#it's midnight this might make 40% sense

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: What Hobby Should You Begin Next? 🎨🛶📯

Sup y'all, it's time for a new pick a card reading (this one's especially for you night owls out there as I'm posting this at midnight lol). Ideally, I'd like to post one PAC every week after this but eh, lettuce see about that. 🥬👀

This pick a card was inspired by the remaining energies of late Taurus season. The grass is bright, the air is warm, the flowers are blooming, and it's brought out the artist in me. While I've been finishing a leisure painting, I stopped to draw out some cards to help out anyone who's in the mood to do something fun in their spare time but could use some direction or guidance.

Pick any one of the four Prism Oracle cards below, or its corresponding crystal/emoji, to see what hobby you could explore next, or if there is a hobby you enjoy that is calling for your attention:

Pile 1 - Consciousness + Moonstone 🌙 Pile 2 - Happiness + Carnelian 😊 Pile 3 - Creativity + Amethyst 🎉 Pile 4 - Determination + Citrine 🧭

Pile 1 - Consciousness + Moonstone 🌙

77 Beginnings, Sound+Resonance+Frequency, The Musician, Capricorn Rising - Aspire; Page of Swords, Page of Wands, 9 of Cups, Knight of Swords, XI Justice

Wow, pile 1, I think you have the most obvious answer of all four piles. You're very drawn to pursuing something musical. It could be in a variety of ways. You might try singing, writing a song, playing an instrument, learning to dance, or perform in musical theater (the purple curtain in the Justice card definitely brings theater to mind). You could enjoy collecting vinyl records, or producing music through special programs and apps. You may desire to publish your music online, or dream of going big on stage and signing major contracts with labels. Two Pages tells me you're most likely into more than one thing, as plenty of musical artists can multitask.

Your pile was the only one to get two Prism cards at first as Anxiety initially wanted to pop out. It's also clear that with two Pages and the Beginnings card, you're very new at this hobby. There's an over awareness of this fact, that on some level you may not know where to even start. There's some doubt I sense that you feel you can't be at the level you wish to stand on. Capricorn energy wants to reach for the very top of the ladder in accomplishment; it is a steady energy although not intent on settling. I get that there are many people here who greatly look up to an artist and wish to have their same talents. Try to look past the smoke and mirrors of all the top 40's singers and know that music is way more accessible than it's made to look.

Try embracing the newness of this pursuit, pile 1. It's okay to be a little lost, or feel that there's a long way to go. The only way to go pro is to start small and grow. There are a lot of free resources online for learning music (try out musictheory.net for free lessons) and free vocal technique lessons on Youtube. Some people are very lucky to have the chance to start learning at a young age, but if we were to set a rule stating that only those who did so could play, that would leave a lot of creative geniuses and successful musicians out of the frame. If you're learning to play the keyboard, practice one song or even one note at a time (doesn't have to be Chopsticks, lol). Consistency is key.

When the inspiration and joy to explore music finally strikes you, take the time to really dive in and make something small. If you're trying to write a song, start with a jingle. If it's music theory you want to go over, start with just 1 lesson and see how it feels. If you're learning to dance, begin with warm ups and slow music before working on the more intense songs. Are you looking for writing inspiration? Keep plenty of notes on hand and learn how to identify music so you can easily write a melody down (there are empty music notebooks for this). If this is something you would like to do in the long term, then continue to practice with that perspective by not overdoing it to compensate for "lost time". You are exactly where you need to be on your creative journey.

Pile 2 - Happiness + Carnelian 😊

66 The Selves, You Belong Here, The Wise One, Cancer Moon - Intuit; X Wheel of Fortune, Sagittarius ♐, VI The Lovers, 9 of Pentacles, XVI The Tower

What's going on, pile 2? With the Selves card above Sagittarius, I'm getting that a lot of you may be interested in pursuing theater or comedy, whether that's stand up or it's simply channeled through the projects you create. Your next hobby may involve incorporating a lot of humor into what you do. This pile is the most multifaceted of the four, with many differing hobbies, so I'm going to list a variety of different talents, but what binds them all together is the need to express one's own (very) strong opinions for the world to see.

You may want to be a photographer who documents unusual things, or write something that makes a powerful statement. There's a need here to let go of any of the anxieties that come with expressing your authentic self, because while those feelings are natural, listening to them too much will dampen your creative drive. This is the group that wants to make very surreal graffiti art or provocative dance routines. With the Tower card, here, I feel there's a need for the shock and awe to get your inspiration buzzing. On the gentler side, I can see some of you getting into something nature based like flower printing and permaculture but the caveat is that it's a reflection of your genuine self and beliefs in some way. With Wheel of Fortune, some of you may feel an urge to learn about tarot or pendulum reading, as these things are typically categorized as "unusual".

You may also get into traveling to stay involved in your hobby, or it requires roving about in some way. To break down creative blocks, it might help to actually move yourself to a different location. It doesn't necessarily involve moving to a whole new place, it could just refer to another part of your home or you may benefit from walking or dancing to decompress. I feel that moving your body will stimulate your creative ideas to flow through. A small number of you may have considered trying out extreme sports like free climbing or parkour. I don't really need to mention that these can be incredibly dangerous, so some of you may like something similar like skateboarding or gymnastics as well. It doesn't have to be intense, just active.

With the Lovers, there also exists a social aspect to your hobby. You may be drawn to share you hobby with a friend or with partners. It will greatly help you to be in an environment that supports your avant-garde tastes and not settle for less. It's not always easy to put shocking art with profound messages out there for the world to make sense of it, though some make it seem that way. It's easy to pretend that negative feedback doesn't get to you, but only accept constructive criticism as that will feed you more than shocked reactions. You cannot afford to have others in your life discourage you, as your skill sets require a lot of space for growth. Nourish relationships that want to celebrate your talents with you. Find a community that loves what you love, and wants to see you happy with what you do. Embrace the wild side of your artistic abilities.

Pile 3 - Creativity + Amethyst 🎉

54 Security, the Messenger, The Aspirant, Aries Sun - Assert; 2 of Pentacles, Knight of Wands, 0 The Fool, Aquarius ♒, Virgo ♍

Hello, pile 3. With the 2 of Pentacles, many of you may want to explore a hobby that is both online and offline, or the internet and social media are major components. If you like making artwork, you could be into digital art or simply want to upload images of your offline work for others to see. With Virgo, some of you may have a lot to say, by starting a blog or online journal documenting your life or interests, or you could try out freelance editing. If you were a youtuber, you could be really good at creating epically long videos about niche topics, or short videos explaining how to do a certain task (like tiktoks that showcase a person's routines and what cleaning products they recommend).

I see that this is the pile of innovation, as the Creativity card shows a lightbulb. You could have various ideas pop up in your head, only to feel unsure of how to approach them. Your attention span could split into a variety of different mediums for getting the idea out. Aquarius wants to take its genius energy and spread it around the world. For a lot of you, social media will support your ideas by broadcasting them. Your hobby may directly involve interfacing with others; your creative spark is not for hiding away. Web design, for example, is a hobby but it involves creating something that others will directly interact with. Your work is meant for a wide audience, should you choose to put yourself out there.

This may not always be easy for you, since there could be a pull towards more stable and predictable activities. There's a nervousness here, kind of like imposter syndrome. You may get a really cool idea for a mobile game app before you or someone else goes "but that's an unrealistic goal to spend so much time and effort on", followed by, "how could I ever make something like that?" The thing is, you can be the most talented, skilled, and experienced person when it comes to a subject, yet still have these same worries. Imposter syndrome doesn't magically go away with a college degree, a new job, or 10,000 subscribers. It's completely normal, but make sure to not let your doubts tempt you into doing something more boring and unfulfilling. This is the pile most likely to try a totally new hobby that is unrelated to your other skills, it doesn't have to be realistic.

But also understand that it can take time for something to get really good. Your first fiction draft is gonna turn out clunky, or your app could be filled with bugs, but it's part of the process. There's no perfect time; when you get the urge to try, just try it! Reach out to a local community or chat group so you can get a realistic sense of how long it takes for projects and skills develop. Slam poetry may be a great outlet, so if you'd like to do that, attend an open mic and see how others do it. You are allowed to be imperfect with your hobby--if you wish to evolve your craft, remember the passion and curiosity that brought you to it.

Pile 4 - Determination + Citrine 🧭

57 Spiritual Guide, What Goes Around Comes Around, The Astronomer, Taurus Rising - Enjoy; 9 of Pentacles, Cancer ♋, Queen of Swords, Knight of Wands, Knight of Swords

How's it going, pile 4? So this is the most active and possibly athletic pile we have here. Staying in the house is not gonna work because something is itching you to get out underneath the stars. Could some of you be majoring or planning in major in STEM? I'm getting a lot of natural science here. With the Astronomer card, you could want to use your telescope to go stargazing or visit planetariums. Are you still feeling the buzz from all the aurora storm and eclipse hype? It would not surprise me if these events awoke an interest for you and now you're looking up when the next meteor shower will show up or when Saturn will be most visible in the sky.

Your next hobby needs or is the outdoors on some level. But Cancer energy is that of a homebody. The most laidback people in this group may enjoy relaxing hobbies like birdwatching or gardening. These hobbies could be spiritually fulfilling for you. I'm seeing someone wearing an apron outside, so could some of you be interested in grilling or being the host to a fun party in the backyard. Do people even have book club meetings in gardens? A lot of enjoying nature is simply finding a good spot and soaking in the scenery with no other goal in mind. Just being near trees and beach sides might be enough.

But I see a lot of you mainly wish to have an adventure and go far out in nature when the weather's just right. You could be thinking about hiking or backpacking out on trails. It all depends on your comfort level as we all have different tolerance levels. I don't know if geocaching and pokemon go are still popular, but they can be unique ways to engage with the outdoors. You could try guided nature tours presented by nature conservationists like the National Audubon, where you can identify and take photos of animals as you wander through the woods and plains. You may like a hobby that is seasonally specific, like swimming in warm waters or skiing down a snowy mountain.

Your hobby may have you think deeply about how humans connect with nature, exploring the ecosystem and how our actions influence our environment. Climate change can be a very serious and, for some, directly impactful topic to mull over. Remind yourself that as long as you're respectful (leave no trace), mother nature enjoys your company as much as you do for her. A small few of you may have the urge to travel to weird locations. Two knights in your reading suggest boldness. If you decide to visit an abandoned or haunted place, Queen of Swords says to please be careful and follow rules if it says no trespassing, and remember that abandoned places can be dangerous from faulty wiring and unstable flooring. Overall, I feel this pile just can't do with an indoor hobby. You have the motivation and courage to explore the vast beautiful world out there. It awaits you.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[writing-for-marvel]

Dear January

Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: While everyone else is celebrating the new year, all Bucky can think about is his resolution and you, though the two are inextricably linked.

Warnings: a little angst with discussions of Bucky’s past & references to him having PTSD, reader has empathy related powers, fluffy ending

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: banners by @vase-of-lilies, dividers by @newlips. Happy New Year everyone!! I hope 2023 is the year all your wishes and dreams come true 💜💜

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Dear January, please let the new year be kind to me.

It was nearing midnight when Bucky strayed from the festivities, sneaking away from Steve’s overprotective, hovering presence while he was distracted with one of the new recruits Natasha was attempting to set him up with.

A crowded room with loud music and dancing couples might have been his scene in the 40’s, but was far from the solitary life he enjoyed in the 21st century. Steve had insisted that the party would be a good opportunity to get to know everyone outside of a work environment, and also confirmed you would be in attendance.

If Bucky were honest, that was the only reason he had chosen to come.

This was Steve’s world and Bucky was simply a visitor - if you could call someone who had been living in Stark tower with the rest of the Avengers for more than 6 months a ‘visitor’. But this was Steve’s home, Steve’s friends, Steve’s team, and as happy as Bucky was to see his best friend adapt to these modern times and surround himself with a community of people who trusted and respected him, Bucky still felt like an outsider.

No one trusted or respected him.

Well, with the exception of Steve himself, and perhaps you, the other newest member of the team. But Bucky wasn’t sure if your kindness stemmed from wanting to make a good impression as a newcomer, or if you genuinely liked his company.

He hoped it was the latter.

Bucky’s thoughts as he descended the tower to the small, concealed area in the basement he used to get away from the bustling upper level floors, was that this new year brought a fresh start, and that’s what he needed most right now. A clean slate. To hit the reset button on life.

He knew it was arbitrary, nothing would actually reset at the tick of midnight - his troubles of December 31st would still be his January anxieties; his murderous past would continue to follow him around like a shadow, something he couldn’t simply shake off and which only became darker the more light you shed on it.

But a change in calendar year could at least come with a change in mindset. That would be the first step in achieving his New Year’s resolution and to move on with his life.

Perhaps finally forgiving himself for the atrocities his body committed without permission from his mind would be the first step in feeling like he truly belonged.

“Hey, whatcha doing all the way down here?” Bucky recognised the voice immediately - of course it would be you to find him down here. You were the only person besides Steve to care enough to notice his absence.

“How did you find me?” Bucky chose not to turn around, he didn’t want you seeing the affliction on his face it seemed only you could detect, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.

“It’s not too difficult when you have a cloud of melancholy following you around.” There were times when Bucky relished your powers, being able to sense his emotions meant he didn’t have to find the right words to vividly express how he was feeling when he didn’t have the strength to describe just how miserable and despondent the weight on his chest felt on a particular day. Though, today was not one of those occasions. “What’s wrong?”

“This is technically my first new year since the 40’s, I wasn’t sure how I’d react to the fireworks. Loud sounds sometimes still…” He trailed off, embarrassed at how pathetic it sounded when he tried to articulate that loud sounds still triggered flashbacks to events of a war which occurred eighty years ago.

The concern brimming in your eyes in response to this almost made him feel guilty for not telling you the entire truth - yes, he was concerned that the sporadic, popping sounds of the fireworks would set off one of his PTSD episodes, but what he failed to mention was he was frustrated with himself at not being able to make conversation with the team upstairs as easily as he’d have hoped.

With you it came so easy. Expressing himself to you was effortless and didn’t carry the same nervous weight as it did with everyone else. But that only made his futile efforts earlier that night all the more infuriating and discouraging.

You reached out and took hold of his hand. Even though Bucky had known you for around six months, it still surprised him every time how gentle, almost affectionate, your touch was. It made him flinch, but not in the same way physical touch usually made him recoil. He liked the feeling, he was simply not used to it. Not used to being handled like something cared about, something treasured.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be with you through the whole thing.”

The basement of Stark Tower was the depot for all previously loved items that Tony refused to throw away, so with the items on hand, you set up a blanket fort between a few old chairs, loaded with comfy pillows and sought out some old card and board games to keep the two of you occupied.

When the clock suddenly struck twelve, and the new year commenced, Bucky could barely hear the crackling sound of the fireworks from the haven of your blanket fort, even with his enhanced hearing. You said a quick ‘happy new year!’, kissed him on his cheek and went straight back into the game of uno you were teaching him to play.

He was far too engrossed enjoying his time with you, and trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, to pay any mind to what was occurring outside the four walls of the basement.

