#pls don't be a stranger

[firenati0n]

hello friends <3 thank you for all the tags, i know it has been a while. i haven't written anything since december beyond what i have snipped below, a fic i posted on ao3 last week after experiencing something personal and painful. the fic is neither, i promise! it is a space au full of yearning and hope. but some readers mentioned crying, so. your mileage may vary lmao

i wish i had more to share or something new, but i think this is going to be my last fic for a long long while. i know this isn't an airport and i don't need to announce my departure, but i wanted to say that so i didn't just randomly disappear off socials like i had intended. i really appreciate all the support and kindness over the last few weeks (and months, and year), especially this past one. i am proud to go out with this one. :)

i'm floating in a most peculiar way, and the stars look very different today :

There’s no such thing as snow in space. There is, however, a sophisticated array of screens on the ship that project images lining up with Earth seasons. Today it’s a flurry of snow against a familiar skyline. Winter in London. Henry stopped keeping track of things like months and cities and weather around thirteen years ago. The only unit of measurement that matters to him is how far away he is from his destination. DAVID—the Endurance spaceship’s Deepspace and Astrobiology Vault of Interstellar Data—says the screens are for Henry’s psychological wellbeing, that the void of space and unknown stars would slowly drive him to distraction, to insanity. But what good is sanity without humanity? The stars remind him that he’s a person, living and breathing and defying expectation. They remind him that he’s so close. The sharp pull in his gut intensifies.

thank you for reading and commenting and being a great community. grateful for good people. <3

xoxo roop

p.s. i anonymized my musician/icarus/orpheus and eurydice fp au people ruin people, i don't wanna ruin you, so subscribing to it is the best way to get updates, if that is of interest. not abandoned, just slow. thank you <3

tagging everyone back under the cut:

@cha-melodius @onthewaytosomewhere @sophie1973 @rockyroadkylers @saguaroblossom

@theprinceandagcd @porcelainmortal @run-for-chamo-miles @blueeyedgrlwrites @judasofsuburbia

@zwiazdziarka @sherryvalli @suseagull5914 @14carrotghoul @caterpills

@dumbpeachjuice @rmd-writes @tailsbeth-writes @ninzied @anincompletelist

@wordsofhoneydew @eusuntgratie @insecuregodcomplex @kiwiana-writes @alasse9

@onward--upward @whimsymanaged @priincebutt @welcometololaland @cheesecurdsgravyandfries

@tintagel-or-cockleshells @smc-27 @cricketnationrise @clottedcreamfudge @anchoredarchangel

@everwitch-magiks @seths-rogens @orchidscript @lilythesilly @incalamity

@indestructibleheart @leaves-of-laurelin @fairflowered @myheartalivewrites @thesleepyskipper

@miharaikko @shesfromboston @kj-bee @msmarvelouswinchester @jafffacakess

[scapegods]

he ran out of canvases

[ronancecore]

They switched outfit colors huhu

pink and blue perfectly fits well. If you mixed it. That's why they have that special bond, but have some kind of ups and downs. 'cause blue is cold color and pink is more in warm. (it's definitely opposite on their own.) colors can also indicate personality but it's hard to explain rn.(This whole explantation is not necessarily a canon, 'cause I'm not the one who wrote their characters. But it's cute if it added a little details for ronance.)

[mikesbasementbeets]

byler in every episode -> 2.08. the mind flayer

[jona-draws]

ugly bastard 🍄

[thursdaysyme]

I think Itd be funny if Steve accidentally became obsessed with puzzles but won't admit it the same way dads watch shows by standing off to the side. robin has them out and he complains but she finds him 2hrs later still standing doing puzzles and he's like a caught raccoon

[racketti]

My second fill for @harringrovesummerbingo!

B3 - Ice cold cocktails

I'm going a little VERY slow but I HAVE to complete it!!

[will80sbyers]

STRANGER THINGS 4 | S4E09

[jesncin]

Boundaries!!

Okay since I've been messaged across my soc med accounts at this point, I think I should make this boundary clear. Remember that even though you're getting to know me through my interests and art, that I'm still a stranger on the internet! I'm especially aware as a 30 yr old author that I'm in a space (fandom) with mostly people younger than me, so I have to be responsible with how I interact with people.

Please don't overshare personal information with strangers online unprompted. That's really dangerous! This isn't the same as people opening up to me because they connected with my stories or art, I'm extremely humbled to be trusted with those experiences. It's when people get overly familiar with me and are having an idealized excitement talking to me as a creator. I like being friendly and I cherish the friends I've made in fandom, but I still keep boundaries in the sense that I don't know any of you personally. I'm extremely private too. I know when something parasocial is going on.

This has been happening a bit (in the DMs) and I would hate to end up blocking people who enjoy my art just because they got overly excited interacting with me. I am not equipped to deal with the personal life of strangers. Please be careful out there.

