telling you they're superior literature.... mmmm.... no.

They're REALLY GOOD porn. I understand how really good porn is going to emotionally confuse the highly repressed (and oh BOY do these books appeal to the repressed) into a sort of pavlovian "this is the best thing ever" response.

But like, mmmmm no.

If you do elect to read these books, I suggest casting the main guy with a Black actor in your head. That change alone makes the immense amount of police presence and abuse more palatable.

OH THE COP SHIT

I FORGOT TO MENTION THE COP SHIT

Absolutely bonkers copaganda levels.

Also, the books were um.... progressive for 2005. They are not progressive for 2024. Let's put it like this; Supernatural (TV series) was a contemporaneous peer in the same genre. If you are damned set on subjecting yourself to one of these White Boy Monster Serials, pick this one at least it fucks.

Nevertheless, the writing is surprisingly charming, the Christian fantasy elements are genuinely competitive in a post-LOTR world, and the fetish shit is fucking immaculate.

I don't think Jim Butcher is aware he's written fetish porn, but whatever, he's REALLY good at it. I cannot recommend the sex scenes and the combat highly enough.

It's just unfortunate about the everything else.

Did I mention they're Christian fantasy elements? They are. They really really really aggressively are. These books are set in a Christian-centric universe and they do NOT let you forget that. There's like... so many Christian angels in this shit.

Anyway, if you choose to join me on this cursed journey (do not join me on this cursed journey), some other stuff to note:

Lots of underage and youth fetishism

Like, I cannot emphasize enough how hot and cool all The Youths think the Main Guy is and how aggressively the book lusts-and-guilts-in-turn over The Youths

So, so, SO much incest

Gay incest also

Mafia wedding guy is there, the guy from all the mafia wedding fics on wattpad, he's canonically the main guy's soulmate (no homo) (unless..?)

Main guy has too many soulmates btw, several are gay and some are blood relations, but most are muscular blonde women because he has a serious muscle fetish; fuckin gym gay behaviours

Undiagnosed bisexuality on the majority of the characters (I'm calling it; Jim Butcher thinks bisexuality is the normal POV and this is totally how Normal Guys talk about each other's dicks)

Exorbitant amounts of racism, some of which is "on purpose" and the most of which is horrifically unremarked upon; includes plenty of racial stereotypes. Nevertheless, the cast is diverse enough (outside the circle of main love interests) that these stereotypes can come up at all, so weigh that carefully

Special shoutout to the first major love interest, a Latina woman who dies spectacularly halfway through the series after having the main guy's secret baby

Extremely confusing relationship to psychosis as a mental illness

Melodrama that would make the desperate housewives sit back and stare

Fascinatingly good about homophobia actually, in that queerbaity 2005 way

*slaps the main guy like he's a car* You can fit so much dysphoria in this cis guy

In conclusion: I see why so many AMAB bisexuals of various genders who were part of the target demo latched the fuck on to this series so hard. I myself was fooled into believing these books were "for" Straight Men, and to be clear they are. But they're also Pulpy Gay Camp Bullshit that we the faggots of the world deserve to mutilate and recreate in our own image.

Together, I believe we could fix them.

Oh right, the plot:

The Main Guy, Harry Dresden, is a private detective Wizard Cop (serial plot is investigation based) who may also be the chosen one destined to defeat some elder gods (long term plot), and along the way starts several major supernatural wars and at least 2 arms races.

#Asks #Answered asks #firecoloredwater #The Dresden Files #I could fix him (the series)

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wanderingblindly · 2 months ago

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The new October Birds chapter is lovely (and you are too for writing such a gorgeous fic)!

Any behind the scenes information you want to share about it? Sentences that didn't make it in or oscar POV moments that can't get told from the fic's POV?

- Snippet Anon

(october birds)

oh my goodness thank you so much darling! Chapter two was one that I initially felt very little confidence in (I think I sent it to like, three people to see if the vibe matched the first one even remotely), so the response it's garnered has absolutely floored me. I literally cannot say thank you enough 😭💖

There were fewer things that stumped me in ch2 than in ch1, thank fuck lol. But there's one scene that I really did struggle with, and one key Oscar moment I haven't seen anyone comment on yet!

New Years

Ok so when I was originally picturing the new years scene, I wanted it to be with small fireworks on the beach. Then I rubbed my two (2) braincells together and realized that A) Perth is literally not near the beach at all for the sake of a midnight trip B) fireworks are super illegal in Tas. So that was very fun for me.

That then posed a big question of 'where the fuck are they meant to go?'.

At first I considered seeing if they could reasonably find a viewpoint of the Launceston or Hobart fireworks shows, since those are close enough to be feasible. But then I was like 'fuck, Lando had the anxiety moment about not going into the city, idk if there's really a place that would be isolated enough AND in view of the fireworks'.

After spending a lot of time on google maps, I found a viewpoint that was quite lovely: Max's Lookout in Nunamara, Tasmania. It's about a 40 minute drive away, and I could embellish the details to sell The Fantasy that I was picturing -- delightful!