“Do you have a New Year’s resolution?” You asked as you played a draw two card. Bucky groaned in annoyance, though your cute chuckle in response to this was the real reason he had done it.

“Are you really meant to share resolutions? I thought that jinxed them.” Was what Bucky said to avoid saying his out loud.

“It’s not like a wish Buck, you can say a resolution aloud - it’s the work you put into them that makes them come true.” Bucky hesitated a moment but eventually gave in to your curious expression. He knew his aspirations would be safe with you.

“To try and be kinder to myself. Forgive myself for the deeds I was forced to commit and to remind myself what I did doesn’t define who I am now.” His statement sounded recited and even he wasn’t completely convinced by his words, so he knew you, who was privy to every inflection of emotion through his body, would not be satisfied with his answer. “That I’m not a killer anymore.” Bucky added feebly.

“James, you were never a killer.” He had seen the way his own teammates looked at him with utmost caution and terminal wariness every time he entered a room, as if they were all predicting his complete disintegration where he would revert to his brainwashed state and attempt to kill everyone in the tower. He was positive they considered him an executioner.

Bucky paused - you had never looked at him like that.

“I killed people, I’m pretty sure that makes me-”

“No it doesn’t, because that wasn’t you.” You interrupted. The ease at which these words rolled off your tongue and the steady conviction of your voice as you doubled down on your argument, prompted Bucky to think you actually believed them. “You do not hold any of the blame for what you were forced to do, you are a war veteran who fought for the freedoms of so many people, you gave your life so others could live theirs free of Hitler’s regime. You should be commended, not punished.”

“Thank you, for having that faith in me, I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“Yes you do. And I’ll always be around if you need the reminder.” You placed your second last remaining card down on the ever growing pile and claimed ‘uno’. Bucky was too preoccupied with the words you had said to continue focussing on the game.

“Always?”

“For as long as you want me to, Buck.”

“What if I wanted you around forever.” Bucky commented, chuckling slightly so you’d think he was half joking, even though he wasn’t. He bashfully broke eye contact to place a card on the central pile, but it didn’t stop his cheeks from heating like an ember.

“Then forever it is.”

Bucky was absolutely positive you were currently able to sense his feelings of deep affection and devotion for you as easy as noticing the warm sunlight on your skin during a cloudless summer day. But with the way you were earnestly smiling at him, and those kind eyes looking at him like he was all that mattered to you, he didn’t feel panicked that you knew how he felt. In fact, right here with you was the most serene he had felt since the 1940s.

As you placed your final card on the pile, a triumphant smile blossoming on your face as you won the game, he found he could not tear his eyes away from the magnificent sight.

Bucky realised in that moment he would do anything to see you smiling like that every day of his life.

The thought he actually had a remainder of a life to plan for frightened him, but if he would be able to spend it with you then he considered that a life worth living.

“Bucky?” You queried with wide eyes, scooting closer to him in the fort. His heart started pounding rapidly in his chest with anticipation - you wouldn’t have to have empathy powers to tell your proximity made him nervous.

“Mhmm.” He hummed, licking his lips as his gaze quickly averted to your own before returning to your yearning eyes, which were making the carefully constructed walls he used to keep the pain of rejection out, weaker by the millisecond.

“You know, it’s tradition to kiss at the beginning of the new year.” You stated with a contagious cheeky smile.

“I do remember that one.” He chuckled shyly, hopeful excitement buzzed in his stomach at the prospect of what was about to happen.

“I’d like for you to be my first kiss of the year.” You requested, and Bucky’s heart felt like it would explode in his chest it was beating so powerfully. “Also for you to be the only person I kiss all year, if that’s okay with you.” And with that he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Perfectly fine with me.”

You reached across the paltry space between you and tenderly placed your lips on his as your eyes fluttered shut. The kiss was tentative at first - you were allowing Bucky to set the pace, determine how deep he wanted to delve. It was Bucky’s first kiss since the 40’s, he was worried he would disappoint you, but when he felt your eager lips against his, it gave him the confidence to go all in.

Reaching across the space between you, Bucky pulled you into his lap, simultaneously silently asking permission to explore your mouth with his tongue, which you freely gave him.

Your bodies pressed together, your hands pulling you ever closer to him, was the unexpected, yet perfect way to start to the new year.

Dear January, thank you for already making this year better than my last.

[brooooswriting]

Prompt list

My first prompt list and I’m honestly not quite sure how this works. But send me a prompt and a character (you can find the characters I write for in my guidelines) :) I’m happy about request and recommendations

1. “I’m not stupid, who is s/he?

2. “I’m not flirting with anyone”

3. A: “We have a problem”

B: “no, you got a problem. I got you”

4. “If I could, I would kiss all your scars away”

5. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this”

6. “I don’t want to think about what life would be like without you”

7. “Do you want to stay tonight?”

8. “I killed him and I’d gladly kill him again”

9. “Don’t panic, but I think there’s someone in our house”

10. “How bad is it?”

11. “Cmon, I’ll carry you”

12. “I can’t get up”

13. “I threw up”

14. “You’re burning love”

15. “I can protect myself”

16. “Don’t touch me! GET OFF”

17. “You look beautiful”

18. “You left me. I stayed, I waited”

19. “You have the most amazing eyes”

20. “How’d you this scar?”

21. “We have time”

22. “You can still use your legs, so don’t say that I was jealous again”

23. “If even one of them touches you again, I’ll make sure they aren’t able to ever again”

24. “I’m overreacting?”

25. “Don’t cover my bite marks, or I might just have to add more”

26. “Wow, you really thought you could trust me?”

27. “You belong to me”

28. “I dare you”

29. “You can’t restart life once you make a mistake”

30. “You should be with someone who values you”

31. “I do not like (x), I like you you idiot”

32. “(X) doesn’t understand what they’re missing”

33. “If I was your girlfriend, I’d …”

34. “Can you picture me and you together?”

35. “My grandma thinks we are dating”

36. “Can’t sleep again”

37. “It’s past midnight, why are you still up?”

38. “Let’s get you some sleeping pills”

39. “She’s not your property”

40. “There is us, there never was”

41. “Keep lying and I’m out”

42. “Is this all I was to you?”

43. “You thought this was real?”

44. “All they ever did was take advantage of you. Why can’t you see that?”

45. “Tell me a story”

46. “It’s time to move on”

47. “I’m gonna take a shower, you should join me. You know, save water”

48. “Calm down! You’re scaring me”

49. “I’m done trying to fix you”

50. “I see your face everywhere… don’t you understand that?”

51. “I wasn’t enough for you, you made that clear”

52. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake to. Go back to sleep my love”

53. “Can I borrow your hoodie?”

54. “It kills me to imagine you with somebody else”

55. “You don’t own me”

56. “Can you come and get me?”

57. “You’re freezing, let’s go inside. I don’t want you to catch a cold”

58. “I don’t want you to be disappointed”

59. “It’s cute, this thing you’re doing”

60. “You should eat something”

61. “Who did this to you?!”

62. “You look like you need a hug”

63. “I love you, but you need to shut up”

64. “They’re coming. Kiss me”

65. “I’m flirting with you”

66. “I’m just so tired all the time”

67. “Would you like to take a nap with me?”

68. “Can I braid your hair?”

69. “You’re not your past”

70. “That’s not what I meant and you know it”

71. “You can cry, there’s no shame in it”

72. “You don’t do that with me”

73. “You’re not making sense dear”

74. “You feel like home”

75. “Is s/he really just a friend?”

76. “I promise I am trying”

77. “I can fix it, I will fix it”

78. “I can’t breathe around you”

79. “Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want”

80. “If you were any less threatening, you’d be a dandelion”

81. “I just adore you”

82. “Did I do good?”

83. “Let’s run away then”

84. “You shouldn’t trust me”

85. “What if you get hurt?”

86. “I like to do it for the plot”

87. “You are ticklish, that’s so cute”

88. “Can you warm me? I’m freezing”

89. “If you steel the blanket I’m gonna put my cold feed on you”

90. “This is low, even for you”

91. “I promise it didn’t mean anything”

92. “How much cold medicine did you take?”

93. “Get behind me”

94. “Touch her one more time and I’m gonna kill you”

95. “I want a family… with you”

96. “You’re more than a one night stand”

97. “Say that one more time and I’ll whoop your ass”

98. “My family likes you more than they like me”

99. “Every day feels like a burden”

100. “I may be a hero but I’d end the world for you”

[bibibbon]

MHA and too many side characters

MHA has too many side characters to the point where they can easily be deemed as forgettable and they genuinely affect other characters developments or screentime (also a factor that can affect development)

MHA isn't the only series that I have noticed this problem in because you can clearly see it in the final arc of Jujutsu kaisen (will talk about that in another post)

The whole there are too many characters can be seen in:

How many people are in the hero course. In UA alone there are 40 kids in the hero course and 20 in class 1A only. Out of all the 20 kids a maximum of 8 characters have probably gotten any type of character development which isn't even half the class?!?!? I don't know if the whole idea of there being 40 kids is supposed to be a plot point to show how bad of a school ua is that it only focuses on mass producing low quality hero members of society or if horikoshi just did this because he wanted it to feel more like an actual classroom. In my opinion it makes sense for there to only be 20 kids in the hero course in total (10 for 1A and 10 for 1B) because it would show how hard it is to get into UA and we would actually get character development and significant character moments from the characters.

The amount of heroes (some get introduced we get a story and then they get sidelined). I like the idea of having a whole lot of heros aka over glorified soldiers and entertainers but I hate when horikoshi introduces a hero, gives them a role, gives them even a backstory and then they get pushed off to the sidelines and become useless. I like focusing on the top 10 like hawks, all might, endeavour and even best jeanist but with the amount of heros there is we don't get much good characterisation from them in my opinion.

UA teachers and staff. There are either a lot or not even a sufficient amount of UA teachers and staff. Like what does luck rush serve, why is recovery girl here as a magical healing plot device, present mic is cool, we don't get much from the rest, midnight and aizawa are horrible ( don't think the plot intended for them to be that way but 🤷‍♀️) and nedzu the one who is supposed to be the best and carry it all is useless as heck to the point it hurts how much wasted potential he has. The UA staff should of gotten more development and more screentime but that was reduced because people didn't care for school or academia arcs

The amount of side characters that really don't matter or don't get much screentime. This is with secondary or tertiary characters like members of. 1A and 1B because let's be honest as interesting as some of the characters are a lot of them don't have any development and if they do it's just them getting a new technique or some bs like that and honestly it's disappointing. In my opinion it makes more sense for there to be less people in the hero course and that would if helped or we could of had certain side characters that we got to know well like civilians or others in general instead of making the series oversaturated with characters that have only cool designs

Other course characters. We were scammed in my opinion of characters from the other course and the ones we get either lack importance or are there to just hate on the hero course for no reason. The general studies course only hates on the hero course because they couldn't make it there and that's the only thing they really do. Sure Hitoshi is interesting but cannonically he is an annoying, hypocritical pos (he has potential tho I did do a rewrite on him) and mei hatsume from the support course is underrated as hell and lacks the screentime she should of had. Mei's character arc could of been something great and her canon contribution to the war arc is massive but due to the lack of screentime they tend to be pushed aside and not acknowledged at all. At least these two courses have something but the business management course really and truly has nothing and nothing at all I can't tell you any of the characters names or nothing all I remember is a bunch of scared first years trying to film a while battle so they can get the world to help which can be interesting if those characters had introductions, feelings, conflicts and developments but they don't so the emotional impact of the act falls flat

[munsons-maiden]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏   ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐     ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕    ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖   ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒

This Chapter is NOT the final chapter - I needed to split it in two because else would've gotten too long, so Chapter 16 will be the final chapter of this series. I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki 🖤  

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 |  Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 |  THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world  that might be more persistent  than you’d thought: Evil…and love. The story is told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending (I PROMISE!!!), fluff, smut, it turned into a fix it fic for ST4

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, attempted assault, bullying, canon-typical violence  

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | ~40 minutes

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | spiders, canon-typical gore & violence, blood

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.  

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞��𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏   ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐     ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕    ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖   ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒

[Thursday, March 28th, 1986.

ONE MINUTE AFTER MIDNIGHT.]

Silence.

There was only silence in the world around you, frozen in time.

Where the tune of Eddie’s heartbeat should have been thrumming against your ear.

Silence, broken only by the soft rustling sound of a thousand wings in the air as the swarm of bats continued their circular flight around you and Eddie.

With your eyes closed, it almost sounded like the wind rustling the leaves in the crowns of the trees around the clearing, the day Eddie had danced with you to the tunes of I Remember You. The day he’d almost kissed you. Sunshine painting streaks of caramel in his chocolate-colored curls, making his umber eyes glitter, the warmth of a thousand suns shining within them as he’d gazed at you.

Take me, too, you wanted to scream at the bats. Why don’t you take me, too?

Because Vecna didn’t want you to die. He knew that you living while Eddie wasn’t, your heart beating while the melody of his had forever been muted, was the cruelest fate he could have chosen for you, the perfect punishment.

The day the Mind Flayer – Vecna – had gotten you, at the old steel mill, the darkness possessing your body, numbing your muscles and senses and mind, was nothing compared to what you were feeling right now, curled up against Eddie’s side, your head resting on the spot below his collarbone, his blood still warm as it soaked your hair and mingled with your tears.

Agony and numbness. An eternal, abysmal ocean of it, drowning you within.

As the numbness spread through your body and soul, the black mist of the powers you’d stolen from Vecna nestling closer against your mind like a cat sensing your distress, so powerful yet so powerless against the force that was death itself, you pressed your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, the side where the bats hadn’t ripped away his skin with their teeth, and wept your silent tears into his soft curls tickling your cheeks.

Your fingers brushed against the soft silk of your green ribbon still tied around Eddie’s wrist.

Taking you back to the moment your path had crossed Eddie Munson’s for the first time.

[Friday, September 2nd, 1983. THEN.]

You were nervous. So, so very nervous.

It was a game day – your first game day as a cheerleader, and the whole day had felt as if someone had strapped your nerves onto a never-ending roller coaster ride.

Hawkins High had turned into a sea of green and orange and white, like every game day. you were wearing your cheerleader uniform for the first time.

The effect had been instant.

People had been smiling at you in the hallways. Some you’d never talked or even seen before had greeted you by your name in passing – and when Stacey Campbell had passed you by without batting an eye, without a single malicious word, without shoving her elbow in your ribs or pushing you aside, the little green skirt and matching top of the Tigers cheer uniform like battle armor turning you invincible, the bullied little middle school girl inside had taken a few moments to realize nobody was ever going to lock you up in a supply closet ever again.

By the time you entered the cafeteria and plopped down at the table Nance and Barb were already lounging at, your gaze flitted to Nancy, who was wearing the most non-Nancy outfit you’d ever seen her in – she’d donned a Hawkins Tigers shirt, and a green-and orange ribbon was holding her chocolate-colored hair in a high ponytail.

“King Steve Harrington has asked her out on a date tonight after the game,” Barb explained with a smirk, and Nancy’s beam widened

“You look stunning,” Nancy grinned, giving you a once-over.

“Wait – Steve Harrington,” you echoed, “The Steve Harrington?”