[bylertruther]

will when he told the police that el hitting angela with a roller skate was an accident and also when he defended her and max spying on them last summer

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 30th:  Costumes | Children of the Grave - Black Sabbath | Loyal [1.9k, rated T] read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

“No, no, no, no—” Gareth protests, ducking the Donkey costume mask that Eddie tosses his way backstage. “Not again! Dude, that thing smells like having a condom over your face and it’s impossible to drum in. I’m not doing it this year. No way. Someone else is taking one for the team this time.” 

Eddie cackles, trying not to cry with laughter and smudge his green face paint. “Decide amongst yourselves then, but someone is wearing it. We’ve gotta commit.” 

Jeff snorts and shakes his head. “No chance, why can’t someone be like, Fiona or something?” 

“We need Donkey! He’s crucial to the story!” Eddie rolls his eyes and walks over to grab the mask. “Okay, circle up. We’re gonna Rock, Paper, Scissors this. On my count.” 

The rest of the band huddles around and Eddie counts to three. Gareth throws rock and celebrates as Frank and Jeff both throw scissors. 

“Redemption!” He celebrates as Eddie counts Frank and Jeff in for three. 

In the end, Frank gets stuck with the Donkey costume, Jeff reprises his Pinocchio costume, and Gareth steals Farquaad out from under Frank in the Rock, Paper, Scissors coup. No one is particularly happy, but Eddie doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t care because Shrek Night is his favorite show of the year. Since its inception a few years earlier, entirely by accident when Eddie was forced to perform as Shrek as a dare, it’s become something of a cult classic among Corroded Coffin fans. The last show they play before Halloween is a costume night, and the fans have taken to the theme like, well, like an ogre to mud. 

There’s something incredibly special about screaming the lyrics to their latest hit while a sea of Shreks and Gingys and Fionas scream along with him. 

And tonight is no different. 

—

“Shreddie! Shreddie! Shreddie!” 

The crowd roars to life as the group takes the stage, waddling in costumes and maybe a little itchy from body paint and latex masks. 

“Give it up for Donkey on the bass!” Eddie shouts, pointing to Frank. He gives his best, saddest wave. 

“Give it up for Pinocchio on the guitar!” He yells again as Jeff hammers a riff in response and grins in his fedora and suspenders. 

“And last but certainly not least, give it up for Lord Farquaad on the drums!” Gareth drums a little rimshot as the hat pokes out over the top of his high hat. How he plans on drumming the whole night crouched on his knees is beyond Eddie, but ultimately not up to him. 

The crowd goes insane, as usual, and Eddie takes a second to soak it all in, to glance over the various costumes before everyone melds into one collective unit of chaos. Fairy Godmothers, and Donkeys, and Fionas as far as the eye can see. He even spots a Puss in Boots in the front of the pit, standing next to a very attractive Gingy. 

He doesn’t have time to assess the life choices that lead him to have that particular thought though, because Gareth starts counting them in. 

—

Their originals are hits, of course, as are the covers. After all, it wouldn’t be a true Shrek Night without at least a couple of songs from the famed movies. 

“And then I saw her face!” He shrieks, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Now I’m a believer!” 

He runs around the stage, careful not to lose the microphone (again) as Jeff, Gareth, and Frank pound away at the melody. As the song comes to a close, Eddie slides on his knees, hardly protected by the cheap beige pants from Walmart, to the edge of the stage. 

“Not a trace! Of doubt in my mind! I’m a believer!” He sings, drawing out the final note. 

Chants and applause follow him up and he falls to his back, guitar over his chest, pounding his feet and fists on the stage as he catches his breath. Green paint melts from his forehead and when he brushes his hair back, he pulls his fingers away to see shades of ogre paint that’s surely made its way into his hairline. 

Before he can stand, Gareth shouts into his microphone, presumably to give Eddie another second or two. It’s no secret that I’m A Believer is high octane. 

“Do you know…” Gareth pauses for effect before shouting. “The muffin man?” 

Before the crowd yells out together, jumbled and out of sync, a faux high-pitched voice rings out surprisingly close to Eddie’s feet. 

“The muffin man!” 

He sits up and spots him: the hot Gingy he’d noticed earlier, laughing with a scrunched up nose, leaning on his friend’s shoulder. 

Oh, fuck me, Eddie thinks. He’s adorable. 

It’s usually the other way around: Eddie being ogled by a fan in the front row, staring up at him like he’s something to eat, like he’s prey. Ignoring them is easy enough, typically appeased with just a smile or a wink to carry with them forever, but this guy? The one with the fuzzy brown onesie with purple button and white, pretend icing lining the legs and waist? Well, Eddie’s never actually wanted a fan in the front row to look at him until now. 

So he scoots to the end of the stage, legs dangling over the edge, and steals Gareth’s line. Grinning down at the guy pressed to the railing, he screeches. “The muffin man!”