In terms of the actual Event, the parts that I rewrote the most were the details around Oscar offering Lando his hand. It was difficult to both keep the "swept up in the moment" feeling and emphasize the tentativeness, the hesitation. I struggled a lot with figuring out how Lando would feel in that moment, especially because he'd technically already touched Oscar's hand before in Feast -- was this different enough for him to be affected? Was it similar enough to feel familiar? Was it scary, exciting, unremarkable?

Oh, and I had to google how to open a beer bottle with another bottle + your heel; I knew it was possible, I've just never had beer before lol.

Oscar and Lando's "Anxiety Attack"

Oscar's eyes flick overhead, taking in the fiery orange blossoms hanging from above. His under-eyes are more hollow than usual, the blue tint almost leaning purple in the early-morning light.

Oscar heard Lando in the kitchen.

In a different version of the scene, I actually had Oscar come out and try to help Lando, but then I realized it was far too early. Chapter 2 Lando is only beginning to peek out of his shell -- any intense display of emotion embarrasses him, he tries to talk himself out of them and pretend "it's fine" or that it's something he'll make himself "get over". Having Oscar come in at that point would have been mortifying for Lando, and waaaaaay more vulnerable than he's willing to be.

Of course I could decide that as the writer, but what was Oscar thinking about?

I have a really strong image of Oscar waking up to the sound of Lando's door closing, or maybe him falling against the oven door more forcefully than he thought (Lando's not the most reliable narrator at that point). And as Oscar jumps to go see what's happened, he hears it -- Lando's sobbing, his panic.

His hand would hover over the door handle.

At this point, based on what Oscar knows, Lando's clinically standoffish. He's clearly upset, but he doesn't want to say why -- even though he didn't deny his assertion that he wants someone to ask.

But would going and asking now be too much too soon? Too little too late? If he makes the wrong decision now, is he going to lose whatever opening Lando's worked open thus far?

He chooses not to go because he doesn't want to risk over stepping, but he can't sleep once he's heard it; Oscar gets as little sleep that night as Lando, and that's why he was awake so early. He heard him leave for his run.

There were a few specific things I cut from this chapter that I miiiiiight repurpose later, so I'll keep those to myself, just in case :)

#thank you so so so so so so much for asking me angel <3333333 #I have so many thoughts about this version of lando and oscar they mean so much to me lol #and. so much of what oscar says is just lowkey from my own life. oopsies.#ask me :)#october birds

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spirk-trek · 8 months ago

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idk if you would be into this BUT! i read your ask about tumblr archeology and i simply have to contribute this fic.

called observations, accessible here https://anon-j-anon.livejournal.com/30674.html, it’s essentially a book (i think like 200k words lol) written in 2009 that puts the AOS characters in the TOS deep space mission. a lot of the episodes are rewritten with their new counterparts— city on the edge of forever, arena, operation: annihilate!, what are little girls made of, so many more. it’s narrated by spock (his “observations” serving under jim) and definitely is a spirk fic, but i cannot emphasize enough how well it is written. contains math, philosophy, art discussions, and just has AMAZING characterizations into all of the cast (not just jim and spock but added depth into characters like chekov and chapel).

in my book it’s one of those “fandom foundational texts” but since it’s posted to livejournal, not ao3, i fear it’s kinda died off! but it is SUCH a good work i’m considering my duty as a star trek fan to spread it around. figured i would share it with you since you seemed interested in fandom revival!

hello friend! i've been working through this since you sent it and WOW. i can't believe the author saw star trek '09, went home, cracked their knuckles, and chose to write an ENTIRE K/S NOVEL. every day i'm blessed to have chosen star trek as my lifelong hyperfixation because i am treated SO WELL by other creators. thanks to them and thanks to you for sharing ♥

anyway. thoughts!

this fic is in such a unique format (first officer logs, spock's first person POV). i'll be honest that it takes some getting used to but i recommend giving it a shot! it really works with the story being told. like, really works.

for the sake of warning my fellow TOS and jim obsessed freaks, this is 110% AOS kirk. what i mean is that, personally, i don't tend to enjoy the hard, angry version of jim that's always watching his back and on edge... so if you're like me, this fic might make you wince a little at first. there's swearing and defensiveness right off the bat that i do not associate with the beloved version of james t kirk who lives inside my soul.... BUT.

but but but! i have still enjoyed what i've read so far! i think that really speaks to how thorough and simply enjoyable the writing is. jim is not out of character for AOS- in fact, he's incredibly in character and well written.

i can't express how much it means to me that you dropped this into my inbox! i never ever would have found it otherwise and although it might take me a while, i'm looking forward to finishing it in it's entirety :)

here is the direct link if anyone would like to check it out!!!

#fic rec #spirk fanfiction #fan fiction #fandom revivial #spirk fic rec #spirk #fandom #the premise #k/s #star trek aos #star trek tos #fanfiction #star trek fanfic #star trek fic rec #star trek fanfiction #star trek

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blackstargazer · 1 month ago

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kys<3

Firstly, if you’re gonna tell someone “kys” say it with your chest, don’t hide behind an anonymous wall, coward.