“How many Steve Harringtons do we know?”, Barb chuckled, taking a swig of her apple juice. “Which means Nance is going to be a princess.”

You placed your elbows on the table, leaning a little closer towards Nancy, the euphoria you’d felt moments ago replaced by worry as you followed your friend’s surreptitious gaze over to the table where the basketball team had assembled – to Steve Harrington, the team’s captain, who was currently busy raking a hand through his admittedly luscious curls, before you said, “Nance…you know Steve is a…”

“Womanizer?”, Barb suggested. “I already told her.”

Nancy’s dreamy expression vanished as she met your stern gaze.

“He was with Becky Brown last week,” you said, “And with Amy Miller the week before.”

“Don’t forget Hannah –“

“I get it,” Nancy interrupted Barb’s interjection. “I get it, okay? But I think he really likes me.”

“Until he got in your pants and moves on to the next nudge in his belt,” Barb said.

“Listen,” you said softly, placing your hand over Nancy’s on the table, “We’re not trying to talk you out of dating him –“

“Yes, we are.”

You threw Barb a warning sideways glance, who gave you a little shrug.

“We just want you to be careful, Nance. That’s all. Just be careful, okay?”

There was a beat of silence, before Nancy gave you a little nod, and the smile returned to her face – albeit less radiant than before and a little frayed at the edges – before she exchanged a glace with Barb and said, “We got something for you.”

“For me?”

“Just a little something. It’s your big day, after all.”

With a smile, Barb pulled something from her backpack, placing it on the table in front of you. It was a little box of robins-egg blue velvet, just the size to fit into your palm.

“Open it,” Nancy urged with a smile, and you obliged – and your own smile widened as you opened the box’s lid and your eyes fell on the thing inside.

Nestled on tissue paper, there was a hair ribbon, the soft green silk a color of the most vibrant dark green. Much prettier than the standard-issue scrunchie of the cheerleading uniform holding your hair back right now.

“We thought it would be nice, for you to have a little lucky charm,” Barb smiled as you let out a little squeal, already jumping from your seat to hug your friends.

“Want me to help tie it into your hair?”, Nancy grinned, and you gave a happy little nod, already moving to pull the scrunchie from your hair as Nancy shuffled in her seat beside you, gesturing for you to turn your back to her.

When she was busy tying the ribbon into your hair, your gaze scanned the crowd in the cafeteria, and a little laugh bubbled from your lips. “I can’t believe it. Nance is going on a date with Steve the Hair Harrington himself and I’m an actual cheerleader.”

“I’ll stay the nerd who makes sure you both keep your feet on the ground,” Barb chuckled, righting her glasses, “So you won’t forget to stay humble with all your newfound fame.”

“Done,” Nancy announced, and you turned to look at your friends.

“How do I look?”

“Like the most beautiful cheerleader to ever have graced these sacred halls,” Barb winked, and you struck a little pose to make them both giggle, before your face turned serious again.

Freshman year had been calm, uneventful. Peaceful. But sophomore year…

Just like the September sun shining outside was losing some of its summer-brightness, the late-summer air already laced with a cool breeze as the first leaves in the patch of woods behind the sports field were changing their vibrant green into shades of yellow already, you could feel change in the air.

As if something was going to end.

Childhood, maybe.

And all of a sudden, you were scared to lose them, those two girls you’d grown up alongside, sisters more than best friends at this point. That the tides of life would pull you apart, send you afloat on different routes like pieces of flotsam to carry each of you to shores too far apart from another to ever cross the ocean opening up between them.

“Let’s make a promise,” you said suddenly, “That no matter what happens, we’ll stay together.”

“You really know how to be optimistic,” Barb quipped, “Not very cheerful of you.”

“I mean it,” you pressed, stretching out your hand into the middle of the table, “Pinkie-swear. None of us gets left behind. No drifting apart. Not for a guy, not for anything. We’ll stay together, whatever happens. Okay?”

“Promise,” Nancy said with a smile, hooking her pinkie around yours, Barb joining in with a soft grin of her own, “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Eighty-three,” you grinned. “It’s going to be our year. I can feel it.”

For a heartbeat, the three of you stayed like this, pinkies hooked.

Then, your stomach rumbled.

“Okay, I should get my lunch,” you announced, getting up from the table.

There was no line anymore at the serving counter, and even the cafeteria woman smiled at you when she placed the lunch on your tray, and your smile widened at the sight of the bowl of strawberry Jell-O for dessert. Your favorite.

With feathery steps, you returned to your table, the lunch tray in your hands, as you felt the tug of your new silk ribbon loosening, your hair coming lose, and the tray clutched in your hands you froze mid-movement to whirl around and scan the ground for the ribbon – as someone bumped into you. Hard.

And the tray was pushed against your chest, peas raining all around you like confetti and strawberry Jell-O spilling all over the shirt of your cheerleading uniform as you let out a startled gasp.

For a few heartbeats, you stayed frozen in place, staring down at the huge red stain of Jell-O decorating the once white fabric of the shirt of your brand-new cheerleader uniform, right at the center.

Your head snapped up, meeting a pair of startled brown eyes.

“Shit,” the guy breathed.

In the sea of orange and green and white, he stood out like a black sheep among a flock of white ones – though he would have stood out anywhere even on a regular school day.

He was clad in black. Black ripped jeans, black shirt, the name on it that of a band you’d never heard of, flashing out from beneath the lapels of his black leather jacket – and his hair was so long that it spilled over his shoulders, a mess of wild dark curls brushing his collarbones, curly bangs falling into his forehead to frame his pale face, his features caught in a mask of silent dread as he stared back at you with the most stunning eyes you’d ever seen.

They were a dark brown, like burnt sugar, or whiskey; and wide with shock.

“I’m – sorry,” he said, the softness in his voice and the shock on his face not matching the menacing exterior.

He was…handsome.

In that strange, roughed up way.

You wondered how you’d never noticed him before. Probably because you were a sophomore and he was…a junior? Or a senior, even? But still, with a look like that, you’d have definitely remembered if you’d seen him before.

And he was obviously waiting for you to say something.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, a slow smile tucking at your lips to your own surprise, “I was thinking the shirt could use a bit more color.”

And the shock vanished from the guy’s face before his lips curved into a timid, surprised smile.

It was the most radiant smile you’d ever seen – and your heart did a weird little somersault in your chest. It felt like that feeling in a roller-coaster, right before the drop.

Feeling warmth creep into your cheeks, you grabbed the tray with your spilt lunch a little harder and turned to go, as the guy called out, “Wait! You, uh, lost your –“

You whirled back around to face him, just as he cut himself off and bent down to pick something from the floor.

And with that shy, radiant smile still on his lips, he extended his hand, your new green silk ribbon in his palm.

You’d completely forgotten about the ribbon, the very reason you’d stopped and he’d bumped into you.

“Oh. Yeah,” you breathed, switching the tray to one hand to reach out with the other. “Thanks.”

When you took the ribbon from his palm, your eyes never leaving his dark ones, your fingertips grazed his skin.

The touch was fleeting, less than the brush of a feather, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you and sent your heart on another roller coaster ride.

The ribbon in one hand, the tray in the other, you turned and walked away, cheeks burning and rallying all your willpower not to throw a glance over your shoulder to see if he was still standing there, staring at you – and you didn’t need to, because you could feel his gaze still on you, burning at your back.

“What was that?”, Barb inquired when you placed the tray with your ruined lunch on the table before you plopped back down in your seat.

“Nothing,” you smiled.

“That was Eddie The Freak,” Nancy said.

“Wait, you know the guy?”

“It’s hard to miss him.”

“I heard he’ll have to repeat his senior year,” Barb said, her voice taking on a conspirational tone.

So he was a senior. Two years older than you, or one and a half? Was he eighteen already?

Why did you even care?

“You probably haven’t seen him before because he’s a slacker,” Nancy mused, “No wonder he has to repeat senior year. By the time we graduate, he’s probably Hawkins High inventory.”

You made an unintelligible noise in response, before you threw a glance back over your shoulder.

He was gone. Vanished in the sea of green and orange and white he’d emerged from.

Your gaze flitted down to the green silk ribbon in your palm, thumb flicking over the soft fabric as you remembered that jolt of electricity shooting through your nerves as your fingers had grazed his palm.

And you couldn’t help but wonder, for a brief little moment, whether Eddie The Freak had felt it, too.

[Thursday, March 28th, 1986.

ONE MINUTE PAST MIDNIGHT.]

Eddie’s gaze wasn’t resting on the crimson D&D dice in his palm anymore – it was locked on the vibrant dark green color of the silken ribbon you’d tied around his wrist, catapulting him back to the day he’d first met you.

Not in the woods, but in the cafeteria.

He hadn’t forgotten a single second of that brief, shared moment, the radiant smile you’d given him.

But it was only now that he realized the ribbon which had come loose and fallen from your hair that day, fluttering to the ground to make you turn and bump into him…it had been this very same ribbon.

It hadn’t simply always come back to you – it had brought Eddie to you, as well. Or you to him.

Because hadn’t you bumped into each other that day in the cafeteria two years ago, hadn’t you given him one of those smiles that turned his insides into jelly and made his heart do backflips any cheerleader would have been proud of…Eddie wouldn’t have started to search for you in the crowded hallways, eager to catch a glimpse of that beautiful smile again and wishing to see it directed at him once more.

And if he hadn’t spent so much time looking for you…he wouldn’t have seen you disappear into the woods that night last September when he was waiting to do a drug deal in the Hawkins High parking lot. He also wouldn’t have seen Jason following you.

Back then, Eddie had followed because he’d thought you needed help, that you were running away from Jason.

How could he have guessed that you hadn’t even noticed Jason because you’d been running from another monster, one which was torturing your mind?

The very same monster watching Eddie now, with those disturbing forget-me-not-blue eyes.

In the time Eddie had stared at the ribbon, he had grown – from the little boy into a man in his early thirties.

“Henry Creel,” Eddie said.

Henry’s smile was even more unsettling than before, matching the honeyed timbre of his tone as he assessed softly, “You know who I am.”

“And you know who I am.”

“Edward.”

Eddie flinched a little at the sound of the name.

It didn’t escape Henry’s notice.

“Edward. A good, classic name. Yet, you despise it with all your heart. Because it was your father’s choice.”

Eddie remained silent, lacing his glare with all the hatred for this human-turned-monster in front of him that he could muster.

Henry, Vecna, chuckled again. “You don’t want anything to do with the man who sired you – but I wonder…why?” His voice morphed into a dark croon. “Daddy would be so proud of you. Look what’s become of you, hm? Your third attempt to graduate. A drug dealer, following in your old man’s footsteps. Known by the police long before they started hunting you for murder. Stealing that camper, just like he taught you. Poor little Eddie. The only thing you’ve ever been proud of running away from – only to realize the path has led you right back to where you were always supposed to end.”

Henry tilted his head as he waited for Eddie to reply.

It reminded Eddie of a cat stalking a mouse.

That’s what he was. A tiny little field mouse dangling in this beast of prey’s claws.

He wouldn’t give Henry the satisfaction of showing a reaction to the taunts, of letting himself be goaded like that. Eddie was dead. And Henry Creel was nothing but a schoolyard bully. He’d dealt with this kind of person his whole life.

“Cat got your tongue, curly-head?”, Henry taunted, his voice as sweet honey as if that could somehow conceal the evil abysses of those unsettling eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” Eddie’s fist tightened around the crimson D&D dice, its plastic edges digging into his palm. “Goldilocks.”

Henry’s unsettling smile grew. “My, you’re feisty.”

“Nope. Just dead.”

Eddie hadn’t thought he had it in him, this sass in the face of evil.

But where panic had resided in his chest…there was only rage left. Fury.

“Are you done?”, Eddie inquired, schooling his expression into an unreadable mask matching Henry’s. Because Henry Creel might have been the dungeon master of this game…but Eddie refused to play along.

“Oh, but I haven’t even started yet, little songbird,” Henry crooned, in this calm, low voice that was so deeply upsetting, “How am I supposed to call you, if Edward is not to your liking?”

As if on cue, there were voices in Eddie’s head, a chorus of whispers chiming and chanting all the ugly names the kids at school had given him over the years. The adults, too, oftentimes.

Trailer park trash. Sewer rat. Weirdo. Freak.

Eddie’s hands flew up to clamp over his ears, drown them out.

But amidst the ugly choir of voices calling him names, there was another one, soft and loving. Your voice, as beautifully familiar as the words on the pages of his worn-out copy of Lord Of The Rings, piercing through whatever malicious spell Henry had cast over him.

The way Eddie’s name sounded on your lips when you laughed, when you called out for him in greeting, your eyes lighting up. When you paused in between kisses to tell him you loved him –

“Do you know what it means, your name?”, Henry drawled, placing his hands on the back of the carved Dungeon Master throne. Eddie’s Dungeon Master throne. But Eddie wasn’t the one calling the shots anymore.

“It means protector.” Henry chuckled.

“You’re dead,” Eddie hissed. He was still surprised he wasn’t trembling like a leaf.

But he knew where the rage was coming from.

It was all the bottled-up fury for what Vecna had done to you, to Max, to all the others, and to him. Eddie had never felt so much rage in his entire goddamn life.

Henry chuckled, a soft sound that travelled through this unnatural, abysmal darkness surrounding the two of them.

“The little thief seems to be a little liar, too. You’ve lost. Your friends will die. And the ground is swallowing Hawkins as we speak.”

No.

If Henry was telling the truth –

A gentle breeze brushed Eddie’s cheeks, and something appeared at the side of the table.

Another wooden chair, less intricate than the Dungeon Master’s throne at the head of the table.

And chained to the chair by writhing black creepers that wrapped around her wrists, clamped over her lips to mute her, over her eyes –

“Max,” Eddie breathed.

He should have known that something horrible would await him when Henry didn’t move to hold him back.

But all rational thoughts were drowned out by Eddie’s panic as he darted towards Max and ripped away the vines covering Max’s mouth, the creepers falling away far too easily.

“Eddie?”

It was a broken whisper, a stir of the air more than an actual sound.

“Y- yeah,” Eddie breathed, “It’s me. I’m here, Max. Right here. I got you, red.”

He moved on to the vines covering the girl’s eyes, his nails digging into the slick black tissue of the creepers covering her eyes – and it took all of Eddie’s willpower to bite back the scream lodged at the back of his throat as the vines finally fell away, revealing Max’s eyes.

White as the floating spores of the Upside Down, weeping blood.

“It’s so dark,” she half-whispered, half-sobbed. “It’s so dark. Why is it so dark?”

It sounded so unlike the little redhead.

So forlorn and…broken.

“Why is it so dark?!”

“We’re…” Dead. We’re dead, and you’re blind. He couldn’t tell her that. But he couldn’t lie, either. He couldn’t tell her everything would be okay.

“Dead,” Henry finished the sentence.

No, Eddie wanted to scream. We’re not dead.

But Eddie knew Vecna was telling the truth. He remembered it all. The agony, the blood. His eyes finding yours for one last time, one last I love you.

And if Max was dead…the wall between worlds had crumbled away.

Vecna…Vecna had won.

And his monster slayer, the brave new family he’d found, his uncle and his friends in Hellfire, the entire goddamn town of Hawkins…they were in horrible danger.

