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griefabyss69 · 7 months

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@zombiethingy and @steddieas-shegoes both tagged me!!! Thanks for the tags <3 <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25! All from this year <3 6 of them are microfics but everything else is around 1K - 21K! I've never in my life written this much lmao

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

129,098! That's a lot for me <3

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far just Stranger Things!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Still Motion (Paraphilia 01)

Last Man Standing (First fic in the LARP AU series)

Between Light and Darkness (First in the Vampire Eddie series)

Acceptance and Negation (Paraphilia 02)

Hell Patrol (First in the Apocalypse AU series)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes!!! There's only one or two I didn't and that's because they were rude

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think any of mine have an angsty ending tbh... Mostly because I write a lot of porn but also because even when I write for myself to vent there needs to be a way through all of the horrible shit. Otherwise I'm just adding stress to my life!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'd say they're all fairly happy with a similar type of end goal! HOWEVER....... there's one I have planned that might stand above the rest in terms of happy endings, but it's like... a long term project that I have no idea when I'm even going to properly start.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I haven't! I usually moderate comments, and the rude ones I got were more of the 'you clearly missed the mark of what I wrote' or not finding a polite/nice way of asking me to continue writing the fic

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! The realistically unrealistic kind! Also, usually involves some kind of BDSM or kink related thing.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I won't say I'll never do it but I don't even have another fandom I'd be willing to write for at this time, let alone smash them together.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, unless I haven't come across it! I think it's cool if someone gets inspired by something I write though, especially anything that's not already common in ST fandom!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it'd be cool if someone wants to!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't! I've like.... done a lot of yelling about potential things to write though. I have a lot of WIPs because of some of you LMAO I think the actual writing part of things is a very solitary activity for me usually, but I'm open to trying something short and sweet with someone (if things like time and energy line up as well)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Steddie, if we don't consider fandoms I'm no longer actively reading things for! However I'm pretty easy to please, I love Steve and Eddie as characters and so seeing them in other ships (like Stommy and Hellcheer or a threesome version etc) is always a good time!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have two fics I started writing before I wrote the first one I published. They're important to me and also my writing has changed so much that I'm scared to even try editing them, because I don't want them to lose that specific thing they have that I might not be able to conjure back up.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Tension, when I get it right, it becomes the best thing about what I've written, no matter what the context is! Also I keep finding I write gay sex between two friends who are in love but just haven't Gotten To That Part yet, so I'd also say an emotional slowburn but a sexual flashfire.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Outlining, keeping up with motivation if I at all try to organize or plan in on purpose. I have to trick myself, like hiding a little pill in a piece of cheese, in order to have planning and organization in a fic. That's part of the reason why I operate in series instead of really long multi-chapter fics, because that's one way I can hide the pill from myself.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I haven't ever and I don't know if I'd be confident enough in my resources to do that! But it's cool when other people do.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

...so I was like 11 years old writing Inuyasha and Kagome...

ST is the first fandom I've published for in over a decade AND it's the first fandom that I've published more than one fic for.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

That's really hard to answer. I really like a lot of aspects from all of them! Dive (microfic, july prompt "pool", body worship) was my favourite for ages, though. And it's still my fave microfic for sure!!

Acceptance and Negation might be my favourite longer fic, there's just something about the antagonism and complicated feelings about being so horny over everything that I find really fun to write!

No pressure tags!!!! @vecnuthy @wormdebut @hbyrde36 @penny00dreadful @stobinesque and anyone who wants to do it! <3

#fun things #chats from the abyss

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sushigirlali · 6 months

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Bad Idea Right? - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III (Complete!)

Summary: Rey Niima realizes she may not be over Ben Solo when Hux’s social media posts show her ex-boyfriend is moving on at Poe’s Halloween party. Donning a matching costume purchased before their breakup, Rey decides to stop running and confront him. Horny Halloween hijinks ensue!

Pairings: Rey/Ben, Rose/Hux, Finn/Poe

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: I wrote the outline for this on my phone with speech to text while stuck in traffic and listening to Olivia Rodrigo 😂 Happy spooky season, rats! I was definitely inspired by some reylo/hellcheer Halloween art I’ve seen recently as well 😛

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

Bad Idea Right? - Part I

By: sushigirlali

——————

Boston, MA

Friday, October 24

——————

Hey

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months

But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up

And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone

And I'm sensin' some undertone

——————

Rey Niima had a problem. Was it a problem of her own making? Perhaps. But it was a problem nonetheless.