Secondly, I can only assume that this was in response to my response to your unsolicited opinion on the wonderful piece @wormvirtues drew.

If that is the case, please note that it is entirely valid for you to have a differing opinion on the piece. Not everyone enjoys the same art, same works, same content as others and that is okay. You have your preferences and they don’t align with the work that was created.

What is not valid is you coming into an artist’s space after they spent hours working diligently to create something that wasn’t even for you and shit all over it because you didn’t enjoy it.

Lastly, here are some key etiquette lessons that can help you tremendously in your travels through fandom spaces:

1. Your Kink is Not My Kink (And That’s Okay!): More commonly known as the Kink Tomato! It means exactly what it says. You may not have a size difference kink, however there are many people that do. You wouldn’t want to be shamed for something you enjoy that others might not, right? So please don’t shit directly on someone’s work whether it be art, videos, or fics because you saw/read something you didn’t care for. It’s not for you and that’s fine, just keep on scrolling until you find something you like.

2. Don’t like, don’t read: Now, I realize this is mildly different because it’s art and it’s not like you can just unsee it, however, you can still acknowledge that this was not for you and again, just scroll on by.

3. Golden Rule (treat others as you would want to be treated): imagine you spend hours possibly days working on a piece, whether written, drawn, or recorded. You’ve put so much care and effort into this gift for a friend for their birthday because you care about them right? You want to show them how special they are to you, and then someone comes along and says it wasn’t good enough for them, that the characters you’ve created don’t match their perception and not only that but they try to shame you for ever having written/drawn/portrayed such a thing that was borne from love. Just because the creator put it out there for others to enjoy doesn’t mean it’s your job to ‘police’ their works. If you don’t like it, it’s not necessary for you to ruin a creator’s day by telling them how much you didn’t like it. Just scroll on by, find something you do like, and give that creator some love.

Which brings me to my last point:

4. Don’t comment if you have nothing positive to say: Artists/Cosplayers/Writers/etc aren’t looking for your criticism (unless specifically asked). They’re putting out their work in hopes that people will like it, and when people come into their dms/comments/public blogs/spaces giving unsolicited criticism on work that (I cannot emphasize enough) was not for them, it is incredibly fucking rude and discouraging and there is no place for that kind of behavior in public spaces (especially on the creator’s blog).

Please keep in mind that the people you are engaging with on the internet are not just avatars but living breathing human beings, just like yourself. They have thoughts and feelings and a desire to create and just because it isn’t something you enjoy, doesn’t mean you have to shit on then for having the “audacity” to create and post something not to your liking.

Side note: When you gain some maturity (please see your anonymous ask), I am open to discussing differences in opinion on kinks/preferences within the fandom, because as I stated before everyone is entitled to their opinions and views as to how they see characterizations. Just don’t shit on people because their opinions differ from yours and especially don’t shit on creators who have made a thing free of charge for others’ viewing pleasure. It is easy to have a conversation about how you view characters differently when you keep an open mind that your preferences may not align. <3

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 8 months ago

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I honestly cannot recall where I heard this, it could have been a comment or part of the fic, but the idea was that in TMWWBK if Tom had the chance to go back in time he'd take Lily before she even went to Hogwarts to really bring out her potential.

How would that go, you reckon? Would he just show up at Alphard's place with Lily, saying she's his new apprentice while omitting the fact he basically kidnapped her?

The Man Who Would Be King by me and @therealvinelle

Alphard mentions it in the disastrous Order meeting he and Lily attended where he noted that if Tom had his way, Lily wouldn't have attended Hogwarts at all where they'd teach her how to hold a wand wrong and that for Tom it makes sense to make her learn what to a wizard is fucking Muggle gibberish.

That said, it was an offhand comment Alphard didn't really think through nor have to. Tom would do it... but it'd get a little convoluted.

Tom Kidnaps an Eleven-Year-Old (Or Not)

I imagine he does not kidnap Lily because a) what the fuck would he do with an eleven-year-old b) he doesn't have to. I imagine what he does is he shows up after Lily's eleventh birthday and Lily's gotten the "yer a witch" spiel from McGonagall and says, "Hello parents, would you like an option where your daughter doesn't go to this magic school but learns how to control her powers and gets a five-star education?"

We don't see enough of Lily's parents to know how thrilled they were about her going to Hogwarts. We know that Lily ultimately went and that Petunia at least at the time wrote begging to go, we know Lily was stupid with displaying her magical abilities so the idea that their daughter was telekinetic/whatever you want to call it wasn't out of left field for them, but we don't know if it was something they liked the idea of. Given how Hogwarts is presented, could be her parents thought this was an opportunity she'd never otherwise get (the description of Spinner's End does not lend itself to the idea that Lily would have been attending a prestigious boarding school otherwise). Could be they were prepared from whatever Lily had learned from Snape and told them in turn (though we don't know how much that was/if it was much of anything). Could be they thought "you know, this is a great opportunity for Lily to learn how to control her weird psychic abilities that we clearly don't know what to do with" which is only emphasized by McGonagall.