A choked, broken sob ripped from Max’s lips as those blind eyes, wide with terror, tried to find him.

“I’m here,” Eddie soothed, panic subverted by all his senses screaming at him to protect as he moved to rip away the creepers tying her wrists to the chair’s wooden armrests. “I’m here, ‘kay? You’re not alone, Max.”

“Edward the protector,” Henry drawled. “Always looking out for the – how do you call them? Lost little sheep? Are you a shepherd, Edward? Or are you just another of those lost sheep, hiding beneath the fur of a wolf? I thought we’d settled that you’re a runner, not a fighter, hm? A coward, not a hero.”

It was hard to block out Henry’s words, mingling with Max’s broken whimpers as Eddie tore and ripped at the creepers tying the girl to the chair. He could hear the soft splash of water indicating Henry’s soft footsteps as he drew closer and closer, until his voice chimed up from right behind Eddie’s shoulder, close enough for chills to race down Eddie’s spine.

“I have seen your heart, Edward Munson. I’ve seen your doubts. Your insecurities, the parts you so desperately tried to hide away from the world. Now it’s only fair of me to share my little secret with you, hm?” Henry leaned in, closer, so close that Eddie felt his breath stirring his curls as the man-turned-monster whispered, “It was me who brought your monster slayer to you.”

Eddie’s head snapped up to meet the eerie forget-me-not-blue of Henry’s gaze.

His head was tilted to the side like a curious cat’s as he waited for Eddie’s reply.

“You’re a liar.”

“I am many things,” Henry chuckled, “But a liar? No.” The feline smirk on his lips widened. “I put all these hallucinations in her head, you know that already. Drove her into madness. And right into your arms. You know, to hit her where it hurt the most, to take something as valuable from her as she’s taken from me…she needed to possess something so valuable at first. And who would have been a better choice than the boy who has been pining for her for so long? All your longing glances in the hallways when she was passing by. During lunchbreaks while you were sitting at the other side of the cafeteria, wishing it was you who was graced with those smiles. Wondering whether you’d ever get to know what made her laugh so beautifully. I drove her right into your arms, Eddie. And now I took you away again.”

Eddie knew exactly what Henry was doing.

Sewer rat. Trailer trash. Weirdo. Freak.

Henry had seen right into Eddie’s heart, all the doubts and insecurities he’d locked in there like a swarm of bats in a cave, and now he was using them like he had used his swarm of monster bats.

And the deeper Eddie had fallen for you, the more he’d doubted.

If you don’t trust yourself, trust me. That’s what he’d told you yesterday. That’s what Eddie would do now. He didn’t trust himself. But he trusted you.

Rising from the floor, Eddie positioned himself between Max’s slumped form in her chair and Henry, who was still waiting for Eddie’s reply to his cruel taunts.

“I liked you more when you were just a rotting corpse in an old attic, you know,” Eddie hissed, fury conquering fear. For now. Eddie felt it would only be a temporary sentiment.

But Henry only chuckled.

“Who was there who ever really loved you, Eddie? Mommy, who preferred her pixie dust over her own son? Daddy, who hoped you’d drown and spare him the trouble when he threw you into the water of the bayou to teach you to swim? Your uncle, who was forced to take you in because there was nobody else who would have wanted you, like a flea-infested stray kicked away from the front door?”

“My uncle loves me.”

“And did he choose you?”

“He would,” Eddie breathed, “He did.”

“He chose to not suffer a guilty conscience for the rest of his days. Or do you truly think it was Wayne’s dream, to raise a kid that wasn’t his own because his good-for-nothing brother didn’t care enough to do it himself? To be stuck working through the nights to provide for a kid he never even wanted to raise?” Henry took a step closer towards Eddie, closing the remaining distance as Eddie froze in his spot, hackles raised but holding his ground as he kept himself placed between Max and the monster.

“She loves me,” Eddie breathed. “She chose me.”

“Oh, she did. And at what cost? She wishes she’d never met you. ‘I will always, always come back to you’. That’s what you promised,” Henry drawled, taking Eddie’s hand in his icy ones as his fingers, strangely elongated, toyed with the green silk ribbon you’d tied around Eddie’s wrist as he added, “An empty promise.”

“So that’s what you do with your almighty powers?”, Eddie said quietly, pulling his hand out of Henry’s icy grasp, “Stalking people in their most private moments like some perv?”

The unsettling smile grew.

“All your anger will not change the fact that you failed her, Eddie. Your monster slayer. And all the rest of them.”

Henry raised his hand.

The scream which ripped from Max’s lips made Eddie whirl around to the little redhead, to the creepers which had ripped her out of the wooden chair, dragging her towards the pillar rising from the darkness behind her like the trunk of a tree, her blind eyes white as she screamed and Eddie darted after her, hands clasping her small ones, so cold in his own as he tried to pull her out of the vines’ unrelenting grip.

To no avail.

Eddie fell backwards as with a final tug, Max’s hand slid out of his grasp.

“No,” Eddie cried, scrambling to get up from the ground, but it was too late, anyway.

Max was pinned to her pillar, the black vines creeping over her mouth to mute her wails as Henry stepped in front of Eddie, blocking his path to the redhead.

“In the end, you never managed to protect anyone, Edward The Protector,” the monster teased softly. “The town is hunting your lost sheep down for their affiliation with you. The boy you wanted to protect from the mockery and scorn you faced yourself? He will die, just like the rest of all the others who’ve come so foolishly to this realm to kill me. And the girl you so desperately wanted to protect, gave your lifetime to add a few more seconds to hers – your monster slayer?”

Henry raised his hand anew, cold palm brushing over Eddie’s eyes too fast for Eddie to take a step back and shrink away from the freezing touch, and his vision slipped, the void and the D&D table, Max and Henry, gone as images invaded his mind like a swarm of paper planes.

For a few seconds, Eddie couldn’t make sense of what it was Henry was showing him, flitting shadows and swirling splotches of white.

Until he realized that he saw a fragment of the world from bird’s eye view.

Bat’s eye view.

He saw what the swarm saw, locked into the hivemind.

They were drawing circles in the air like those plastic horses on a carousel at the fairground. And in the center, as frozen and still as the scene in a polaroid picture…

There was his monster slayer.

Slumped on the ground, curled up against his side.

It would have looked almost peaceful, like a couple taking a nap in the grass under a star-splattered night sky.

Only that the grass was dead and soaked with blood, a dark pool of it, and that there were no stars in the eternal dark skies arching over the Upside Down.

Only winged monsters.

There were spores drifting down to catch in your hair, in his own dark curls, on his lashes as Eddie met his own unseeing gaze, trained skywards at the fluttering swarm.

The way your eyes were squeezed shut, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, your face nuzzled into the curve between his shoulder and neck and your hand resting on the silk ribbon tied around…it shattered him into a million pieces.

“She’s as dead as you are, Edward,” Henry cooed, snapping Eddie back out of the hivemind, umber eyes meeting forget-me-not-blue ones. “The moment your heart stopped beating. She’s dying, with every second she sobs over your body. Crumbling away. Piece by piece, like dandelion seeds scattered in the wind. If I offered her to erase her memories of you, do you think she would agree to the deal? Better off to never have met you at all?”

As much as it hurt…Eddie would want you to agree. Just forget him, move on. Live the life you’d never gotten to live.

“That’s what I’m offering you,” Henry crooned now, taking Eddie’s hand to press something into his palm.

The crimson D&D dice. Eddie must’ve let go of it when he’d tried to free Max.

“Play a little game with me, Eddie Munson. If I win…well, I already did.” Henry’s smile turned cruel. “But if you win, I will grant you one single act of kindness. If you win, I will take away your monster slayer’s pain. I will free her of the heartbreak and grief over your loss that will cast the darkest of shadows upon the rest of her days, however many of those might be left.”

Henry stepped closer, index finger locking under Eddie’s chin to force him to hold the gaze of those cold eyes.

“How?”, Eddie breathed.

“It is quite simple, little songbird,” Henry crooned. “In fact…it was you who sparked the idea.”

Before Eddie could recoil, Henry raised his free hand – and with the tap of his index finger on Eddie’s forehead, the darkness of the void shifted.

Gone were Max and the D&D table.

Replaced by…trees.

Sunlight was filtering through the crown of the trees surrounding him, making Eddie squint in the sudden brightness as the leaves rustled in the gentle autumn breeze which carried the scents of burning firewood, the chill heralding another freezing Indiana winter while the warmth of the scorching summer of 1985 was still clinging to the air.

Eddie knew this wasn’t real. A memory, as if Henry had scoured his mind like one would a video store. And the memory he’d picked was one of the happiest Eddie possessed.

He knew exactly which memory it was.

Eddie was standing in the middle of the woods, in the little clearing, right beside the picnic table.

And there was music.

All around, weaving with the autumn air and the rustling leaves, Eddie’s favorite song.

“Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you.”

And there you were. Eyes sparkling in the golden rays of the afternoon sun as you smiled while Eddie watched himself twirl you across the carpet of fallen leaves.

“And through the sleepless nights, through every endless day.”

“It hasn’t always been your favorite song,” Henry drawled from behind Eddie. “But it was, after that day.”

“I wanna hear you say, I remember you.”

Just when Henry’s calm, dark voice chimed up from behind again, it dawned on Eddie what the monster with the forget-me-not-blue eyes was offering him.

“I will erase you from her memories, Edward.”

“That’s not in your power,” Eddie breathed, tearing his eyes away from you and him, caught in your own little world, whirling around to face Henry.

“I told you, I am many things. But I am no liar.”

Eddie could see the truth in those forget-me-not-blue eyes.

A cruel game, befitting for a cruel Dungeon Master.

“It’s up to you, Edward. She will forget you,” Henry continued in his low, gentle voice so opposed to the malice of his words, shining in his unsettling eyes, as the colors of the woods started bleeding away, the tunes of the song fading until the darkness of the Void, the D&D table and Max’s slumped, lifeless form chained to the pillar were back. “She will move on and find happiness. Or she will remember you, the way you died in her arms while she was forced to watch. One more demon to haunt her in her sleep, in every waking hour. Oh, the irony, that after all I’ve put her through, the thing that broke her…” Henry smiled, “Would not be me, but her love for you.”

Eddie’s mind flitted back to the moment you’d been caught in Vecna’s curse, the words which had spilled not from his lips but his heart.

“And even though it hurts like hell to even think of you with someone else, you need to wake up now so you can find this person you can do all these things with and share your life and be happy with, okay? ’Cause no matter how fucking much it destroys me to know that this beautiful smile of yours will be for someone else, that you’ll crack Yoo-Hoo jokes and watch movies and discover the world and build a life and dance and laugh with someone else, you need to come back to do all these things, monster slayer.”

“How will you decide, Eddie? Haunt her – or try and set her free?”

Eddie had meant those words. Every single one.

And he still did. Of course he did.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he opened his fist to stare at the dice nestled in his palm.

And with newfound determination, Eddie lifted his gaze to meet Henry Creel’s.

“Let’s play.”

***

One hand laced with Eddie’s, your other hand wrapped around the guitar pick dangling from the necklace Eddie had given you. The edges of the smooth plastic were digging into your palm as you clutched it like a lifeline.

But there was nothing that could save you from drowning in the abyss that had opened up in your chest.

That was the first guitar pick I ever had, did you know that? With that thing, I learned to play guitar. It was a shitty old acoustic guitar my uncle got from a yard sale. The guitar pick was part of the package. It’s been my lucky charm ever since and I guess it worked because I’m here, with the girl of my dreams who, for some weird reason, loves me back.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

You’d fought so hard to rewrite Eddie’s stars, his story. Write him a happy ending instead of a tragic one.

And still, it hadn’t been enough.

Get up, you wanted to scream at Eddie. You need to get up. Please, please, please get up.

But Eddie wouldn’t.

He would never again play guitar, smile softly in concentration as his slender fingers pulled the strings. He would never again play D&D and plan campaigns while drinking bottle after bottle of Yoo-Hoo. He’d never again scribble little doodles on the edges of his school notes and books, tongue poking out as he focused. He’d never again read Lord Of The Rings or watch Star Wars, laugh about Dustin’s jokes or dream up worlds and characters in this beautiful, clever mind of his.

He'd never graduate.

Never live the life he’d wanted to live.

The young man who had chosen to be kind when the world had shown him so much scorn, who’d kept his softness when he so easily could have let the cruelty he’d faced sharpen his edges, who’d tried so hard to make the best of the cards fate had dealt him because he’d wanted to be better than whatever his father had tried to make of him. Eddie, whose warmth had never been extinguished by the coldness the world had shown him…he was gone.

Just like that.

Because Vecna had taken him away to punish you.

Eddie had been your sun to light the day and the moon to illuminate the night and the stars to guide you through the dark.

And with his light forever snuffed out, there was only eternal darkness left.

Spreading through your chest like the Mind Flayer had all those months ago, freezing and tar-black and abysmal.

And all the power you’d ripped away from Vecna, stolen…it wasn’t enough to bring Eddie back, put the light back into those beautiful umber eyes which had always shimmered with so much warmth and kindness. Eyes which were forever hollow and unseeing now, trained at the sky bleeding crimson lightning, framed by the dark cloud of the swarm of bats still flitting around you in circles.

And finally, the scream which had been building in your chest, in the darkness where your heart had been…it ripped free.

Of anguish and grief and loss and pain.

So much pain.

Clawing at your insides, ripping you apart as your voice filled the silence of the Upside Down.

And a shriek answered.

And another, and another, a chorus of anguished screeches answering your scream from all around you.

Your eyes flew open and you angled your head, your cheek still resting against Eddie’s collarbone as your gaze locked on the sky above.

Through the veil of your tears, it took a moment for you to realize what it was you were seeing.

Fire.

Hailing from the skies like falling stars.

***

“The rules are simple,” Henry smiled as he slowly sunk into his Dungeon Master’s throne at the head of the table. “You roll the dice three times. If you land a twenty…you’ve won. If not…”

Henry raised his hand, and the darkness of the void all around them dissolved, making room for colors.

Well, one color.

Red.

The deep, dark color of fresh blood spilling from a deadly wound replacing the abysmal black, tinting the fog covering the ground and the sky arching above, empty save for a low full moon.

Nope. Not a moon.

The display of a…clock.

And all around, like the columns holding the roof of a cathedral, pillars shot out of the ground like Max’s had done, stretching towards this crimson sky, patterns of black creepers writhing around them like coils of snakes.

And on each pillar, there was a body.

Eddie had seen these images before, of broken limbs like the branches of trees, of bloody black holes where eyes had been and dislodged jaws gaping open in eternal, muted death cries.

They were all here, just like you had told him when you’d woken from your trance.

All of the souls Vecna had reaped.

If he’d still been able to throw up, Eddie would have retched his guts out.

But he couldn’t avert his gaze from Chrissy’s empty eye sockets staring back at him.

You left me there, she seemed to scream at him. You ran and left me there.

He tore his gaze away, spinning in a circle, to the pillar behind him – but it was empty.

It took Eddie a shellshocked moment to realize that this empty pillar…it was meant for him.