After swearing off men and dating and love for the last two months, she was lonely and bored and horny. More specifically, she was horny for her ex-boyfriend Ben Solo. It had been exactly 62 days since their breakup (yes, she had been counting), and every night without him was worse than the last.

The urge to text him was almost overwhelming at times, but she tried to see it as an exercise in control. It made her feel a little better, to have a goal. Even if the goal was to ruin her own life.

Rey blew out an irritated breath, moving her unwashed brown hair away from her face. She really should shower and change after a long day’s work, but she just didn’t care. Flopping down on her bed in an oversized blazer and yoga pants, she wondered whether Ben was thinking about her just then as well. It was hard to focus on things like hygiene and personal needs (beyond what was strictly necessary on a mandatory zoom call) when there wasn’t anyone around to judge you.

“Or praise you,” she thought wistfully, because Ben used to praise her for the tiniest, sweetest things…

Rolling over onto her stomach, crushing the front of her semi-professional blazer, Rey pressed her face into her battered, space-themed comforter and screamed.

——————

And I'm right here with all my friends

But you're sendin' me your new address

And I know we're done, I know we're through

But, God, when I look at you

My brain goes, "Ah"

——————

The breakup had been stupid, really. Or, she was stupid.

Near the end of August, on the date of their four year anniversary, Ben had planned an elaborate scavenger hunt for her through the city. And at the end of the trek, there had been a box and a question.

She could still remember the pain in his dark eyes when she refused him, the slump in his broad shoulders as he balanced on one knee, the quiver of his lips…

Rey pushed her guilt aside and focused on the other ways his lips had made her feel over the years. They were full and plush, with a tendency to hike up on one side when he grinned. And when he kissed her, sometimes she forgot her own name. And when he didn’t stop kissing her until she begged for more, slipping his lips hotly down her cheek, her throat, her breasts, her stomach… Well, she liked those memories most of all.

Stripping out of her house clothes, she tossed them onto an existing pile of dirty clothes by the foot of the bed. Ben would be horrified that they didn’t immediately go into the hamper, but again, he wasn’t around and she just didn’t care. At any rate, it wasn’t like one pile of junk was going to ruin the ambiance of her small, dingy apartment.

Which honestly just felt like another fitting punishment for breaking Ben Solo’s heart. “Not that I could afford anything better on my own,” she lamented, thinking about the mountain of student loan debt she owed.

Shaking her head to clear it, she went back to disrobing, removing her favorite lace bralette and matching panties and tossing them aside as well. She didn’t even know why she’d bothered to keep the very expensive, yet impractical cream ensemble besides years of childhood poverty making her thrifty. It definitely wasn’t because they were a gift from Ben and he loved peeling them off her.

“Don’t think about… actually, no. That works.”

Rey stretched to retrieve her cell phone from the bedside table and navigated through her contacts to the entry entitled “Ben Solo.” Her finger hovered over the call button for a second, the thought of hearing his deep voice again tempting, but she chickened out.

“I really should have deleted his number by now, or blocked him at the very least.” But he hadn’t texted or called in 62 days, and she hated how hopeful it made her that he still could.

Closing her contacts, she opened the files app instead and unlocked a folder titled “Gardening Tips 🍆💦” with an extremely long and complicated password. Biting her lip as sultry images flashed before her eyes, Rey leaned back against her second-hand cotton bedspread, which had been washed so many times that the thin fabric felt like silk against her bare skin.

The first few photos were of Ben’s hands, his long, tapered fingers and calloused palms. Despite his family’s wealth, Ben liked to work with his hands at his firm’s tech lab. He was an engineer, like her, so she understood the need to tinker.

Rey imagined those hands on her body again, running one of her own across her taut stomach to cup one of her small breasts. The pads of her fingers weren’t nearly as rough as his, she usually worked on sketching designs instead of with hard materials, but a picture was worth a thousand words as they say.

“Ben,” she whimpered, flicking through a few more photos before finding some of his face and chest.

He was smiling in a lot of them, something he rarely did around anyone but her, his expression intimate and open. Or, at least, that had been the case when they were…

Zooming in on his chest, she traced the curve of his muscles, the shape of his trim waist, the blush of his nipples, touching herself in each of those locations in turn. But it wasn’t enough.

Backing out into the folder, she skipped down to pictures of his ass, his cock, of them together. “Fuck.” She flushed with arousal at one particular set from the night before they broke up.

Ben was deep inside her, his pubic hairs meshing with hers, his thumb on her clitoris, her body contorted. Every frame showed a different angle of his penetration, from her point of view.