However, the fact of the matter is that they're proposing sending Lily to the middle of nowhere Scotland, to a school that her parents are not allowed to visit or even see under any circumstances, where she'll learn nothing they're familiar with, and Lily won't be able to tell them much if at all. Oh, and they'll have a hard time even taking Lily to get her supplies because their world is built purposefully to exclude people without magic and make their lives as difficult as possible.

Regardless, good-looking Tom who happens to run into them in Diagon Alley and is advertising his tutoring/home schooling services, does a bang up job scaring the shit out of them about what can happen at Hogwarts (severe bullying, high death/injury rate, the Muggle-born problem, the fact that classes are kind of tailored to the lowest common denominator and not the best achievers)/what will likely happen to Lily when she graduates (0 prospects). By using Tom to homeschool her, Lily can continue to pursue her Muggle schooling, stay at home, and learn at a faster pace than Hogwarts will teach her.

(Lily, of course, will likely be mortified and horrified because here she and Severus have been so excited to go to Hogwarts, she really is a witch, this cool castle sounds great and now Severus is going without her, is telling her how stupid her parents are being, and Lily will be the only witch in the country not attending Hogwarts.)

On the off chance the parents still do send Lily, Tom probably doesn't do anything, but does offer to tutor during the holidays/summer. "I can totally get around that 'no magic' rule as an official instructor" which is actually true because the 'no magic' rule has hilariously terrible enforcement that's practically useless.

So, even if she goes (and she probably still will), the family/Lily certainly wouldn't say no to being able to practice magic over the summer and get ahead of her peers (as she's starting behind as a Muggle-born).

(Yes, eleven-year-old Severus hates Lily's stupid hot tutor that she doesn't even need/shouldn't have. He also hates that Lily increasingly notes that her stupid hot tutor is really smart and that they're covering material way outside the curriculum, and she thinks they're not actually learning much in Hogwarts in retrospect.)

Tom though would either halt his Voldemort activities completely (as there's a chance, he could accidentally blow-up future apprentice and he has all the time in the world anyway) or else make sure Lily is very very very far away from them. Given he'd need something of a double-life though, I imagine he'd put it on hold/not really start things up so that he, as Tom Riddle, can have come back from abroad to do this tutoring gig (and conveniently check back in with Alphard earlier).

I imagine this does end up with Tom getting more than one student to stay afloat, and he hates it so much.

#harry potter #the man who would be king #tom riddle #lily evans #meta #vinelle #therealvinelle

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loisinherlane · 9 months ago

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Gen Fic Recs

Here are some of my fave gen fics for mostly comics. Please give them some love, as gen fics are routinely underlooked. <3

Rex Racer on the Final Turn by GrayJay - X-Men (Comics) - A epistolary fic based on 616 canon, focusing on the Summers brothers. It's very long and detailed and fits neatly into canon while updating to modern tech. I cannot emphasize enough how much I love this one.

You're the Comeback Kid by ryoukootonashi - DCU (Comics) - Roxy Leech + Kon, about Roxy reacting to Kon's death. A nice focus into a relationship DC has neglected for years.

Sure on this shining night by mediant - DCU (Comics) - Lots of good stuff from the Superfam Secret Santa, but this one sticks out for digging into Kryptonian customs. I just adore it.

a window opens up (someone calls your name) by sheikahs - DCU (Comics) - A post-Mercury Falling Thad redemption. For those of you who know, I don't think I need to say more. But I just loved the premise, and it was so, so good.

The Irredeemable Beast by OhMyStarsAndGarters - X-Men (Comics) - A fic which reconciles Hank McCoy's previous characterization with all the stuff that's happened in recent years. If you liked Hank McCoy and want a good story following modern comics, this is for you. It's still a WIP, but I've been loving it.

how big, how blue, how beautiful by merils - DCU (Comics) - Friend fic <3 but also listen to Rimi, Ph.D. in Kon about his trauma and enjoy the Clark + Kon dynamic. No one gets Clark + Kon like Rimi.

Family Ties by SolidCoffee - TMNT - Another friend fic, but Raph as a dad with family drama. It's so much fun and complex, and I love Jamie's attention to detail.

PLUS a self-plug

Right to Remain Silent - DCU (Comics) - Focuses on an outsider POV of what happens after Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van send their son away.

#megan moments #okay i probably missed some but i'm bad at keeping track of things SO

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kholnt · 4 months ago

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I just wanted to say how much I looooooovvveeee your Lost Link fic! I love the idea of what would happen if Wild remembered his past. I wanted to know how you think his knight training went? I definitely think that it was a terrible experience that gave him a whole wagon full of horrible coping mechanisms and bad habits(and from where the fic is going, I'm guessing you think similarly), but I wanted to know how you thought his training went. Anyway, just wanted to say how much I appreciate and love your work, Thank You!