Because no matter if he won, as soon as the last dice had been thrown, Eddie would take his place in Henry’s collection of stolen souls.

Just like Max, he realized.

Locked up in this place forever.

But if Eddie could make sure to give you a chance to be happy again…he could take this fate waiting for him.

And if he found a way to get Max out of here…

He opened his palm, taking the crimson D&D dice between his thumb and index finger as another horrid realization hit him.

Eddie didn’t need to turn the dice to know.

“There’s no twenty,” he breathed. “Right?”

***

It took a split second for you to realize those weren’t falling stars hailing from the skies all around you.

It were the bats.

Their wings and fluttering tails had caught fire, set ablaze by your tormented mind, the reeling darkness you’d ripped away from Vecna.

Leathery wings devoured by flames as they fell from the skies all around you, their tormented screeches filling the freezing half-dark of the Upside Down, one after the other, more and more until they rained down like a shower of shooting stars.

Bringing you back to the night on the roof of Eddie’s trailer, when you’d first kissed.

I’ve never seen a goddamn shooting star in my life.

If only they were shooting stars, hearing your desperate wish.

But no shooting star in the world could give you back what you’d lost.

No, you couldn’t put the light back into those beautiful dark eyes.

Couldn’t put his light back into the world to combat the dark.

And amidst this eternal night in your chest, there was a spark of fury.

Of wrath.

Not a lifeline, not exactly. But a tether, nonetheless.

You held on to it, clutched it tightly.

No, you couldn’t put the light back into Eddie’s eyes to chase away this darkest of nights.

But you could set the darkness on fire.

Vecna had taken everything from you.

And now, you would take everything from him.

***

With his frozen smile still on his lips, Henry Creel tilted his head, the softest of chuckles filling the void.

“Witty little songbird. A dungeon master’s skill, one might say.”

He waved his hand, and when Eddie glanced back at the dice in his palm, it showed a twenty, black numbers on crimson.

But it didn’t matter whether Eddie rolled a natural twenty, he realized.

Because even if he’d make true of his promise and erase Eddie from your memories…Henry would never let you go. He’d haunt you for the rest of the days – and those would be numbered.

Henry would make sure to you’d pay for stealing from him.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat.

And that was the moment it finally clicked, the final piece of the puzzle he didn’t even know he’d been searching for falling in place.

Stealing from him.

Jesus H Christ.

That was it.

Stealing meant taking something away, something that would be gone.

Stealing some of Henry Creel’s powers…meant he’d have left less of them left for himself.

That’s why he was so furious with you.

You hadn’t only stolen from him – you’d weakened him.

How the fuck had Eddie been so blind? How had he not realized this all along?

When he glanced up at Henry now, it was as if a theater curtain had been lifted, revealing a glance at what had lain behind all the time.

Henry wasn’t sitting on the Dungeon Master’s throne simply because he could or wanted to.

He was sitting there because he had to.

Because he was injured.

And in pain, it dawned on Eddie.

Pretty good at covering it up, but Eddie could see the strain on Henry’s face, the grey pallor on his milky skin, the exhaustion beneath the malice in his forget-me-not-blue eyes.

Henry Creel was hurt.

Yeah, Eddie was dead.

But he wasn’t gone yet.

Eddie didn’t know what he was now. A ghost, the fragment of a soul staying behind because he couldn’t let go as long as the love of his life was still in danger. Or a memory, maybe, like a blurred polaroid picture, forever frozen in this timeless realm. An angry, heartbroken spirit who’d never find rest because his monster slayer, the girl he loved more than anything was suffering, trapped in a place he could never reach to wrap his arms around her and whisper that all would be okay.

It didn’t matter either way.

Eddie would never be able to come back to you. But as his hand wrapped around your green silk ribbon tied around his wrist, Eddie realized…he might be able to make sure Henry would never be able to get back to you, either.

Maybe, Eddie could deal the final blow himself, from within.

Make sure the monster would never be able to lay a hand on you again.

That had always been what Eddie had tried to do, after all – protect you.

He only needed a plan.

Fast.

His eyes never leaving Henry Creel’s, Eddie threw the dice for the first time.

The sound of it, rolling across the wooden D&D table towards Henry in his throne, sounded too loud in the eerie silence of the void. But then again, there was no point in fearing to draw attention to any monster which might roam the darkness at the edges of Vecna’s lair when the most monstrous thing was watching him with his piercing forget-me-not eyes.

When the dice came to a stop right in front of Henry, Eddie didn’t need to take a glance to see it hadn’t landed on a twenty.

Henry’s smirk was telling enough.

“Want to try again, Edward?”

Hell yes.

Letting his fingertips trail over the polished wooden surface of the gaming table, Eddie walked towards the head of the table and Henry, still lounging in the throne that had once belonged to Eddie, to grab the dice for his second throw.

To get close enough.

Just as Eddie’s fingers wrapped around one of the little figurines discarded all across the wooden surface, a motion behind Henry caught his attention.

And for the fragment of a heartbeat, Eddie’s eyes locked on a pair of hazel ones.

He’d never seen her before, but he didn’t need to – he’d heard so many stories about her that he felt like he already knew the girl with the buzzed hair and the nosebleed meeting his gaze above Henry’s shoulder, frozen mid movement as she reached out to the creepers keeping Max muted and pinned to her pillar.

Eleven.

The girl with the superpowers.

And it seemed she’d managed to get those back just in time.

Even with this split-second glance, Eddie could tell that Eleven was as weakened as Henry.

Blood was dribbling from her nose and onto her white shirt, and exhaustion shone in her eyes, the shadows underneath dark and deep.

No matter how she’d gotten here, it dawned on Eddie that she wouldn’t be able to save both Max and him.

And if Henry discovered her, she might not even be able to save herself.

There was the spark of an idea in Eddie’s panic-dazed mind as the thought which had taken root there only seconds ago grew into a fully-fledged plan.

A crazy one. Batshit crazy and really, truly reckless, bordering on stupid – but there was the sliver of a chance that it might actually work.

Grip tightening around the D&D figurine as he let the sleeve of his leather jacket slide down a little further, over his fist, the surprisingly sharp edges of the miniature monster digging into his palm, Eddie quickly focused back on Henry as not to betray the arrival of help.

He knew exactly what he had to do.

Buy more time for one final time, divert the monster so the girl with the superpowers could save Max.

And then, Eddie would kill Vecna right from within.

Set you free of Henry Creel’s grasp.

To live.

Graduate.

Go to the beach.

Find peace.

Move on, and find happiness.

That’s what Eddie wanted for you. That’s what he’d fight for even in death.

It was strange, that he didn’t have a heartbeat anymore yet he could feel it racing in his chest, roaring in his ears. Tremors were shaking his hands and making his bottom lip tremble, that stupid fucking quirk he couldn’t control forever giving him away as he bit his lip to stop it from giving him away this time, keep his eyes locked on Henry’s, dark umber against forget-me-not-blue.

Eddie reached the head of the table, his other hand, the one not holding the figurine reaching to grab the dice –

And with a suppressed roar of rage, Eddie attacked.

A sickening squelch filled the air alongside Henry’s uproar of pain as the little figurine in Eddie’s hand hit its mark in the man’s left eye, black blood splattering over Eddie’s face as he stumbled backwards, away from Henry.

The D&D figurine was stuck in his eye, right in the center.

It was a Mind Flayer figurine, all of its spidery legs buried in Henry Creel’s eye socket as more black blood gushing out of the wound to spill on his immaculate white dress shirt, turning it less-immaculate in a heartbeat.

“New game idea,” Eddie breathed, “Tag. Your turn, goldilocks.”

***

It felt like sleepwalking as you untangled yourself from Eddie to kneel on the dead grass, the blood pooling all around in a puddle. Eddie’s blood, already cold.

There was still the ghost of one of Eddie’s sunshine smiles lingering on his lips.

It was fitting, you thought.

The boy who’d always made sure to keep his smile no matter what was thrown his way, who’d always tried to make others smile whenever he could, who’d given you back the laughter you’d been so sure the Mind Flayer – Vecna – had stolen for good, had walked into death with one of those soft smiles, because the last thing he’d seen had been you.

Your hands folded over his own, fingers lacing with his as you tilted your head towards the skies, towards the burning bats hailing down all around you like falling stars, their agonized death cries filling the air.

It was hurting Vecna.

You could feel his pain through that strange, lingering connection of darkness, that bond tying you to him and him to you like a shackle.

The darkness you’d stolen from him nestled closer in your mind, your grief shared by this weird companion. A part of you, and yet holding a consciousness of itself.

You would hurt Vecna.

You would make him pay.

Your eyes fluttered close.

One last time, you told the darkness. Help me one last time.

***

It felt like all the times Eddie had run away in his life had led to this moment, prepared him to run when running was what he needed to do right now to draw Henry away so the girl with the superpowers could save Max and Eddie could kill Henry and save you.

He raced past pillars decorated with broken, tortured souls frozen in their final, muted death screams, empty eye sockets watching as he darted past.

Eddie knew he might be one of them soon. Or would he? What would happen if he managed to kill Vecna in the monster’s own mind? Would he stay here, trapped forever in this horrible place filled with death and misery and pain, like a firefly trapped in a jar?

It didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was that he killed Henry and made sure the monster would never ever lay a hand on you again.

As long as he knew you were safe, Eddie was ready to accept whatever fate awaited him.

But to kill Henry, he needed a weapon.

Something, anything…

But there was nothing here. Only death and broken bones and creeping vines writhing as they lashed out in attempts to grab his ankles and restrain him, their movements strangely distorted, like those of a drunk. Something was hurting Henry, slowing him down. Some injury Team Crit Hit had managed to deal.

Like a hare on the run from the fox, Eddie zigzagged between them, past the maze of pillars, stumbling blindly through the fog which seemed to grow thicker with every step until it swallowed Eddie’s ragged breaths and the sound of his combat boots on the ground.

Just as he threw a glance over his shoulder, to check whether Henry was still following him, something crunched beneath the soles of his boots.

Eddie didn’t know what it was that compelled him to stop. But he did. Maybe it was something he could use as a weapon.

Blood roaring in his ears, Eddie bent down, his fingers searching the thing he’d stepped on, hidden by the fog covering the ground and the world all around him, reaching for him in tendrils that curled around his legs like creepers.

There. Something cold and sharp bit into the tips of his fingers before his hand closed around it.

A razorblade. A rusty old razorblade.

“Eddiiiiieeee,” a sing-song voice drawled from beyond the impenetrable fog.

“No,” Eddie breathed.

It couldn’t be.

Not here.

“C’mere. Be a big boy, huh?”

The last time Eddie had heard this voice, he’d been a kid, cowering in the corner of the camper as the policemen had dragged Richard Munson away. His father.

“Eddiiiieee. Stop hiding. I’m gonna find you anyways, I always do. Let’s just get this over with, hm?”

And just like that, Eddie was four years old again, scared and hiding from his father and his razorblade and the stench of cheap whiskey that always seemed to linger in the air around him like a little cloud.

“You don’ wanna look like a girl, do ya, Eddie? Don’ wanna look like mommy? Lemme cut these ugly curls.”

No. Please, please don’t. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. “Not real. It’s not real,” he whispered, shrinking away from the voice piercing through the fog, “He’s gone. He’s locked up and this isn’t real. It’s a trick. Not real. Not real –“

“You wanna look like mommy, huh? You wanna look like that ungrateful bitch?”

Eddie let go of the rusty razorblade as his hands shot up to cover his ears, lock out all those ugly memories while he sunk to the ground, letting the fog swallow him.

His father had never hit him. But he’d hated Eddie’s curls. And when he’d drank enough of his magic potions, he’d sometimes grabbed a razorblade to shear them off, the cold metal biting into Eddie’s skin, sometimes drawing blood with how much his father’s hands were shaking as he got worked up. Spitting out horrible things about Eddie’s mother.

“Go away,” Eddie breathed, the first tears of panic spilling down his cheeks as he cowered there, between the pillars, the silhouettes of broken limbs reaching through the fog like the branches of naked trees in winter. “Go. Away!”

“Stole my good stuff to od ‘n left me with her lil’ mutt. She was a whore, ya know? Wouldn’a surprised me if you weren’t even mine but we’re gonna make a real Munson outta ya, boy. Now, hold still. Lemme cut these ugly curls right off ‘n then we’re good, yeah?”

At the edge of his panic, Eddie knew it wasn’t real.

That Henry Creel was playing his sick little mind games, burrowing into Eddie’s darkest memories, drilling deeper and deeper until he hit a vein, black oil spilling and poisoning everything else until the only thing left was panic, freezing, devouring panic.

Pressing his hands firmer over his ears, as if that would help drown out that voice that lived inside his head, freed from its cage…something grazed Eddie’s cheek.

Soft silk, a dark, vibrant green.

Your ribbon, tied around his wrist, conjuring up the love shining in your eyes when you’d tied it into a little bow-tie, both of you still beautifully immersed in the afterglow of what you’d just done, heartbeats in perfect synchrony forming a duet to match the connection between your souls.

Monster slayer.

Like a light switch being flipped, there were other memories flitting to the surface of Eddie’s mind to combat the ugly ones.

Not of rough hands gripping his neck, forcing the razorblade across his scalp, dark curls falling to the floor all around him as he sobbed – but of your hands, gently combing through his curls when you’d washed his hair in the shower only twenty-four hours ago, your touch nothing but loving.

He needed to save you.

Gritting his teeth against the voice of his father still piercing the fog, Eddie pushed himself back on his feet.

Get a weapon.

Pierce Vecna’s heart.

That was the plan.

He’d done that a thousand times. All those years of playing D&D, as a player, as a Dungeon Master…he’d defeated evil so many times.

He could do it again.

One last time.

And as if the control Eddie taken back over his mind and senses, reigning in his terror, was the key, the fog was lifting, his old man’s voice fading with every step Eddie took forwards, towards the looming silhouette of…of a hallway.

A house’s hallway – a winding staircase leading up into nowhere.

And beside the staircase was a door.

An old one, made of wood and inlaid with a window of stained glass, a bouquet of crimson roses at its center.

The door you’d opened. The door you’d seen that night last November.

Shivers raced down Eddie’s spine as his eyes scanned the place.

“Little songbird,” a second voice, Henry’s voice, travelled through the air, a drawl, almost teasing in its tone, threat laced within.

Gritting his teeth, Eddie stumbled towards the staircase.

It was broken in places, some of the wooden struts of its banister sticking out like toothpicks.

“Do you truly think you can run from me, Edward? You might be an even bigger coward than I thought.”

Grim determination guiding Eddie’s movements, he ripped out one of the wooden struts, the polished surface cool against his clammy palm, the end of it splintered into a sharp tip.

It looked like a stake ready to be driven through a vampire’s heart – and for a split second, he remembered the joke he’d cracked in the trailer only an hour ago.

Guess I’m Kas The Bloody-Handed now.

It was befitting, in a way. Kas had killed Vecna.

And so would Eddie.

“Run away, little songbird,” Henry drawled, his voice morphing, growing dark and distorted like the signal of a walkie running out of batteries. “The cat’s coming to play with you.”