Lifting her knees, she bent her legs toward her chest, trying to mimic the position, before flipping open the camera app and snapping a few new photos. She wanted to recreate the scene, but it was too difficult to hold the filthy position and touch herself at the same time without Ben pressing down on her hips.

Annoyed, she hit the share button and sent off one of the new full frontal nudes to her man before thinking better of it.

Then, “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck!” Scrambling upright, Rey stared at her phone in horror. Ben wasn’t her man anymore and she had no right to send him unsolicited sexts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—FUCK!”

Rey jumped as her screen lit up: Ben was calling her.

——————

Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

——————

Rey was frozen solid for the first three rings, but on the fourth, she impulsively hit the talk button. Hitting that button meant she’d hear his voice again, it meant he hadn’t blocked her either, it meant…

“Rey?” he said hesitantly, her name from his lips immediately heightening her arousal.

Her jaw worked up and down, but no sound came out. She wanted to respond, to keep him talking, but what could she say? Sorry I haven't called? Sorry I’m such a mess? Sorry I ruined our lives?

“Rey, why did you send me that picture?”

“I–I’m..”

“Are you still naked?” His tone was neutral, but the question still brought heat to her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Did you just take that pic? Is that what your pussy looks like right now?” His voice became gruffer.

“Yes.”

“Are you keeping your curls tidy for any particular reason?” He was stern now, or was it jealous? Maybe a bit of both.

“No,” she said, because, “I’ve ignored every other aspect of my hygiene except a biweekly bikini wax in case you ever wanted to eat me out again,” was insane.

“Good girl,” he said warmly.

Praise. Ben was praising her. “Fuck.”

Rey propped herself up on several pillows, put the phone on speaker, and set it on her chest with the microphone facing her mouth. Using one hand to pull her right leg up and back, the other slid between her legs. “Ben, I’m so wet.”

He blew out a breath. “Fuck, Rey. Do you need my help, baby?”

She nodded but then realized he couldn't see her. Clearing her throat, she said, “Yes, please,” very politely.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled. Then, with more heat, “Are you touching yourself already?”

“Yes.”

“Where? How are you positioned?”

She told him and he groaned. “I’m so turned on, Ben, but it just isn’t the same without…” She cleared her throat. “What should I do?”

“I want you to run your index and middle fingers over your slit,” he commanded.

She did as he said and sighed into the receiver.

“That’s it, baby. Do that until you’re so slick my thick cock could slip in without a hitch.”

She pictured him over her, touching her, fucking her. “Oh, god, I am!”

“You’re doing so good,” he praised. “Now slowly spread your lips and slip your fingers inside.”

“Okay,” she panted, swirling her fingers around her opening before sinking them knuckle deep in her pussy. “They–they're in.”

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Good. Really good. But I wish it was your fingers, Ben, they’re so thick.” Shit. She shouldn’t have said that.

He choked out his next demand, clearly affected by her statement. “Drop your leg, baby, and use your free hand to massage your clit. If I were there with you, I’d keep you open so wide, but you need to use both hands for me.”

“Okay,” she said, the image of him pinning her down with his big body flashing through her mind.

“Now close your eyes,” he murmured. “Are they closed?”

“Yes, Ben.”

“Picture me while you pump your fingers inside your cunt and rub your clit with your other thumb.”

“Ohhhh!” she moaned, doing his bidding. Her sheath clenched around her fingers as he continued to whisper into her ear, telling her how sexy she was, how much he loved this, how good he wanted to make her feel.

“Are your nipples hard?”

“So hard!” She didn’t even know what she was saying anymore, she just wanted to please him.

“Is your pussy dripping all over your sheets?”

“Yes!” she screamed, rubbing, straining, curling and twisting her fingers until a flood erupted between her splayed thighs.

Ben talked her through the blinding orgasm, her first since they had parted, until she calmed several minutes–hours?–later.

“Rey?”

“Hmm?” Rey was breathless, her body tingling and satiated.

“I have to go now.”

Her euphoria shifted into confusion and hurt, which was rich considering he had just helped her get off and asked nothing in return. “Oh, okay. Uh–thank you.” Then, her deep-seeded fear of rejection taking control, she quickly disconnected the call before he could say anything more.

——————

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine

——————

Rey pulled her comforter tighter around naked body, trying to smother out the light streaming through her window. During the excitement last night she had forgotten to pull the blackout curtains closed.

“Ugh,” she grumbled when her phone buzzed a few times in quick succession.