WAAAH THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!!! (but give all of the writing credit to @/eponatheestallion <33 cannot emphasize that enough) BUT! you basically got it in one! his knight training was NOT kind to him in the slightest. i mean, even with the canon material we HAVE it still doesn't particularly spell a good time. (staring at mipha, zelda and purah's diaries respectively. and creating a champion. and possibly aoc but thats a different timeline + i barely know anything abt it so its there In Spirit) i will warn you that this ones gonna be long bc botw diaries TEND TO BE YAP SESSIONS! AND im a yapper so i'll just give you the tldr:

lost's knight training was abhorrent for his mental health and plays into a LOT of his mannerisms and why he is the way he is

ANYWAY! i'll just talk abt things that have been established either in the au or in botw canon :) any blanks you can fill on your own

as for canon things heres some things that stood out to me (formatted to be paragraphs for my sanity):

"A youth named Link was brought to me a hundred years ago, covered in wounds and on death's doorstep. Link… So young, yet so courageous. He was the youngest knight to have ever been appointed to the Imperial Guard at Hyrule Castle. He was also a gifted swordsman who was selected as captain of Princess Zelda's personal guard. I thought his skills would be enough to defeat Ganon in glorious fashion…

It was the best we could do…" -Purah's Diary

~~~~~

"When I finally got around to asking why he's so quiet all the time, I could tell it was difficult for him to say. But he did. With so much at stake, and so many eyes upon him, he feels it necessary to stay strong and to silently bear any burden.

A feeling I know all too well… For him, it has caused him to stop outwardly expressing his thoughts and feelings. I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was… Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world… I was so absorbed with my own problems, I failed to see his." -Zelda's Diary ~~~~~

"At the request of Hyrule's king, a group of outsiders came to greet us at the domain. One of them was a Hylian child of only about four years of age. His name was Link. He made quite a first impression. He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile. Are all Hylian children that way?

One thing that surely sets him apart is his swordsmanship, which I hear is exceptional. He has even bested adults. He must be somewhat reckless, however, as he was covered in bruises. Wishing to be helpful, I healed his wounds for him." ~~~~~

"Link came to visit the domain. It feels like forever since he was here last. He no longer resembles the child I first met. He is now an accomplished knight and keeper of the sword that seals the darkness. I am so proud. However… He hardly speaks anymore, and smiles even more rarely. He is still the kind soul I knew, but something has changed.

I asked him if something had happened, if something was wrong. He merely shook his head. Perhaps it is his newly acquired height, but I feel he is ever looking past me, into the distance beyond…" -Mipha's Diary