Clutching the wooden stake, Eddie raced away from the the door with its creepy stained-glass roses, back into the labyrinth of pillars, careful not to glance at the mutilated, stolen souls of Vecna’s victims decorating them.

“I’m going to rip out your feathers, little songbird.”

His voice was eerie, haunting, reverberating through his lair.

Careful not to touch the creepers writhing lazily on the ground like coils of rattlesnakes, Eddie wove his way through the maze, deeper and deeper towards the source of the voice.

Towards Vecna.

“I’m going to snap your wings and make you sing with pain, little songbird.”

Eddie’s heart was racing so loud that he feared its wild thumping would give him away.

His back pressed against the nearest pillar, Eddie waited, fighting to suppress his ragged breaths, listening –

“Found you.”

Eddie whirled around.

Henry’s eye, the one Eddie had pierced with the figurine, was gone.

An empty socket was glaring back at him in its stead to match the lifeless souls strapped to their pillars all around.

The remaining eye was filled with hatred.

And so, so much bloodlust, the sneer twisting Henry’s lips barely visible because his skin had grown grey, starting to rot away from his face.

It almost looked like…like burn marks.

When Henry raised his hand, fingers grown into spidery claws, Eddie moved.

There was a wet squelching sound as the sharp end of the broken stake pierced the monster’s chest, sinking into rotting skin like a knife cutting through butter before Eddie let go of it, stumbling backwards and away from Henry, his back hitting the nearest pillar as the one remaining forget-me-not blue eye locked on him.

Eddie waited for Vecna to scream, to dissolve, fade into particles like the ones floating through the air of his realm of monsters –

But Vecna just smiled.

And Eddie knew that he’d lost.

“Oh, little songbird,” Vecna crooned, his voice distorted like the chime of the broken clock in the skies as his hand – his claw, fingers grown spindly and elongated like the legs of a spider, wrapped around the stake to pull it out of his chest.

The wood made a dull thudding sound as it clattered to the ground.

Freezing, wet creepers wrapped around Eddie from behind, ensnaring his wrists, his ankles, wrapping around his chest as they pulled him flush against the pillar to mirror the other souls Vecna had collected, a muted scream of pain lodged at the back of his throat as Henry stepped closer.

“Do you want to know why didn’t work?”

The nauseating stench of burned flesh made bile rise in Eddie’s throat as the disfigured claw gripped his jaw, sharp fingernails digging into Eddie’s skin as the cruel smile on Henry Creel’s face widened.

“I don’t have a heart anymore, little songbird.”

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔

---

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This was NOT the final chapter! Chapter 16 will be the final one, and it will contain smut. PLEASE BE AWARE THAT DUE TO THE NEW TUMBLR SETTINGS, YOU'LL ONLY BE ABLE TO SEE AND BE ALERTED TO CHAPTER 16 IF YOU HAVE THE DEAFULT SETTINGS HIDING MATURE CONTENT TURNED OFF! To see mature content, you need to turn on "show mature content" in your tumblr settings, else the content will be completely hidden and the tag won't work either. Chapter 16 will be posted next weekend 🖤

[mishy-mashy]

On the note of Banjo, it makes more sense if he were a Vigilante. I believe he actually was this, rather than a Pro Hero.

Daigoro Banjo, AKA Lariat. It's not explicitly stated he was a Pro Hero, and he recognizes Japan during the first appearances of Abilities.

In the anime (ep 133), the subs translated this as:

"This devastation... it's like we've gone back in time... Trying not to catch the eyes of villains, just hiding every day... it's like when superpowers first appeared."

Banjo recognizes Japan's disarray, and from brief flashbacks of the vestiges, including All Might talking about his dream for a symbol, we can see Japan really was as Banjo recognizes.

But Tomura, in the mall, says people just smile without concern. They've forgotten, or never experienced, that past. Banjo can clearly identify it, and when we get his full name, he definitely lived during that turmoil (neverminding his age, I think of him as 36 or somethin, and Shinomori died at 40).

This would actually make Banjo a Vigilante. They mention that back then, Vigilantes and the first Villains used codenames like comic books, so Banjo being Lariat could easily just be that.

(Not so related, but references to recognizable things like Pokémon and superheroes like Spider-Man appealed to the masses as familiar, so when Abilities first showed up, it would've been around our time [2000s].)

Look at when the League of Villains asked Toga why she had no villain name;

When we see Banjo using his Ability and we get his name, we see that Japan isn't in the best state. Look at all the damage and fresh smoke below him.

All Might says that during this time, All For One's power ran unchecked, and he stole many powerful Abilities, if not crushed the users. Other than simply being first/second-generation, this also explains why, individually, all the OFA vestiges had weak Quirks. Even Kudo's was weak. It's just that it evolved with One For All and had enough nuance to become something more. Abilities like Float and Danger Sense didn't change at all, and Smokescreen only increased the amount of smoke Midoriya could make.

Since Banjo lived in the same time as when Quirks had started appearing, he knows the turmoil, but also was around long enough to be a Vigilante. Pro Heroes hadn't come into play immediately; Vigilantes were where they started.

Even Gran Torino was a Vigilante. It's why Midoriya found nothing on him when he looked him up. Gran Torino only became a Pro Hero to get his teaching license so he could teach All Might for a year, but that didn't stop him from being a hero, per se—he just did it through vigilantism. Gran Torino still did hero stuff before the hero license, and we see him flying and talking with Nana in a costume before he ever taught All Might.

Banjo doesn't strike me as a guy willing to jump through all the hoops when he can just go out and do it himself anyway. And with Japan in chaos still, does he – or the officials – have time for that?

Bakugo even describes Banjo as a nobody, because he doesn't recognize him. This would make sense when remembering Gran Torino was also unknown; because they were Vigilantes. I don't think Bakugo is referring to not knowing them just because their Abilities are weak. Heroes back then would be well-known as retro (ex. Crimson Riot, who Midnight recognizes immediately, despite his not-so-strong hair-hardening Ability), even if they weren't powerful.

Blackwhip is a useful Ability, and back in Banjo's time, considering Abilities in the first generations included Smokescreen, Danger Sense, Float, and Air Jet, Blackwhip is actually higher up in power and usefulness. And he's still unrecognizable.

If he were a Pro Hero, he'd be considered pretty amazing. But he's unknown, has a codename, and acted as a hero when Japan was troubled; his being "nobody" makes sense as a Vigilante.

Heroes didn't happen immediately. They began as Vigilantes; so for Banjo, at the start of using Abilities to bring some sort of order, he would've been in the Vigilante age. Or where heroes are just starting.

Nana was a Pro Hero. Kotaro resents heroes because she was one. Her friend, Gran Torino, was not a Pro Hero until he had to teach All Might for a year. People were more likely to be Vigilantes than Pro Heroes at their time, just because Vigilantes are where they started first.

Being a hero meant courses and licenses, and in a time where Pro Heroes were barely existing, with people still using their Abilities as they pleased? Banjo was probably a Vigilante.

Look at how America handled Vigilantes and starting the Pro Hero business;

Out of 189 Vigilantes, only 7 were recognized as heroes.

America wanted to make a divide between how people should use their Abilities for good. That's why so little people got to be heroes; Vigilantes were too destructive, and that wasn't proper behavior for those protecting the peace. We even see that UA teaches to keep damage to a minimum.

And whoop-dee-doo, look at how Banjo uses his Quirk.

HE'S DESTROYING STUFF. JUST TO GET AROUND. NO NO NO.

He was never actually called a Pro Hero. It was assumed because he has a codename; and codenames were just customary back then, to make identification and classification easier between Vigilantes and Villains while hiding their real identities.

He wouldn't have made the cut as a Pro Hero, lived during a time of rising Vigilantes against society's chaos, wasn't known at all (typical of Vigilantes) despite his good Ability, but had a codename (Lariat), and lived at the same time as Nana and Gran Torino.

So yeah, I consider Banjo to be a Vigilante rather than a Pro Hero. There's more things that push him toward being a Vigilante, compared to just having the alias Lariat being why he's called a Pro Hero by the fandom.

[poshpunkqueen]

I've been listening to Taylor Swift since the debut. I'm not one of those listeners that believe Taylor is a Princess, wholly innocent, 24/7 victim but at the same time I don't believe she's a Villain. She's made mistakes.

I'm not one of those listeners that has the time and immoral capacity to sit on the Internet to committ Cyber crimes nor am I willing to put my health on the line to see her live. There should be boundaries.

The transfer from Teenhood to Adulthood for Taylor...I could tell ..she's still unravelling. Its okay to be in your 30s and still finding yourself. Hopefully there is an expiry date.

I'm not trying to be funny but I believe Taylor needs therapy. There are some unresolved things: fame, dealing with the industry and the media has definitely affected her. I don't think she's quite shake off alot stuff. It's passivity with a cupcake appearance of happiness.

Her patterns and methodology when it comes to music....mmmh the adults are taking a step back and analysing 😄. Writing those songs and knowing the effects will eventually become a "Here we go again" Moment. Everyone will move on and she will remain.Therapy is needed.The pride comes before the fall.

I say this because when Tortured Poets Project was announced I was unsure about it. I've never been unsure about a Taylor album. But then again I'm aware of the Taylor Formula. Not sure if she can carry this formula into her 40s and 50s 😄 but we will see. But I listen for listening sake..I'm listening to everyone this year.

TTPD Album: I had to stop half way because its the typical Taylor album...same note 🙆🏻‍♂️ same storyline... lol no doubt she's a good songwriter. Not sure how to feel about missiles being sent to someone who struggled or struggling with Depression. NOPE.

Emotional cheating is interesting lol We had this before 👀. Alcoholism and the talks about drugs is interesting too. Blurring the lines between two men. One you barely bedded to be in this deep. This seems like a tactic for writing material. Calculated PR stunts. I said this last year...she knows what she's doing...she dated him purposely ...she knew what to expect and Matty knew what to expect ...I'm disappointed in Matty selling out ...and acting out for attention..he needs to grow up too....he knows better. He made the whole band look bad...(I'm George fan btw)

Meathead guys years ago like Travis Kelce were saying they wanted to date Taylor for fame and songs. Sadly I'm starting to see it. Travis is a big time user. However we live and learn 😆

Idk I don't get it. If people pay attention to her lyrics not just on this album but previous albums, she tells on herself alot lol. We will have this again 2026.

Being Human isn't without flaws and wrong paths but it seems people only see it with Taylor Swift. .they don't see it with others 🫡 Others would would be stamped with cancellation. The Devil.

Taylor is in her 30s and I hope she figures out what she wants personally and professionally. It doesn't make sense moving from person to person then writing these songs. This is why therapy is important.

A few weeks ago, we heard Beyoncé album and I'm not the biggest Bey fan but we heard her different layers vocally and with the blending of genres. While I'm aware Taylor isn't a vocalist...I want to hear her do other genres.

Honestly I liked Midnights and reputation better.

Here are the songs I might listen to again:

✨️ Fortnight

✨️TTPD

✨️Down Bad

✨️So Long London

✨️The Prophecy

✨️Robin

⛔️Florida...but it's meh...Florence was downplayed...similar to Snow on the Beach with Lana.

The other songs were...okay....

I support Joe. I don't think Joe deserves this...I'm not gonna defend wrong actions even if I like your songs...

TBH EVENTUALLY I WILL STOP LISTENING TO TAYLOR BECAUSE I'VE GONE BACK DEEP INTO ROCK AND OLD SKOOL MUSIC

[deusvervewrites]

Given the information that we known in canon and how IRL schools every once-in-awhile update their curriculum to adapt to the changing environments of what's new and how we learn, All Might's battle trial seems to be something that would make sense for newcomers to learn in an apocalyptic situation and they'll figure out from there. While I would think it would be more realistic to learn how the hero costumes work and do a basic obstacle course and exercise to learn how to use them and see how flexible the designs are, an apocalyptic version would have to students figure out while on the go. This is more on UA into not vetting and help All Might onto what to teach given that 40 years is a long time for things to change.

There is no doubt that All Might's UA 40 years ago had actual student deaths because the times were brutal back then and that the students had to learn now instead of later. In fact, since Japan did not sign into law about the minimum bare skin requirements until Midnight did her first costume, it could be said that the hero students had some armor and more cover than now and due to the commercialization of the heroes, then the sexualization of the costumes happened. Only once society became kinda safe is when they start caring about the looks.

The apocalypse probably also affected the development of technology and Support Heroics, simply because not only was a lot of knowledge was lost and has to be rediscovered, the Support Course didn't had as much money or capability as it did now. Imagine if Mei existed during All Might's UA compared to the time she is in now. She probably would be banned from the lab if she doesn't contain her explosions or wouldn't have as much info and money to innovate new gadgets and gear.

Now that I think about it, while all of the life-and-death situations at current UA are for comedy, I wonder how bad the actual the death toll was for students and post-graduated heroes in these times and that the rates dropped as society stabilized. UA is only the greatest school simply because of All Might's public success and them likely having the most students survive all 3 years and having the most heroes survive out on the field for some time.

I think that most of the stability issues were resolved by All Might post-graduation, but I fully agree that his graduating class was not as big as it was at the start of their first year, and I severely doubt it was training accidents.

But it's a very interesting way to interpret All Might's teaching issues with him being 40 years behind curriculum and still thinking about class lessons in the context of "it's the apocalypse" but tempered with his actual on-job experience.

[polichinelle]

the raven cycle timeline

"trc takes place in the mid-2010s" "trc takes place in 2012" no it doesn't! it's pretty common knowledge that mstief isn't the most specific when it comes to timelines (an example is that she had to change ronan's birth date after readers pointed out that it didn't line up with the events of the book; another example is the pre-canon gansey & adam & ronan friendship timeline, which doesn't make sense at all if you think about it longer than a second), and she has said before that her editors are more or less the same.

what that means is that the raven cycle and the dreamer trilogy are kind of nebulously "present-time," and no matter what year you think it takes place in, some details are going to be inaccurate. but since i am a chronic nit-picker and i get very fussy about timelines, that didn't sit right with me! i needed to know the exact year. so on my last reread, i kept a look out for any mention of dates so that i might be able to pinpoint exactly when the raven cycle takes place.

and i think i might have the answer :)

all of my arguments come from the dream thieves.

firstly, adam's birthday. we know that his birthday is july 3rd:

we also know that he was missing for most of the previous day:

what happens then is that he falls asleep for an indeterminate amount of time ("Later he fell asleep sitting up on the end of that same sofa."), he and gansey drive back to henrietta, adam visits blue at fox way, and after scrying with persephone he falls asleep again for twenty-one hours, and during that twenty-one hours is when his birthday takes place.

for a while i assumed the "quietly turned eighteen" referred to midnight, but that actually doesn't make a lot of sense given the context of the previous day being saturday. both of our options (gansey and adam drive back the same evening they found adam; gansey and adam drive back the next morning, on sunday) leaves us with adam falling asleep on sunday. at some point during the next twenty-one hours he "turns eighteen."

the thing is, there is no convenient year where july 3rd falls on a monday (in the scenario where we assume that "quietly turned eighteen" refers to midnight on the day of his birthday). however, if we go with the idea that it is still sunday and it refers simply to his actual time of birth, we're left with a pretty good answer:

adam turns 18 on sunday, july 3rd, 2011.

i have another thing to kind of back this up.

if we assume niall wasn't lying about that, we have two (well... kind of) options:

i searched for earthquakes in northern england since niall was born in cumbria. however, in my opinion, the second one, on december 26th, can't really be counted, since it would mean niall was... 32 in 2011. a little young lol. but if he was born in 1970, he would be 40/41 at his time of death, which makes a lot of sense (it also makes sense he would be a leo). neither earthquakes are a 4.1, but whatever, maybe he just forgot the exact number. maybe he was being humble.

so... all of this to say that the events of the raven cycle probably happen during 2011, and thus the dreamer trilogy would take place in 2013. considering the references to fortnite and all, that doesn't make a lot of sense, but at least i can rest easy knowing that that's just because mstief didn't think about this stuff at all while writing it (hence nebulous "present-day" being the actual correct answer as to when the books are set).

for a while i actually thought trc took place in 2010 since the lynches go to church before kavinsky's party, which i assumed meant july fourth was on a sunday, but it's mentioned that they go for a "special" "holiday mass" and not regular mass. either way, 2011 works better with adam being missing on saturday.

anyway, all this to say that i think about timelines too much. thank you for reading if you've made it this far lol

[zeebreezin]

Introduction • Updated 06/05/24

Hello hello, this is Astra! Welcome to my Fallen London side blog, I’m still somewhat new to the game but I’ve played a good bit of Sunless Seas and am always down to learn more about the world. This blog is heavily focused towards OCs, both mine and others, as well as my liveblog of my playthrough! According to some I’ve become the Sequencer Guy (™), which is a title I'm more than willing to bear. I’m working through a Nemesis route character as we speak and have just started a Light Fingers PC! Shaw’s (Nemesis) playthrough can be found at #low level liveblog, and B’s (Light Fingers) is at #b’s bizarre adventure.