Sticking her hand out of the warm cocoon, she blindly felt around for the device before pulling it back under the covers. Switching the light setting to dim, she read:

Ben: Good morning, sweetheart ❤️‍

Ben: Rey, are we really doing this again?

Ben: I know what it meant to me, but what did last night mean to you?

She sighed her favorite word in lieu of doing anything productive. “Fuck.”

Fiddling with the phone, she started texting him back several times, writing and rewriting a positive message, a negative one, something neutral, but in the end she turned it off without sending anything.

She knew she should respond, that he’d take her silence to mean last night meant nothing, but she was scared. Last night was incredible, he was incredible, and he hadn’t even touched her. Just his voice had reduced her to a quivering mess, bringing back all her memories of them together. Sexual and otherwise.

Rey swore again, frustrated that she hadn’t gotten him out of her system. “It was just one call, idiot. It’s not like you fucked him again.”

But that couldn’t happen. Her dumb heart wouldn’t be able to stand letting him go twice.

——————

Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

"I only see him as a friend, " the biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed

——————

A/N: I intended for this fic to be a one-shot, but whoops it’s >10K words of feelings and smut. Part II coming tomorrow! Happy All Hallows’ Eve Eve!!

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #kylo ren #ben solo #my fanfiction #sushigirlali #happy halloween rats

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astorytotellyourfriends · 4 months

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twenty questions for fanfic writers

i was going through my likes and realized @deliriumsdelight7 tagged me over a month ago MY BAD SORRY LOVE U

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

255 😅

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3,267,300 😅😅

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently only for stranger things, but in the past i've written for julie and the phantoms, 1d, shadowhunters, young royals, and 911.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

can't help falling in love with you

keep me up all night

tell me how to feel about you now

if we don't leave this town (we might never make it out)

underneath (some calm exterior)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do! i like doing it :)

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ohhh that's definitely always have & always will. a close second is the new one before i bury you lol

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

literally any of my other fics hahahaha i love a happy ending!!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not so much on the fic itself but hate as part of larger fandom issues bc people are mean to total strangers on the internet for no fuckin reason

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

all the kinds, probably. i'm sure there's a few kinks i haven't and will never write but i'm open to most things. (and hilariously in connection to the previous question, my writing smut is one of the reasons i got hate in my last fandom)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i mean, not really unless you count AUs as being crossovers lol. i once had an idea for a teen wolf/1d crossover but it never got off the ground.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yes and it SUCKED. fuck that douchebag and fuck wattpad.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had a couple people ask over the years but i've said no 😅 idk what it is but i just feel weird about it

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes! once with @cunnninghams and i've got a few in the works with @cyraclove 🥰

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

ughhhhhh don't do this to me i can't answer!

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

lol unfortunately i think i roll til i change my luck might wither away into nothingness before i ever finish it

16. What are your writing strengths?

i like to think that i'm good at writing realistic dialogue and maybe describing scenes like they're in a movie bc that's how i see everything i write in my head.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

brevity.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

the few times i've done it i've gone to someone who's fluent to double-check my dialogue bc i don't wanna be That Person

19. First fandom you wrote for?

lololololol simple plan back in the days of bandom and no u cannot find that fic anywhere thank u

20. Favorite fic you've written?

oof another tough question, but off the top of my head i'd say the hellcheer mechanic au. lots of good memories writing that one 💛

tagging @magicalrocketships, @dearmrsawyer, @alexenglish, @cyraclove, @medusasfinalgirl, @hangon-silvergirl, @a-strange-inkling, and anybody else who hasn't been tagged already and wants to do it!

#about my fic

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deliriumsdelight7 · 5 months

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Twenty Questions for Fanfic Writers

I was tagged by the lovely @kelyon. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

37. Please don't ask how many are finished lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,126,833. Woof.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Once Upon a Time (and any other Bobby works for Anyelle purposes), Stranger Things.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

One More Time, Steal My Breath

C.F.C.