~~~~~ "The details of how Link obtained the sword a hundred years ago have been lost to the mists of time, but since he was in possession of it for a number of years prior to becoming a Champion, he was likely around twelve or thirteen years old when it happened."

~~~~~

"After the Champions for the Divine Beasts were chosen, there was an incident at Hyrule Castle. A Guardian went berserk during a test run. Link deftly defeated it, earning himself a great deal of recognition. Impressed, King Rhoam made him Princess Zelda's appointed knight. With no regard for his own personal safety, he loyally fulfilled his duty to guard Princess Zelda with his life." -Creating a Champion

(there will be another thing later but its separated for a Reason.) ANYWAY! these are like. BIG things in canonical material that I feel like are important, especially if they're highlighted. i'm not really going to elaborate much since its kind of spelled out already but i'll say a few things nonetheless (also for consistencies sake i'm going to say lost but do know this ALSO applies to wild) he was the youngest knight appointed in history. like even that alone is FUCKED??? i don't remember if it was something in canon, fanon or something kay n i made up (but it doesnt rlly matter since its canon to the lost hero au ANYWAY!) but he became a knight at TWELVE soon after pulling the sword. then proceeded to become a royal guard at 17. this is a kid surrounded by adults in a generally Unsafe Environment, that alone is enough for some level of fucked. ill explain the "hes been training since he was four" later since i have Thoughts about that, but on a unrelated note do notice that mipha makes the assumption that lost is reckless and not through actually seeing him being clumsy. hyrulean guard when i get you now, to me the vow of silence was something that stemmed from before the calamity and started up in his training. because thats a twelve year old being forced to be a hero when he never got the choice to. OBVIOUSLY hes going to shut down. again, this will be expanded upon later also. lost is canonically self sacrificial. VERY self sacrificial. no further comments, just saying OKAY. NOW ITS LATER BC ITS TIME TO YAP ABT THE "inspired by canon but like. its canon plus." canon is bent in specific ways bc the way link is characterized (in cac specifically) makes him very uh,,,, inhuman i suppose. i love looking at scenarios where decisions have consequences, and it's that specific reason why i enjoy "what if" aus so much.

yes, lost was still trained when he was four. no it was not formally. to me, lost had an interest in swordsmanship because his dads a knight! hes going to be exposed to at least a little bit at an early age. he was insistent on wanting to learn, so with the power of sticks, pot lids, and a lot of positive reinforcement, he learned how to do the movements of swordfighting. he'd never been given a proper sword until the guard brought him to zora's domain. lost's dad never wanted to force the position of hero onto him, so he never gave him a sword. everyone knows that he's the hero except him, and lost's dad would rather keep it that way until he's old enough to climb mount lanayru (it happens much earlier than that) now abt the fucking "According to tales told by the long-lived Zora, Link visited Zora's Domain when he was younger and formed a bond with them, defeating a Lynel and teaching various skills to Zora children. This story sheds light on both his physical abilities and his strength of character." from creating a champion just like. isn't canon in this. the only other recorded time lost fought a lynel in zoras domain was when he was already zelda's guard and he was not younger. so by proxy it must've been when he was four WHICH ISN'T HAPPENING SORRY GUYS!!!! i'm not having a four year old fight a lynel hero or not!!!! it's referenced in lost hero canon (the soldiers accompanied made jokes and tried to egg lost on but it got shut down real quick since a. his dad was there and b. literally anyone who have thinking caps would go "yeah um... no actually!") and now its fanon time :))) when lost was in the army, he was usually trained separately from the other knights, mostly because of skill difference. as a CHILD he was able to clear soldiers, he needed different training period. as for the actual formal training, it was extremely strict. terrible conditions stemmed from an awful reward "system" (that usually led to lost being extremely fatigued and starting an endless loop of punishment. there is a reason why lost can push through awful conditions: hes used to it) all blanketed with the justification of "he's the hero of hyrule." they trained him to be a weapon, not a person. he doesn't have a sense of self nor an identity outside of "hero" "champion" or "weapon." things like "brother" got stripped from him when he joined the academy. they didn't bother with setting up a future for him. he eventually figures his shit out but thats YEARS down the line, and even then he's still suffering from this,,,, self objectification? idk how else to describe it when he wasn't getting grilled for "not swinging his sword hard enough" or having his foot a centimeter off even though he hasnt had the privilege of Basic Necessities To Survive in (insert timeframe) he was usually doing something in the coliseum. as it turns out, having the hero show off in front of an audience by fighting a lynel (or multiple) is a GREAT money maker! shame he wasnt usually told beforehand!

being forced into heroism is a big reason as to why hes the silent knight. he never wanted this. being separated from his family (whom of which i have Many thoughts about. same for his childhood honestly) and surrounded by strangers who have no care for who he is but rather what he stands for was absolutely awful, and only made worse by his age. being silent and just dealing with it is how he coped, and its eventually going to boil over (just give it a few years) his knight training was one of THE worst things to happen to him, right under failing to save his kingdom and inadvertently being the cause of hyrule's demise. it's the reason why he acts the way he does. he wasn't allowed to forget, so instead it influences almost everything he does, says and thinks. SO YEAH IT WASNT A GOOD TIME

#khol.txt #khol.pdf #live loz reaction #linked universe #loz #legend of zelda #lost lu #its VERY possible that i missed some shit that isnt just directly yapping abt lost's family but theres the gist of it #awful conditions made worse bc its a kid whos the subject of it

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angelicyoongie · 4 months ago

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hi ^^

I'm finally more concretely baaaack!! & I finally found time to properly dedicate to your amazing work!!

how are u doing? summer basically finishing so I hope you'll enter last days of summer/early autumn well rested, healthy & w/ no regrets <333

I finally caught up to Abundance & i'm soooo happyyy, i've missed this fic soo much xd

every ch left me w/ so many thoughts, sooo much excitement & just an overall sense of satisfaction at how smooth & rewarding your writing style & narration style are!