If you ever have questions about my characters or want to interact, shoot me an ask or DM! I love talking and I love hearing about other people’s creations, but I have a pretty bad memory for conversations & replies!!

I’m a writer and digital painter, and am much more comfortable with more atmospheric / background work compared to portraiture & drawing people in general, but I’ve been trying to branch out. I also tend to make jokes that can lean in dirty directions, but I won’t be reblogging any IRL NSFW. There might be discussions of kink & sexual topics, but I’ll keep those tagged under #suggestive and they shouldn’t be too frequent. I’m also chronically bad at tagging spoilers or triggers, so please let me know if you need anything I will do my best.

One last important note here - like I mentioned before, I have a lot of characters involved with the New Sequence & the Dawn Machine, and I do my best to portray semi-realistic elements of how cults function & can impact people in them. If you are at all uncomfortable with those kinds themes of religious abuse, please please please feel free to blacklist those character & relationship tags!! I will not judge you whatsoever, Stay safe!

With all that said, Character stuff under the cut! Hope you have a great day today!

Ambition Characters:

The Black Rook | The Long-Suffering Linguist - August Shaw

He/They - Mid 40s - Nemesis! - Philology Professor & Midnighter - Watchful | Dangerous

Account: AugustShaw

A professor of Philology by trade, Shaw is a prickly character who has a mildly extreme obsession with the various languages of the Neath, a fascination that’s gotten them into a good deal of trouble… and left them with a few strange quirks. He's driven by the need to get revenge after his daughter’s death, and puts on a face of absolute pragmatism to do it. Desperate to give back to those on the surface he left behind, Shaw’s fallen in with the Great Game, becoming a spymaster for Black and working to uplift the marginalized from below… a trade he’s gotten a terrifying reputation for. Unscrupulous at the best of times, he is damn good at his job, when he’s not chasing a bit of escapism by any means necessary. While they’re seemingly a grumpy bastard, Shaw does have a big heart and a surprisingly bold sense of humour.

The Reckless Playwright - ‘B’

Any/They - Mid 20s - Light Fingers - Actor/Playwright - Persuasive | Shadowy

Account: BThePlaywright

B is an aspiring playwright and actor with their head in the non-existent clouds and a spring in their step. She always seems to be getting into a little bit of trouble, before charming his way out of it with a smile and a wide eyed look. Everything about their past is a bit of a mystery, though it can’t be denied that they have a good heart. While searching for cheap lodgings in London, B ended up with the (mis)fortune of becoming Shaw’s housemate and eventual investigative assistant. Their endless optimism hides a great deal of past horrors, as does their suitcase. They’re absolutely not wanted by the Navy for treason, either. Don't know why I had to specify that.

The Pragmatic Headhunter - Vivian Fitzpatrick

She/He/They - Bag a Legend - Bounty Hunter - Dangerous | Watchful

Shaw’s Ex-wife who came down to the Neath after he abandoned her and their still living son. After murdering her (now probably ex-) husband, Vivian developed a taste for the Neath. Both for the power they could achieve, and for the thrill of the hunt and battle. More than anything, he wants to prove herself to be more than the grieving mother the surface wanted her to be - by becoming something more feared than death itself. Harsh and openly hypocritical, Vivian’s on the fast track to becoming something terrible - but the question is, will she be able to bury the last of herself to do it?

Non-Ambition Characters:

The Ravenous Acumen - It/She - Killer for Hire / Killer for Hobby - Shadowy | Dangerous

A mysterious figure with a deeply warped body and equally warped sense of morality. After Acumen’s own hubris cost her everything, it devoted itself to killing arrogant or naive researchers that play with things they don’t understand. There’s far worse fates out there then death, after all. It speaks in riddles, lives for games, and has a bizarrely tender affection for anyone who gains her favor.

The Mournful Phantasm/The Chimeric Violinist - ‘Lenore Shaw’ - She/They - ??? - Persuasive | Dangerous

Once a dangerous Parabolan entity born from the thousands of false-selves created when mourners dream of lost loved ones, ‘Lenore’ found her way to reality entirely by accident, and truly believes she is Shaw and Vivian’s biological daughter. Gazing into the mirror glace that follows her reflects back the form of whoever or whatever you’ve lost that you miss most dearly. Not quite a reflection, but definitely not human, she currently resides in the Royal Beth, haunting its halls - though she may walk the streets soon enough.

The Phosphorescent Engineer - Officer Benedict Beverley - He/Him - Chief Engineer @ The Grand Geode - Watchful | Persuasive

The hot shot engineer and golden boy of the Grand Geode, Beverley is a sequencer who’s best known for his wonderful designs of prototype dawnlight explosives. Bastard. Deeply in denial. He’s desperate to test them out and bring the dawn to the population of London, but he’s even more desperate to recover his lost prototype… and find his missing partner. [Has a Sunless Skies verison - The Scintillating Harbinger!]

The Hell Scarred Surgeon - Dr. Laurence Frost - He/Him - Medical Officer & Interrogator @ The Grand Geode - Dangerous | Watchful

Veteran of the War on Hell in 68’ and currently a respected doctor & chemist within the New Sequence, Laurence is a deadpan bastard who loves his work. All of it. Known for having a relationship with Isobel & Vincent that led to him becoming Beverley’s legal guardian after their deaths, as well as having complicated feelings about the Grand Geode’s authority. As loyal as he is to the Sequence, he’s even more loyal to the Beverley family.

The Gregarious Commander - Commander Vincent Beverley - He/Him - Commander & Recruiter @ The Grand Geode - Persuasive | Dangerous

One of the New Sequence’s most prolific recruitment officers, Vincent was a conman looking to profit off the Admiralty in the years following London’s fall… but lost himself entirely in the process. Now he’s deeply in love with Isobel, the woman that ‘saved’ him, as well as his favorite doctor. He’s frighteningly good at charming souls into joining the Dawn Machine’s light, in order to ‘save’ them too. Charismatic, silly, & utterly empty inside. Died mysteriously when Beverley was young. [Dead as of FL canon!]

The Discreet Artificer - Isobel Beverley - She/Her - Former Engineer @ The Grand Geode - Watchful | Shadowy

A former engineer that helped build the Dawn Machine, Isobel lost the majority of her sight after venturing deep into the Machine’s heart to perform an emergency repair. The experience left her with even more of an undying love for the machine, and now with the aid of her husband Vincent as a figurehead, she’s been creating her own sect on the Grand Geode. A soft spoken woman with a knack for manipulation and collecting unwell spouses. Died mysteriously when Beverley was young. [Dead as of FL canon!]

Side Game PCs:

The Wide-Eyed Venturer - Doctor-Captain Everett Shaw-Fitzpatrick - SSkies PC - He/They - Captain of the Uncommon Denominator - Hearts | Mirrors

Shaw and Vivian’s son, who spent his teen years raised on stories of their adventures in the Neath. Now, he’s taken to the skies to make a story of his own, after a brief stint learning medicine in Vienna. He’s got all the smarts, but none of the cutthroat energy of his parents. What could go wrong?

Inactive Characters:

The Rake-In-Violant / The Malcontent Seamstress - Emile Rainier - He/She - Light Fingers - ‘Socialite’ / Thief - Shadowy | Persuasive

The Everdrowned Reaver - Captain Verily - Sunless Seas PC - She/They/It - Captain of the Double or Nothing - Irons | Hearts

Character Tags:

#August Shaw

#B

#Vivian Fitzpatrick

#The Ravenous Acumen

#Officer Beverley

#The Hell Scarred Surgeon

#The Gregarious Commander

#The Discreet Artificer

#Lenore Shaw

#Doctor Captain Everett

#The Rake In Violant

#Captain Verily

Character Relationship Tags:

August Shaw & B - #Detective duo

A depressed detective set on revenge and a lost playwright drunk on freedom take up lodgings together. A strangely charged and mildly codependent friendship.

August Shaw & The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem Hotel - #cuneiform curses

Yeah, it turns out being wracked with guilt and constantly going insane has some consequences! In Shaw’s case, the consequences are catching some complicated feelings for the hat man. Go figure.

August Shaw & Vivian Fitzpatrick - #(un)loveable hand

The bloodthirsty wife he abandoned and the self flagellating husband she swore to surpass. Extremely complicated divorced couple who’ve changed in more ways than one.

The Shaw-Fitzpatrick Family (August, Vivian, Lenore, Everett) - #in the blood

A family charged with sorrow, who all seem to have a tendency to wield their pain like knives. General tag for the family’s background, themes, and vibes.

August Shaw & The Ravenous Acumen - #worst laid plans

An endless game of cat and mouse - or at least, it should be, provided the killer can get her chosen opponent to survive what’s coming. Psychosexual mind games, and weirdly supportive ones at that.

B & Officer Benedict Beverley - #best and brightest

Two best friends, perfect partners, who build a maddening machine. One chose their own ambition over the other’s safety - but who’s who is up for debate. Neither is entirely happy with the outcome. Longing, Cults, and heartbreak, o my!

Laurence, Vincent, & Isobel - #photokeratitis

The almighty Sequencer Throuple. Forged in cult indoctrination and violently codependent tendencies, these three have a complicated but deeply loving relationship built on trust and communication. This is a bad thing.

Doctor-Captain Shaw-Fitzpatrick & Skies!Beverley - #horseshoes and hand grenades

The most dangerous Captain of Her Majesty’s fleet… and the traveler that just can’t help but ruin his day. Religiously. Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner type shit until one of them gets feelings about it.

B & Emile Rainier - #red letter days

Vivian Fitzpatrick & Emile Rainier - #arsenic and old lace

[ash-imagines]

I SAW THE POST YOU MADE ABOUT HALLOWEEN REQUESTS AND I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS Guzma and reader hype up all of Team Skull for Halloween, and it becomes chaotic but in a good way! If that makes sense? Like maybe they throw a big party or smth!

Chaotic? With Team Skull? Never. /s

You have to really convince Guzma to dress up. He wants to, but he's afraid of seeming childish and goofy around the grunts. Thankfully, you're around to be his "excuse", since he can just say you roped him into it. As repayment, though, he has to agree to wearing a costume that matches yours.

Of course Guzma has nothing to worry about, the grunts adore him and your costumes get a ton of compliments. The only one who teases him is Plumeria and she's just being playful.

A handful of the grunts are watching scary movies, some of them are huddled in a circle exchanging candies, almost everyone is dressed up in some capacity, the whole place is alive with the spooky spirit. The only thing missing would be decorations but nobody wants to be the one that has to take them down so you've all decided to just... not decorate. It's easier and the place is already pretty eerie as it is.

There's just a random Gengar hanging around. They're not bothering anybody, they're drinking a soda, they're just chilling. Any other day you might try to catch this Gengar but today they're a guest at your party. It'd be pretty rude to try and catch a guest, so you and everyone else just leave them be.

Last year you and Guzma tried carving a pumpkin but it was a huge, sticky mess. Not to mention how the things rot after sitting outside long enough. Yuck. That's partly why you didn't decorate this year but maybe next year you'll get a plastic jack-o-lantern or something, just to be festive.

You and Guzma fall asleep well past midnight, curled up together under a blanket, watching a goofy slasher flick with enough fake blood in it to fill a swimming pool. It's about as scary as a Pichu, you spent the first 40 minutes laughing at it and the rest cuddling and sleeping.

[angeldrawsstuffs]

Thinking about both Movie!Frozengear and my Nutcracker AU rn so how about some late night Angel unpromptedly talking about her AU, huh?

Ok so, as a quick refresher for those who know of my AU and context for those who don’t: this AU takes place in the movieverse, which has been accidentally cursed by Master Chen and Clouse’s idiot (/neg) nephew Chad because Chad is stupid and thought he could use magic like Clouse. This caused the world (or- at least that continent, we haven’t actually established how far-reaching the curse is, but ANYWAY-) to change into one that follows the story of The Nutcracker and The Mouse King, looping back in on itself whenever the story goes too off-course (this leads to MANY loops before the showverse gang show up since they are all given prominent roles, like S!Kai being the Nutcracker Prince).

Now, with that too-long explanation out of the way…

Whint doesn’t exactly know what’s happening. He’s gathered that he’s in some kind of time loop, and to his knowledge is the only one who is aware of it (this is because of his Sixth Sense). He’s been trying to figure out why is husband suddenly makes toys and not machines, and also why everything is all… victorian and old timey. He’s tried waking his husband up so, so many times, tried to tell him what’s going on…

But Julian never believes him.

Whint wants to believe his husband can overcome whatever spell their world is under, but, try as he might, he can’t seem to break the curse, whatever it may be. Or, as cheesy as it may sound, his sheer willpower and love for his husband will break through.

If only it were that easy. It’s never that easy.

Now, Whint has his suspicions about what exactly the true nature of this all is, but doesn’t have enough evidence to prove any one theory. When he’s tried to stay up later to gather more information, Julian just drags him to bed, usually just before midnight (yes he loves cuddling his husband but there are more important matters at hand here-).

If Whint’s honest, he feels like he’s going crazy. Nobody will listen to him when he tries to explain anything, and he’s just dismissed as making some poor attempt at a joke. Not even Zane or Echo will take his claims seriously!

Eventually, about maybe 30-40 loops in, he’s about ready to just… give up because maybe HE’S the crazy one. Maybe he’s been the one losing it the whole time…

Lucky for him, he’s brought back to reality and has his suspicions confirmed by a familiar-faced wind-up tin soldier.