We Could Be Invisible

What You'd Thought Lost

You Think You're Tough (I'll Call Your Bluff)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Ughhhhhh. I've been REALLY BAD about responding to comments for the past year. I wound up marking ALL of my unread comments as read and just starting over with new comments because it was so stressful. Only I would turn the act of responding to compliments into A WHOLE ORDEAL.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Yyyyyeah, see, that implies that I finish my fics, lol. Angstiest ending goes to "A World Gone Very Wrong," which was a gift fic for the amazing @toguchindraws. They wanted an open ending, so that was what they got!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Almost all of my fics have (or will have) happy endings. I guess the one with the most nauseatingly happy ending would have to be What You'd Thought Lost.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I mean, a pairing I ship has gotten me accused of being a racist and fatphobic. Which is kind of funny, because 1.) they obviously didn't read the fic, 2.) I drew on my own experiences as a fat woman, and 3.) I had thin people telling me that they hated and failed the Presidential Fitness Test as much as I did! And as for the racist bit... I already addressed that in a rant earlier today.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope. Never written smut in my life. I haven't written tentacle smut or Daddy kink or period sex or ritualistic sex based on pagan sabbats.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Anyelle inherently involves crossovers, so yes. I also snuck brief Rumbelle into a Hellcheer fic. What I'm really looking forward to writing is a Once Upon a Time/Stranger Things crossover where Eddie and Chrissy were citizens in the Enchanted Forest and were brought to Storybrooke by Regina's curse. It'll basically be a half-assed season 1 AU featuring Hellcheer and Rumbelle.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. I don't think I'm popular enough for that to happen. Also, most of my fic is kinda weird so I doubt anybody would steal it. People who steal fic seem like they want the latest popular thing. I'm not saying "wurrrr my fic is SO UNPOPULAR" because I know it's not. Just... it would stand out.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if someone wanted to, I'd be cool with it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have a stalled fic with @phoenixwrites that would be a Hellcheer/VanQuinn crossover (which is hilarious because I find real people far too boring to ship). I need to get back to that.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Listen. I can't pick just one. You show me someone who struggles to accept that they can be loved for who they are, and I will ship them obsessively.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I plan on finishing MOST of my fics. Even the ones that have been on hiatus for over a year. The one that stands out to me is Masters of Destiny, my Dark One Belle fic. For one thing, the title makes me cringe. And for another, I had too many plans at once for the damn thing, some of which directly contradicted one another. So now the whole damn thing fizzled out.

16. What are your writing strengths?

No clue. I kinda flail at the keyboard and what happens, happens. Atmosphere, maybe?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I'm not a very visual person, so I just describe a detail or two of the setting and let readers take it from there.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I know for a fact that Google translate is unreliable, and I'm not fluent enough in any other language to attempt it myself. It certainly has its place, but I don't see myself doing it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sailor Moon. Cringey self-insert fic pairing myself with the creepy mopey white-haired anime boy villain. And I was Sailor Sun and I had my own team of Sailor Senshi and WE WERE ALL IN A ROCK BAND. Very cutting-edge stuff for a sixth grader. (First fanfic I ever conceived was before I could even read. I watched this anime Thumbellina movie and just obsessively thought, "what if Maia plummeted to her death and her frog and sugarplum fairy friend cried?" for like MONTHS)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I don't think I could choose just one. I love and cringe at all my fics in equal yet different ways. And all of them have parts of me in them.

I tag @peacehopeandrats @rogueimperator @astorytotellyourfriends @staceymcgillicuddy and anyone else who wants to play!

#fic writer asks

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doverstar · 2 years

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Hey there again! I'm the Say Anything (1989) Anon. I'm having a few thoughts which I'd be interested to hear your two cents on:

Chrissy and Eddie would not slot into each other's lives/interests easily. Chrissy especially is often shown getting into Eddie's pastimes and friendgroup too quickly (for me personally). The reverse (Eddie going around doing Chrissy things) is more rare, imo, because many fans relate more to Eddie, and there's very little canon about Chrissy's interests, goals, friends, etc. Both would be very supportive and willing to try things for each other, and would aquire their own tastes eventually, but there would be a lot of discomfort INITIALLY because they feel so alien to each other's worlds. So I think Eddie and Chrissy would keep any romance in a little two-person world for a bit, then open up to the wider opportunities and challenges of "opposites attract" (in quotes because they are not true opposites, both are sweet as can be).

(Content: references to subtances ahead) Yes, the forest scene happened because of a drug deal. However, I don't see getting stoned as an activity important to a HellCheer relationship.

I don't like it when some act like Steve and Eddie are interchangeable. Takes like "Eddie was created to keep Steve alive for another season" or "Steve should've died because that sacrifice would've been perfect and then we'd have more time with Eddie." They have distinct traits, relationships, and character arcs that cannot be replaced by the other. The one thing they have in common is looking after the younger ones and bonding with Dustin especially, and even THAT is approached very differently. I like both of these characters (Eddie is wonderful, Steve is my overall ST fave) and it diminishes the both of them to act like they could play the same role in the group.