so i may ramble a lil bit abt it now if u don't mind XD (u don't have to read all of it or reply btw, no pressure ;D )

1st of all i wanna recognise how usually it's harder to keep tabs on multiple characters, even more if they are all important & heavily involved in the plot (esp in ff that are poly or w/ multiple different kinds of relationships & relations between characters ) but you've done nothing but a great job at handling this! each character gets their time, their moments, their own space & pace for development & involvement in the plot & it all feels very balanced!

definetely not in order '^^

i also wanna scream at the idea of the pack-mark?? i thought i loved already the hybrid concept but this just elevated it o the next level! & the difference in the mark being platonic or romantic & it being also different from the concept of mate-mark?? i can't wait to see how this puzzle piece fits into the canines arrangement in the future

returning to the 1st point, to strenghten my love w/ your writing style there's also the way u write the mc!! istg i'm this close to start crushing on her instead lmaoo. no but the way u wrote her feels way more natural & genuine than an air-head type or a perfect-never-makes-mistakes literal angel type, she feels like an actual proper developed character that is human & obvi makes mistakes but that is also a good person that has a pretty strong sense of responsability/duty, is very mature & level headed (finally an mc that doesn't behave/think like a 12 y.o lmao). i love how even tho she still learning & doesn't know everything already, she always tries to take the better choice either based on her judgement or by seeking to learn more abt the hybrids by asking them directly, w/out shame or fear to ask them abt themselves & hybrids in general.

wrds cannot emphasize enough how grateful i am that she’s not simply just flustered all the time & getting ping-ponged by the guys, she is her own person 1st & takes srsly her own responsibilities & actually wants to treat them as just any other human person while also accommodating & recognising their diff hybrid needs instead of just being all a condescending “omg, they’r so hot, omg their so cute” all the time. she wants to learn & respect their natural instincts & doesn’t fault them 4 having them but also wants them to wrk through the ones that may be harmful to others around them.

onto the last point above, i can't help but appreciate the constant in the story of hybrids not being able to simply wish away their strongest instincts or miraculously gain control over them simply bc of their love 4 mc’s .NO, there is an actual learning curve & episodes of dealing w/ shame,guilt & sense of helplessness, of predators feeling uncomfortable at feeling or having felt certain instincts as their relations w/ the preys change & evolve( as an example)

but at the same time in the build up of the story, the hybrids instincts are never used as plot device to excuse/justify actions that cross the limit (incidents/hybrid on hybrid crimes, agression, violence & the fact that even tho jin & jk were in rut/pre-rut, they were still adamant abt respecting mc boundaries & consent & not " get their way" & simply blame it on “instinct”bs .-. that was refreshing to see lmao)

in your wrld building, i really love how u handled the characterisation of the roles of prey & predator in hybrids & didn't go w/ just usual/easier expected stereotypical depictions. even tho there’s a difference between predators & prey, they still clearly have a consciousness & an important inner emotional reaction at seeing 1st person the reality of prey hybrids, they’s not just animals & they’s not just jerks/assholes, they are actual ppl that had each their own struggles, traumas & lessons & that up until now where only used to relying on their pack to survive or themselves (case of rogues etc) & drive off anybody else to stay safe but not all of them would go out of their way to hurt prey hybrids, it depends on the personal level & not all of them will be swayed off their feet & fall head over heels for the 1st prey hybrid they interact w/, w/out even getting to know them & later trust them & develop normally a closeness to them.

talking abt trust...

after the nth hurt, esp the predators(namjoon,jimin) have learned to surround themselves w/ walls & to not get attached easily & it’s very interesting to see their different inner fights in trying to let go of that while also struggling w/ the need to still feel safe & in control, 2 things that ‘till now they got by keeping to themselves & to their packs.

& although there have been multiple instances in which nj starting doubting mc or started feeling that safety slip away & started pulling back, or jimin & the others were in denial to their own feelings & pull to get closer to other hybrids outside of the pack & lower their guard, after a pretty difficult process & many mistakes it’s slowly starting to happen!! at a pace that i’m sooooo glad u actually took time & effort to develop in a way that feels very natural & curated! i’m sure that it’s not easy to write like this at all & every ch is different & sometimes the wrds don’t feel right or they don’t come etc but i’m just so incredibly happy that u continued to persevere through that in this fic bc the results are a damn masterpiece!!

ALSO,TESTIMONY TO YOUR SHARP & AMAZING WRITING SKILLS:

i nearly lost my mind at your description of nj inner turmoil w/ primary colours(blue & yellow) that clash & then merge into his confused uncomfortable state (murky green) . i literally kept re-reading that part bc it was just sooo pretty 😭

...tumblr doesn't have yellow so let's just pretend XD

& the subtle hints & nj fear of repeated rejection? i’m not sure if maybe i’m interpreting it wrong & it’s not smth that he already had to deal in the past but i’m looking forward regardless.

& the way no part of the plot gets neglected?? hello? bc while all of this is going on w/ the hybrids, mc’s life outside of this bubble is taking turn after turn w/ her wrk & it’s getting sooo interesting,soo intriguing w/ all the dots connecting & the mystery getting bigger & more rabbit-holey😍😍😍

& can i just say that i never trusted hajoon from the beginning?!!! his reaction to mc saying they don’t investigate money laundering bc it’s more of a “officer/investigator” job & him finding it amusing almost like he knows she’s technically already doing that w/ the other company but she just confirmed that the law firm can’t find the necessary info by themselves so other ppl get involved like investigators & informants …. & then the overlap of the 2 cases?? the cliffhanger?? the 3 names popping up again?? & she might have fallen into a trap & just fed hajoon the ones that might have worked w/ her to testimony against the shady company involved in hybrid trafficking... or actually hajoon found a way to frame those 3 to make it harder 4 their testimony to be believable in case they get involved to help mc w/ her case against Lim's. or maybe it's smth else entirely & i'm off my rails XD