Gingy’s friend, known only to him at this point as Puss in Boots, elbows him hard in the ribs and he looks up to see Eddie staring right at him, crooked grin, and in hindsight, probably a bit more unhinged than planned. 

His friend looks back and forth between them, disbelief in the shape of her mouth and furrowed forehead, but it seems to work because Gingy returns the smile and has the audacity to wink at him. 

Eddie raises his green brows towards his hairline and nods appreciatively. The barricade isn’t far from the edge of the stage, close enough for Eddie to leave the microphone to the side and ask Gingy and his friend to hang back after the show. 

—

After one crowdsurfing escapade from Jeff, one quip into the microphone from Gareth about how he now understands why Farquaad is always so cranky, and few more of the originals peppered with All Star and Bad Reputation covers, Corroded Coffin takes an awkward but well-deserved bow. The crowd cheers for more, even after their encore, but eventually filter out through the venue’s exit doors, flooding the parking lots and nearby streets with Shrek characters. 

Eddie’s sure the local bars are having a blast. 

The only fans left are Gingy and Puss in Boots, who Eddie desperately needs the real names of before his thoughts turn into a troubling Shrek fanfiction. With a quick word to their manager, Chrissy, he makes sure they won’t leave before he comes back with a plan— a very weird, very niche plan that he hopes works on the presumably dorky, albeit confident, man in the fuzzy onesie. 

Her wings bump him in the shoulder and remind him that she truly is his Fairy Godmother. 

“Eddie,” Jeff deadpans as he plops his prop fedora on the backstage table and unfastens the buttons of his suspenders. “Are you really about to go hit on a fan? Dressed as Shrek? With an onion?”

“Do you have a better idea?” He whirls on him, a lone onion from a backstage fridge somewhere in one hand and a sponge trying to at least clean up his face paint in the other. He’s sure he looks insane. And he may as well be at this point. 

“Uh, don’t? That’s the better idea?” Frank offers in the corner, his face red and sweaty from the suffocating Donkey mask. 

“Not an option, so Operation Onion is on. I’ll be back. Or not. Hopefully not, actually.” Eddie shakes his head and sets down the makeup sponge, places the onion in his prop burlap bag. “Wish me luck!” 

Gareth sighs with ice packs on his knees. “Nope.” 

—

Eddie approaches the open backstage area, the spare lounge where Chrissy’s talking with Gingy and Puss in Boots. Maybe talking a little more intently to Puss in Boots, but he can’t begrudge her. After all, Eddie’s doing the same thing, isn’t he? 

He catches a bit of the conversation before opening the door, overhearing Chrissy refer to them as Steve and Robin. 

Thank God, he thinks to himself. Better than the placeholders. 

By no means does Eddie consider himself a rockstar— not yet, anyways. He enjoys the mid-level shows he gets to do with his friends, especially on nights like this, but he’s yet to harness that rockstar swagger. At his core, he’s still the marginally insecure, frantic kid from Bumfuck Nowhere, Indiana who paints D&D miniatures and speaks Elvish. And dresses up as Shrek, apparently. 

All of that to say, his heart pounds in his chest and his tongue feels twisted around itself when he knocks on the door. 

“Oh, hey, Eddie! Come on in! Great show tonight!” Chrissy smiles, wide and bright, as she introduces Steve and Robin. “This is Steve, and this is Robin. Steve, Robin, you all know Eddie. Or, should I say, Shreddie?” 

All three groan and shake their heads in good nature. 

“To be fair, man, you are still in the get-up. I thought you were going backstage to change or something.” Steve teases, eyes full of mirth and challenge. 

Exactly Eddie’s type. 

“And leave the three of you dressed up and feel out of place? Not a fucking chance.” Eddie takes a breath and goes for it, channeling his years of drama and general theatrics. 

He goes to take his seat on the sofa and pretends to trip, his burlap bag tipping over in time for his onion to fall to the floor at Steve’s feet. 

“Shit, sorry, that’s my onion,” Eddie shrugs. “Happens sometimes. Ogre and all, y’know? By the way, you’re gorgeous.” 

“Oh my God,” Chrissy mutters under her breath and ducks her head, leaning an elbow on Robin’s shoulder and covering her eyes. 

Steve’s mouth falls open into a little O and sits quietly for a few beats, nothing but the girls chuckling off to the side and an onion between them. Eddie’s about to swallow his tongue and see himself out when Steve leans forward and picks it up, tossing it up in the air above his head and catching it like a baseball. 

“Looks like you dropped this. And uh, thanks. I could say the same to you.” 

Robin wheezes and doubles over. “Jesus Christ, Steve. I know I’m a lesbian and all but this? This is what works on you?” 

Eddie likes her already, and a quick glance to Chrissy tells him Chrissy does, too. 