Corroded Coffin probably wouldn't exist outside of Hawkins. It's fun to have them become really successful together, but unlikely. Each band member may have other goals/talents. Heck, we don't even know if pursuing music is EDDIE'S goal. If it is, he would be a session musician, join another band, or do the roadie thing maybe?

Cheers!

Hi again! 1. I agree! See here for my thoughts along this vein. 2. I agree with this, too. Chrissy is described more than once in a few different ways as someone who just would not do drugs recreationally. She wouldn't. Just because Eddie's her friend now or they're dating now (in an AU where both lived) does not mean she'd suddenly develop a taste for weed. I don't think she'd want to, I don't think it would appeal to her. And I don't think Eddie would try to make her into someone who does that with him. He does it, she doesn't mind, but they don't do it together. They don't need to to have fun or hang out. Ridiculous. 3. Yes! I don't think Eddie needed to die in S4. I think they could have found a way to show Hawkins he wasn't a murder in S5 and kept him on the run until then. I think his standing up to the bats and facing his fears by playing Master of Puppets and just generally returning to the Upside Down was quite enough of "not running away". His death was gruesome, unnecessary, and sort of cheap. Played up for tragedy, played up to evoke further sad reactions in the audience. Max was sad enough, even if she survived, albeit as a vegetable. We do not need to lose someone every season. A member of the Party did not have to die this season. They could've died in S5. And I doubt the writers sat and thought "Well, we know we're gonna 'kill' Max, but someone else needs to die. It can't be Steve, they love him too much. Let's make a new character and kill him instead, just so we reach the Realistic Death quota. Give Dustin some trauma. Good." No, I don't think that's why Eddie died. I think they wrote Eddie as a tragic character on purpose, planning to kill him off the whole time, because that sounds stronger emotionally, story-wise. And it had its big impact. The trouble was, the death did not make sense. So we're not only sad, we're furious. I'm trying to learn what to do and not to do when writing things, and the death of Eddie Munson is a big lesson, I feel. 4. I wrote some thoughts on this here, where I alluded to much the same thing! The only reason I assume that maybe Corroded Coffin would stay together outside of high school is because when Eddie is describing CC's gigs to Chrissy in canon, he jokes that The Hideout is "not exactly the Garden, but...gotta start somewhere" and while that might be referring to just his musical dreams, it's in the context of his own band. He's been with them since middle school (we don't know who's come and gone over the years in the band, but it's probably been much the same members for years) and they're actively trying to make a name for themselves by getting a standing gig at the same place every week. Maybe as they get older and each graduate, they would split up, that's realistic, but I think a handful of them would have a plan in place for really trying to make it big together. Otherwise, why are they spending so much time on the band? It doesn't seem like a fly-by-night thing for them, that's all I'm saying. I don't think they'd become super big later - I think Eddie clearly showed some real, serious talent. Able to play at least a little of Master of Puppets that soon after it was released, and that well? Come ON with it. So maybe Eddie would move on to brighter things, if the right people saw him play, and maybe he'd move on alone, but. Yeah, I dunno. Who knows what the future might've brought if the Duffers weren't lazy? They could write circles around me, what am I saying-

Thank you for sharing!

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bibiche007 · 6 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @jewelledfoxes ! I love these opportunities to chat

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I have 21! And I thought I'd stop after a few… That idea's dead now XD.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 161,997, but I'm only counting the half, since there are as many French as English.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Just Hellcheer <3 !

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Save yourself, I'll deal with the devil (POV Phillip Cunningham) She likes lemons (and now he does too) (Smut) I've never surfed, but I'll take the big wave (Anorexia and Therapy) There is only one letter difference between our two names. (POV Wayne Munson, slice of life) You are still here (rape/non-con, Jason Carver)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, every time! These interractions make me so happy! That's why I publish !

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I haven't published it yet! I'm thinking of calling it "Hogwart's phamtome".

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? "My bad habits" because it's all about cuteness.

8. Do you get hate on fics? no, and I'm grateful to this beautiful community for our kind interractions.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes, I plan to write some soon (including a Jason/Eddie/Chrissy).

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? No, there are no plans for the moment, but who knows?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, in French, by myself.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no, but Serenade for a Fairytale was inspired by a fanart and Let's change this logo immediately by a request at an event.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? I'd say Hellcheer, but I also really like Hermione x Sirius Black, Hermione x Severus Snape, oh and Katniss X Haymitch.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I don't usually publish unless I've already written the whole thing, but I'd say the next 3 chapters of Devour me and my soul if you're hungry.