we still don't know that much abt hajoon or mc's informant & there's always the possibility of a mole being at the law firm, maybe even somebody that knows mc closely, doesn't attract much attention & regularly looks through files,appointments & schedules😳 now i'm just freely speculating off my head XD

lastly bc i don't wanna exaggerate w/ the walls of rambling (might be too late tho so srry abt that😅), i'm absolutely knees deep infatuated w/ the little details/quirks/facets of personality u give each hybrid:

namjoon's intimidating edge being softened thanks to his clumsiness & puppy-like moments, jin's softer & more attentive way of subtly asserting his role as alpha/hyung, tae's simple often straightforward natural sweetness & inclination of being curious & playful, hobi's unexpected strenght & comforting sweet personality that often acts as a damper in intense moments, jk's perseverance towards more indipendency & his struggles w/ self-worth, jimin's stark contrast between how he carries himself in front of others & his own inner insecurities & fears of abandonment, yoongi's new perspective on love & it simply adding up not substracting at admitting his crush on jin & helping jimin accept his own changes in his emotions & feelings toward the other hybrids.

i have soooo many more but i don't wanna push it😫

in the end i just hope u had lots of fun & feel proud of how this series is turning out! obvi as always no pressure & make sure to take your time & continue writing when & as long as it feels right^^

hello!! thank you so much, i'm doing well 🥺 i hope the beginning of autumn is treating you well too! i'm sorry it took me so long to reply to this ask but the truth was that i didn't want to share it just yet, lol 😭 this ask arrived in my inbox just as i was trying (and failing) to begin writing for abundance again. i kept psyching myself out, thinking that my break had been too long and i wouldn't be able to capture the essence of the characters anymore – so what was even the use of trying if i was only going to fail? but then this popped into my inbox and it just made me feel so.. seen. you pointed out and acknowledged so many aspects of the story that i love and feel proud of, and it was truly the boost i needed. i've been coming back to this almost every day as i've been writing, so i just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart 💖💖

i will say that having eight main characters is a puzzle that doesn't always line up, but i do try my best to make up for it whenever i can! if a character isn't very prominent in one ch, it's likely that they'll get more attention in the next or that i'm "saving" them for a bigger scene that needs more build up. but i'm glad you think i'm going a good job at juggling all of them, tysm :')

i always try to think of ways to add a little something extra to my stories, something that makes it feel like it's not just a direct copy of every other fic in that trope. dividing the boys into predator/prey packs and giving them different marks (platonic/romantic) was such a 'simple' but effective way of introducing a lot of drama and conflict into the story. i'm a slow burn girlie at the end of the day and i knew that the pay off of all of the packs becoming one would be that much sweeter if they actually started off truly disliking each other and not just becoming lovey dovey after two chapters.

i'm honestly so ecstatic that you love the MC so much, that makes me so happy!! it's taken some trial and error, but i've tried my best to create a MC/reader that makes realistic choices and is someone that the majority might be able to see themselves in. she's not perfect, she makes mistakes and she feels horrible when she does, but she also tries to fix things when she messes up and doesn't just expect them to work out on their own. it just doesn't make sense to have an MC that knows everything about hybrids when she's never owned one before (or really had any interest in them) so part of the challenge for her is to actually learn about their needs in relation to who they are as people and not just assume that she knows best because she's fully human.

thank you!! i've really tried to balance the human and animal part of them as much as possible in this fic. they may have instincts and knee-jerk reactions to situations that are fueled by their animal DNA but that doesn't mean that their human brain completely checks out. it was important to me to show that much like the MC, hybrids can have prejudice too, and that they can learn & grow over time. i'm so happy that you pointed out the fact that their instincts are never used to excuse their actions – that was one thing i didn't want to happen. like i said, they're just as much human as they are animal, so it's not a valid reason for them to ignore morals or boundaries.

yes! i didn't just want to slap a predator label on some of them and go "okay, you guys are scary and mean" and make the preys meek and docile for the entire story. they still have individuality and personality regardless of if they're classified as predator or prey. they have all had different experiences that have shaped them into who they are but that doesn't make them heartless or incapable of change. the predators have never noticed how much their biology affects prey hybrids until they met jinkook, so it makes sense that their guilt would eventually catch up with them when they stop thinking of the preys as competition that needs to be eliminated.

trust is a big part of this fic and it manifests in so many different ways! they're all finally beginning to open up and understand that they're safe, and i think it's especially satifisfying to see namjoon and jimin finally let their walls down :') there were times that i was worried i was going to slow but i really do think that this pace was necessary - there was just too much that needed to be unpacked and adressed for it to happen any sooner. and no, it has definitely not been easy, but it does feel more than worth it when i get such a lovely review as this 😭

i'm so happy you pointed out that scene with joon, bc i really liked using the colours to represent his emotions!! and you're not interpreting it wrong, it's definitely a big fear for him!

i know that most readers are only here for the boys and not so much the mc's work, but i really do think it adds to the story! there are some connections coming up that have been slowly been hinted at throughout the story so far, so i'm excited for that to come together soon. hajoon is very sus and you're right in not trusting him 🙈 i'm not going to say what it is exactly, but you are indeed on to something regarding the case 👀

i can't have my babies be one-dimensional! i put a lot of thought into making sure that each character had its own strengths and weaknesses and how that would affect them in different ways. truly, thank you so much for recognizing all of the hard work i've put into developing the story and the characters, it means more than you know 😭

i cannot thank you enough for leaving me such an incredible review/comment, it has made me cry (happy tears!) every time i've looked at it and it has helped me remember all of the things i loved about writing the story. i'm truly so so grateful 💖💖💖

#q: abundance

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