“Is this Ogre discrimination? Do I have to explain that we have—”

“Layers!” Steve finishes for him, nudging her in the ribs. “Ogres have layers, Rob. Don’t be so close-minded, God. Besides, he’s half melted and just ransacked backstage for an onion. Don’t judge our mating rituals.” 

Mating rituals? Eddie grins with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “Yeah, what he said.” 

Robin just shakes her head and gestures with one hand at the air between the two men, speechless. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go see if this sweaty, half-melted, babbling Onion Man wants to make out or something.” Steve slaps his hands on his thighs, still covered in fuzzy material, and stands. “What do you say?” 

When he shows up backstage to introduce Steve to the rest of Corroded Coffin, both of their faces are now smeared with green paint and Steve sports painted handprints in some telling places. 

Eddie gives them a bright smile and jazz hands, his friends’ expressions are as impressed as they are confused.

Shrek Night really is his favorite show of the year. 

tagging people who expressed interest <3: @cuips-not-cute @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @useless-nb-bisexual @kkpwnall@cuoredimuschio @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly@ohmagicalunicornlord @hellion-child @bxnsheeslxdia @pomegranatebb @vampeddie @horsegirleddiemunson @stobinesque @sidekick-hero @medusapelagia @slipperygiraff @epiclazershark @bayouteche thank you to @nostalgicbones for beta-reading and inspiring this!

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Ok if i'm gonna write an actual fanfic i need to take the timeline seriously. Especially with the three Plantar siblings' ages.

So in canon Anne is 13, Sprig is 10 and Polly is 5. If I want Anne to arrive to Amphibia at 3, Sprig must be a newborn and Polly wouldn't have been born yet. Which means the Plantar parents must still be alive for some 2 more years, and die when Anne is 5, Sprig is 2 and Polly is a newborn AT LEAST.

But I don't want that. I want Hop Pop to find Anne the exact same day the herons killed his child. Make it poetic. That would make Sprig a newborn and Polly an... egg?? Thinking about eggs could help delay some things but I doubt frogs in Amphibia have gestation periods longer than 1 year, so even if they laid Polly's egg like one day before dying, you still need to keep the Plantar parents around for one year. That, or delay Anne's arrival by one year and have her land in Amphibia at age 4, but I also want to push it back as much as possible, to bring her to Amphibia as young as possible. Is 4 really the youngest I can go? The other option is to mess with the ages a little and make Polly a bit older. Or just not think about it this much. I can just say Anne spawned there at age 3 when Sprig was a newborn and Polly an egg. Let's say Polly hatches one year later at the latest. Now Sprig is 1, Anne is 4 and Polly is a newborn. Nope, no no no, Polly needs to be younger. Okay so if I want her to be a recently laid egg when her parents die, Sprig needs to be around 4 at least. And Anne needs to be at least 7.

I hate this. Ugh. But I don't want Anne to meet the Plantar parents! The whole point is that she never had actual parent figures! That Sprig and Polly's bond with their dead parents is something she can't share! Something that sets her apart! Something that will lead her to seek out her birth parents 20 years later when she finds out Hop Pop lied to her and hid the Calamity Box, coincidently at the same time that her marriage with Marcy and Sasha is falling apart! Or should I just kill my darlings and accept Anne will be adopted by the Plantar parents? I don't wannaaaaa 😭 I want them to remain a mystery! I want them to haunt the narrative without ever being present! Having Anne meet them ruins the poetic aspect!

The other option is reducing Anne and Sprig's age gap maybe?? Sprig is 4 when his parents die and Anne could be 5??? Noooo, the big sister - little brother dynamic is ruined if they're so close in age!

If anyone has suggestions pls send them i'm STUCK

[heartsgettingwiser62]

Mike's definition of normal went from this, caring for his best friend when he went missing (regardless of the reason people said he went missing) and willing to do anything to find him:

To this:

A.k.a., what Mike used to think was normal vs what society taught him 'normal' was.

Bonus:

[bloobfish-exe]

‏Hello,

‏My name is Suhail, and I live in Gaza. My family and I are going through unimaginable hardships because of recent events. Our home was completely destroyed, and we now live in a makeshift tent that barely protects us from the cold winter nights or the scorching summer heat.

‏Every day is a struggle to meet basic needs like food, clean water, and medicine. Despite these challenges, we remain hopeful and determined to rebuild our lives and find stability for our children.

‏Your support, no matter how small, could change our lives. We are raising funds to build a safe shelter and cover essential needs for our family.

‏Together, with your kindness, we can create a brighter future and help our children dream again.

‏Thank you from the depths of my heart for any help you can provide.

https://gofund.me/63127503

-💜💜💜

[mikesbasementbeets]

byler in every episode -> 2.09. the gate

[demondog27]

The Duffers be creating history by naming the finale

I can't I'll cry 😭