16. What are your writing strengths? uh I have (sometimes) good ideas, quite original to write ?

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Lord, do we need an exhaustive list or a general idea? I'll mention the French spelling mistakes and the translation errors. I'm having trouble writing smut, finding the right balance between describing sensations and actions, with dialogue in between so as not to make it all declarative speech, without getting repetitive.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don't understand this question… But I will say that I like the idea of Chrissy and Eddie using French expressions after their trip to Paris, like "je t'adore" or "mon amour".

19. First fandom you wrote for? A long time ago, I wrote an original character x Sirius Black (of course, I was the character).

20. Favorite fic you've written? A parent can't choose which of their children is their favorite, I love them all! (but And the deer god blesses your way holds a special place in my heart because I think I'm the only person to have an AU Mononoké).

I try my luck with @justhere4thevibez and @a-strange-inkling, I'm very curious to read your answers to these questions (but no pressure).

#tag game

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foundtherightwords · 6 months

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Sunlight Through the Mist - Chapter 10 (last chapter)

Pairing: Hellcheer (Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham) Regency AU

Summary: Having witnessed the broken marriage of his parents, Edward Munson, Baron Hurstfield, always regards love with a cynical eye. When circumstances compel him to marry and produce an heir, he quickly proposes to Christine Conyngham, a debutante whose reputation is hanging by a threat after an ill-fated affair. All Edward wants is to save his family estate, but as beautiful, fragile Christine finds her way into his wary heart, their marriage of convenience may become something neither of them ever expects - a union of love.

Warnings: angst, past domestic violence, suicide attempt, smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 4k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Edward was up and dressed before it was fully light. The entire house was still asleep when Will carried the bags to the door, yawning all the way. Wheeler had gone ahead to the livery stable to bring the carriage around.

"To Dover, sir?" Wheeler asked, as Edward climbed in.

"Yes."

The driver and the footman exchanged a glance, but neither asked why they were stealing away in the wee hour of the morning like some thieves, without their mistress, or why they were going to Dover. There was something in the gloomy look on their young master's face that told them it was best to hold their tongues and simply do as they were told.

As the carriage passed by Covent Garden, Edward suddenly thought of Molly. He'd planned to visit her while he was in London, to make sure she had what she needed for the winter—always a difficult time for the women on the streets. Now that he was going away indefinitely, he felt he should say a proper goodbye.

After telling Wheeler and Will to warm themselves at a coffee house, Edward made his way to the King's Head. As expected, he found Molly there amongst her friends, indulging in some early—or late, depending on how one looked at it—imbibition.

"Eddie!" she exclaimed in delight upon seeing him. "Where have you been? I heard that you were married!"

"I was," he replied, then corrected himself, "I am." He was still married, wasn't he?

"Well, well, well, then what are you doing here so early in the morning then? Why aren't you keeping your missus's bed warm?"

Edward winced. He signaled for the barman to refill Molly's glass and to bring them some breakfast. "Whatever you have," he said, when the barman shot him a disbelieving look. Customers in establishments such as this rarely asked for food, but for all of Molly's cheerfulness, she looked like she could use some sustenance.

"Where's your friend?" he asked Molly. "The girl I saw, uh—" He was ashamed to realize he didn't remember her name.

"Anne? She went home. Her no-good da, the one who kicked her out, finally popped the clogs, so her mam sent for her to come home. Poor lamb was so happy." Molly looked wistful. "Lucky her."

Edward nodded. His own suffering felt less significant in the face of the hardships these women faced every day, and it gladdened his heart to know at least one of them had managed to find some happiness.

Later, over bread, cheese, and some bacon burned to a blackened crisp—The King's Head was not known for its cuisine—brought to them by the sullen barman, Edward found himself telling Molly everything, or almost everything, about his marriage, about Christine, and about Hauxwell's odious return. He hadn't meant to open his heart to her, but something in Molly's sympathetic eyes compelled him.

"So now you're running away?" she asked, once he had finished.

"Certainly not!" he said, outraged. "I'm leaving to let her make her own decision. I'm not going to fight another man for her."

Molly shook her head, exasperated. "You men and your pride," she scoffed. "Women are not allowed to choose. You should know that. Our whole life, we are told to do this and do that, don't speak, don't think. Do that long enough, and we no longer know our own mind or even that we have a mind to begin with. Or we may know it but no longer have a voice to speak for ourselves."

Edward stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that she wants you to fight for her?"