[fiercynn]

was in bed all day so i watched the entirety of the fall of the house of usher. i'm mixed about it overall, but i think it may have actually been the best plot-wise of the mike flanagan shows i've seen?

spoilers for all the mike flanagan tv shows except the midnight club (which i started and was intrigued by, but fizzled out on when i found out it had been cancelled) beneath the cut

my problem with both hill house and bly manor is that i think that plot-wise, they set up interesting stories and then can't stick the landing and go out with a whimper out at the end. they do an okay job with emotional arcs, but you can't entirely divorce the emotional journey from the bones of the story - at least, not in these kinds of stories - so the plot still matters, i think.

(imo midnight mass does not do that, it tells exactly the story it wants to tell and constructs it decently; i just found that story really boring lol.)

so while i think bly manor was still the most enjoyable of the shows to watch, the fall of the house of usher might be the best in my book at plot, and i enjoyed the way it used poe stories amd poetry with its own twists on them. and i think with a few changes could have been really good overall! here's what i would have changed:

less racism. i mean it was probably average amount of racist for both a flanagan show and, generally, a majority-white cast & crew american show, and i know the whole thing was about how horrible rich people are, but there was still so much casual racism, sigh

like 40% less monologuing. i know, i know, that's flanagan's whole deal, but it's still too much even when it's performed by actors as enjoyable as bruce greenwood and carla gugino, and isn't all about catholicism (sorry midnight mass fans)

pretty early on i thought that the reveal about what happened on new year's 1980 would be madeline and roderick killing rufus griswold. but then after roderick betrayed auguste at the deposition i was like "wait no that's too obvious, they must have killed annabel to keep her quiet about roderick's perjury" and honestly i think that would have been a better twist??? like even the bells they were hearing behind the wall made sense to me because her name was annabel! and it would have been a murder roderick felt guilty about on a personal level, and it might have made sense that he would take the deal from verna if her pitch was "you already sacrificed your wife who you loved. don't you want to make it worth it by having some certainty for you and your children for at least a number of decades?" so i was bored when my original predictable guess was right. i guess it fit better with the cask of amontillado to have it be rufus but still, less compelling

the scene with arthur showing pictures of verna throughout history was SO silly and hamfisted, i'm sorry. also the lemons speech, the worst kind of example of a flanagan monologue which thinks it's brilliant and is just...goofy

i thought maybe there was going to be a twist where lenore didn't die because her mom had actually cheated on freddie and i was upset that didn't happen :( i know it was meant to be a lesson, that roderick and madeline's deal had to apply even to the not-horrible members of the family, but i still hated it! sigh

i thought that both lulu wilson (child madeline) and willa fitzgerald (mid-20s madeline) did a much better job with the character than mary mcdonnell (senior madeline). idk something about her just didn't seem as ruthless and collected and cold?

also not a change exactly but why did no one comment on the fact that roderick and madeline usher, who are twins, one of whom was married at the time, decided to do a couples' costume as jay gatsby and daisy buchanan for new year's 1980. why

[tenshinokorin]

All right, folks, I'm going to tell you a story about why we need to teach people--especially cis males of a certain age group--to keep their goddamn mouths shut on the street when they feel they have some pearl of wisdom to drop about a stranger's appearance. This is, of course, mostly about me being fat and female-presenting, so it will bring up stuff about fatphobia, street harassment, and various other things. It's also about Stevie Nicks. Mostly, it's because this happened last month and is still bothering me, and that means I've missed my window to magically forget about it, so it has to go on file now with all the other fun street harassment encounters over the years that are likewise taking up valuable space in my brain and that come up to haunt me every time I think about going for a walk on a nice day. So maybe if I can unload this here I can go back to wearing my favorite sweatshirt in peace. 

For starters, I have a Stevie Nicks sweatshirt. I got it on clearance last year and like to joke that it is, in fact, the LEAST SteevishNickery kind of garment to have her face on it, which I think is really funny, like having a reproduction of the Sistine Chapel roof painted on the underside of your tool shed. It's also very soft and oversized and comfy, and it makes my on-the-spectrum brain feel safe and hugged without being smothered. That's a really big deal. It is in no way a flattering garment, and I do not care. I can deal with shit better if I have Stevie emblazoned on my tits, because how could you not feel better with that kind of protection? I've loved her since I was a kid, and of course loved her style as well, although as a fat girl in the 80's my options for imitating her look were limited. The sweatshirt is like a shortcut, though. I have worn this sweatshirt to the emergency room at midnight, I have worn it for days on end during depressive episodes, I have worn it to scary doctor appointments. I might not be able to face stuff myself sometimes, but hey, if Stevie's with me, I feel a little bit better. 

On the day in question I was wearing this sweatshirt because my parents were visiting. That should tell you all you need to know about my relationship with my parents. Especially since I tend to overdress on these occasions to try and preemptively fend off my mother's criticism about my appearance. This time, I said fuck it, I'm tired, I'm sick, I'm wearing Stevie. I'd been out to lunch with my wife and my folks, and since we'd parked downtown a ways from the restaurant and my mom is a little wobbly, I'd gone to go get the car and pick up everybody. 

So I'm walking up a busy downtown street to my car, my brain full of cold meds and the things that it's full of when you're managing aging parents and a relationship minefield, just trying to get the car so my wife won't be left on her own with them too long. And in the corner of my eye I see this guy. And I know. I know by the look of him that he's winding up what he thinks is a real zinger, and I also know by the look of him that he doesn't have the sense to keep his trap shut. I'm in my 40s, I've been fat my whole life, and you develop a sixth sense about these things. I know I don't have time or energy to deal with this kid, so I just keep trucking on to my car, but sure enough as I go by I hear him say: "Wow, it's like a Stevie Nicks made out of a thousand Stevie Nickses." 

I do not have time to deal with this asshole. My mom is right now standing on a street corner with my wife, probably asking her awkward questions about her mental health. I do not have time to whirl on this kid and tell him to shut his fucking face before I put it through the comic-shop window. I do not have the energy to tell him I'm old enough to be his mom and if I was I'd be ashamed to own up to it. I do not have the space to tell him--also fat, only barely groomed and dressed like a drunk toddler--he's no fucking prize himself. I just have to get to the car. 

Only now, my precious Stevie shirt is covered in his invisible shit. I try to reason out of it: maybe it's some Stevie meme I don't know, and he's doing that dumb thing where someone tries to strike up a conversation by referencing something they assume everybody knows, but even if that was the case, I know what's really going on. I had the gall to be walking down the street alone while being fat and female and unsmiling, and some manchild had to let me know what he thought about my body. 

I get in the car. I pick up my family. I go out and spend the day with them. And the whole time this event is still running on a background process in my brain, trying to extract the toxin, or at least dismiss it, so I can forget about it. There's plenty going on, so I think if I can focus on other stuff maybe the encounter will be overwritten and I won't remember it. My favorite safe shirt won't be ruined. 

It doesn't work, of course, or I wouldn't be writing this. I have no idea what we did after I picked them up, or anything in the hours between then and dinner. Memories with my family (problematic as they can be, but still very loved and not seen very often), are blotted out by this fleeting episode. And even though the sweatshirt's been washed multiple times since then and I have never seen that guy again, even though the whole thing took less than ten seconds, there it is, forever, in vivid color every time I wear or even think about my favorite shirt. And coming with it are all the other sidewalk occasions I don't want to remember either, when boys or men would scream at me about my ass from their car windows or from the safety of their groups, when for days after I would analyze everything I had been wearing, how I had been standing or walking, whether or not I was wearing too much makeup or not enough makeup, trying to figure out what I had done to deserve to be the target of ridicule. 

But I hadn't ever done anything except be fat, and nobody deserves mockery and abuse for that. Not you, not me, and not my poor Stevie sweatshirt hiding in my closet. I feel like Mabel Pines being sad about her sweater with the dog dunking a basketball because Pacifica said it was dumb. It's grade-school stuff and shouldn't even be there, either. Nobody should have to put up with this. 

Don't be that guy. Don't let your friends or your kids or anyone be that guy. You want to say something about my shirt? Say "Nice shirt" or "Stevie Nicks is a goddamn Queen." Or maybe just don't say anything at all. 

[wyattjohnston]

key take aways from the feedback i was given about the exchanges. i've responded to a few of the responses that were left :)

you can still leave feedback (even if you didn't participate, i'd be interested in why!)

i got a lot of love, too, which is nice. i don't do this to be praised or anything else but i also do love to know when people are having fun with it

What changes (if any) would you like to see?

Maybe like one or two people who are not writing in the fic exchange could act as "beta" and be there to bounce off ideas, help find gifs, give feed back on things that people are writing. Someone that we can talk to without fear of them telling the person we are writing for what the idea is/ worrying they are the person writing for "me". If that makes sense.

this is an excellent idea--i just don't know if it's feasible because most of the people who would act as a beta reader are usually signed up for the exchange

so! i absolutely cannot enforce a blanket ban on asking for help from another writer in the exchange and i wouldn't want to. the only thing you're 'ruining' at that point, is that you aren't writing for the person you've asked to beta. we had 43 people sign up this time around, that doesn't narrow it down too much.

if you do have a beta who is writing in the exchange, just be courteous and don't ask them anything about their fic, and do not put them in the awkward position of having to decline if you offer to beta theirs. also maybe don't put the name of the person you're writing for in the doc/doc title so you're not totally spoiling who the fic is for :)

i'm also around if you need help! it obviously would be impossible for me to help 40 people with brainstorming and editing, but i try to do what i can!

i could maybe add a new question like “would you be down to help someone else with fic ideas/being a beta?” and then if someone told me they needed some help, i could put some feelers out as to who would be best suited. i just don’t know if it would be a question a lot/enough people would agree to just because like i said up top, the people who would beta are usually already knee deep in their own fic

(not verbatim) a couple of suggestions to add a question about what the Main Character’s gender identity should be

will absolutely do this. i usually see people ask the question as an anon for reader insert preference so had taken for granted that that was happening <3

Maybe include a time zone in the deadline

i dont put a time zone with the deadline mostly because it makes it more confusing. if i were to do that i would make it Australian Eastern Time, like the sign ups, and i guarantee that fics will roll in towards midnight of the writers timezones anyway. all in all, the final date is purposely left without a time specific deadline because it gives people an extra day almost. i'll make it clearer that it's literally just midnight of whatever time zone the writer exists in

tbh even the sign up time isn't super hard and fast, as long as i haven't started matching yet then i'm not opposed to opening the form for a last minute entry

Do you have any other feedback?

If anything, maybe a mock-up of "starter questions" to send your match in case people are new and/or don't know quite what to say. That might be helpful.

i'll come up with some questions before the next one and put it in the matches have gone out post. if you've got suggestions, let me know. there’s no fool proof system to it. some people ask lots of questions, some ask very few. some people give super in depth answers and others prefer to let their writer run free

I like having the two-ish months to be able to write instead of a very fast and stressful turn around time

good news! two months is here to stay. giving the halfway and then 1 week follow ups seems to be the key to making sure people don't forget that they've signed up

What were the factors in you not signing up?

timing, re holidays & commitments

absolutely understand, it's not a great time of year with holidays and exams for a lot of people

nervous to sign up

please don't be! i know it's not as easy as that, but if it's something anyone wants to talk about (ever! now, in march, when sign ups open for the summer one), i want to talk to you!

if i see a new person has signed up and i haven't read their fics before, i don't go scrutinising their masterlist and i am never ever going to tell anyone that they're not good enough, or haven't written enough fics, or whatever, to sign up.

i want people to have fun with these and try something new (whether that's signing up in the first place or being adventurous with what they write)

I wasn't sure if I could commit to getting the story completed.

100% understand, writing to a deadline isn't for everyone! if you want to. if it's something you want to have a chat about, hit me up :)

What do you like most about the exchange?

i loved hearing that people enjoyed stepping out of their comfort zones and trying something new! and i also love hearing that people found new writers, my goal is to help make the community a little more *together*

[thestobingirlie]

So much fic seems to miss how different things were in the 80s compared to now (also seem to forget how long ago stranger things is set... like season 1 is set 40 years ago this year.)

One thing I notice it a lot in is the talking about video/ the setting with Steve and Robin working at family video and just how home media worked.

First part of it, you can always tell when someone only grew up with dvd/ bluray/ video on demand. Because VHS did not have home menus, scene selection, or an additional features menu. You put the tape in and the only options were play, pause, fast forward or rewind. And when people write DVD instead of VHS for what family video offer. Like that format did not come out until the mid 90's and didn't overtake VHS until the early-mid 2000's, which lead to the monstrosities that were the combo DVD/VHS player. (I even saw one fic where Steve and Robin had to rewind returned DVD's. That is just not how it works.)

A lot of the time I think people don't understand is how new accessible home video/ home media was. Like when Steve and Robin start at family video, VHS was less than a decade old. Home video that was accessible and available to the masses only really came about with Betamax in 75 and VHS in 76. And because of that it was expensive, which is why rental stores were such a big thing. In the mid 80's a normal single-tape VHS could easily cost $80-$90, which is the equivalent of over $200. When Back To The Future was released on VHS in 86 it cost $80. So when its written that someone (often Eddie) has rented the same movie a few times, and they have Steve or Robin say that it would be cheaper to buy a copy, it just doesn't make sense.

Then its the time between theatrical release and home release. It could easily be a year between theatrical release and VHS release (Using BTTF again, theatrical release date was July 3rd 1985, VHS release was May 22nd 1986. So nearly 11 months.) And film companies didn't just release their entire back catalogue onto VHS right away. They looked at what was in demand. (Disney didn't finish releasing their "classics" onto VHS until well into the 90's). The one I see people getting wrong the most in fic is The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Now I could see Robin and Eddie loving Rocky Horror, but they probably weren't all that aware of it. It was released in 75, but it wasn't available on VHS until 87 in the UK, and 1990 in the US, and it wasn't broadcast on TV until 93. Yes, there were midnight screenings in a lot of cities, but it was rated R, and they just might not have heard of it. (Sorry, but Rocky Horror is my other hyperfixation/ special interest and I could talk about it for hours on end). But, yeah, unless they'd managed to get hold of a bootleg copy, they probably hadn't seen it.

Sorry for the long ask, but this is just something that bugs me a little, because it would take just a few seconds to google it to find out if what they've written actually makes sense with the time it's set.

i read a fic that mentioned they were all watching a dvd and i literally stopped reading the fic. it just totally took me out of it.

obviously if you’re younger you won’t know as much about vhs, but it’s not that hard to find out (also, someone had to rewind dvds??? come on man, never having actually seen a vhs, sure. but have these people never watched a dvd??)

$80? that’s so expensive! i had no idea! i do love how you know so much about this tho lmao

people focus on the rocky horror picture show too much. i think it’s the only queer media they know from around the 80s, and while it’s fun, i really don’t think robin/steve/eddie would’ve known much about it, and if they did watch it, would probably be post st canon.

don’t worry about long asks! small things like that bug me too lol, especially because they’re so small it would take two seconds to look it up! but i guess if you’ve never really experienced 80s shit, you don’t even know you have to look stuff up.