***

Molly's words were still ringing in Edward's ears when he left The King's Head. Was she right? Did Christine see his refusal to demand satisfaction from Hauxwell not as a sign of respect for her autonomy, but rather a sign of weakness, weakness of his character and of his love for her? Was that doubt justified? She had asked him to behave as a husband, and yet he had behaved like a child, throwing a tantrum and stomping off when he didn't get his way.

Then he came to a decision. He was leaving, but not before making sure that Hauxwell truly loved Christine and would see her right. At least then he could leave with a clear conscience.

He directed Wheeler to the Cravens' residence, an ostentatious pile of marble and gilt, in Mayfair. Edward opened his pocket watch. It was just after eight o'clock, far too early to be calling. Still, Hauxwell had robbed him of his sleep, as it were, so Edward considered rousing him out of bed early adequate retaliation. If it made him petty, so be it.

The door was opened by a servant, who gazed at Edward in bewilderment. Even after Edward gave him his card and asked to see His Grace the Duke, the servant still stood at the door, mouth agape. Apparently, a visitor at this time of day was so extraordinary that he didn't know what to do. Finally, he had to summon help from the butler, a fellow looking even more snobbish than Mrs. Conyngham's.

"I'm afraid his lordship is not up yet, sir," he said.

"Could you wake him up for me, please?" said Edward, placidly. "I'm sure he'll agree to see me."

The butler sniffed, then turned and marched up the stairs, leaving Edward at the door. Angry shouts followed by soft murmurings floated down from the second floor. It was some minutes before the butler returned and conducted Edward to the library. Moments later, Hauxwell stalked through the door, wearing a morning robe and an expression of extreme peevishness.

"This is highly improper, Hurstfield," he grumbled. "It'd better be a matter of great urgency."

"Oh, not quite," Edward replied with a nonchalant air purposefully designed to aggravate Hauxwell. "I merely have a question for you."

"Well? What is it?"

"Do you truly love Christine?"

Hauxwell's face went bright red. "I don't see what—"

"It's no use dissembling," Edward interrupted him. "I know of your conversation with her."

Hauxwell's mouth worked, but no sound came out. He seemed to be putting all his effort into staying calm. "If you wish to demand satisfaction," eventually he said, "why didn't you do so last night? Or are you too afraid?"

Edward sniggered at Hauxwell's pathetic attempt at bravado. "I'm not here to challenge you," he said, "but to make you an offer."

"What sort of an offer?"

"Divorce your wife." Hauxwell's eyes went round, but he said nothing. "I shall divorce Christine," Edward continued slowly, for even thinking the idea was painful to him, let alone voicing it, but he had made up his mind. "That way, you two can marry."

Hauxwell continued to stare at him for a long while, before bursting into derisive laughter.

"Oh, I've often heard that you are eccentric, Hurstfield, but I didn't know it was to such an extent!" he said, once the laughter subsided. "Is this your attempt at a jest?"

"If you truly loved Christine, you wouldn't compromise her with an affair," Edward said.

"And how is a divorce any less scandalous?" When Edward didn't answer and only looked at him pointedly, Hauxwell let out another bark of laughter. "This isn't eccentricity, but naïveté! Have you any idea how impossible a divorce is? Why, even the Prince Regent failed to get a divorce from the Princess when he brought charges against her in the House of Lords!"

Of course Edward knew this. And even if a divorce was possible, it would bring ruin to them all. He only wished to see if Hauxwell's love for Christine was true enough, and strong enough, for Hauxwell to consider it.

"You can go to Scotland, as Lord Paget and Lady Wellesley did," Edward said with a shrug, referring to a well-known scandal that rocked London a few years back. "They are happily married now." He didn't mention the duel that took place between Lord Paget and Lady Wellesley's brother, or the gossip and rumors that surrounded the couple and their extended families even now.

Upon realizing that Edward was serious, Hauxwell's face turned ugly. He leaned closer and said through gritted teeth, "Now look here, Hurstfield, if you're looking to blackmail me—"

"I'm not."

"—my wife is expecting and on bed rest. I would not have the life of my unborn child endangered because of you!"

Edward was stunned. He had come to Hauxwell with every intention of seeing the good in the man, of taking a step back and leaving Christine free to be with whomever she chose, but he didn't expect the depth of Hauxwell's depravity. Did Christine know? Or did she still think of Hauxwell as a hero, tragically separated from his one true love, willing to turn his back on society to be reunited with her?

"You should have thought of your wife and child before importuning my wife," Edward said coldly.

Hauxwell scoffed. "I've heard enough," he said, reaching for the bell rope to summon a servant. "I shall not stand to be lectured in my own house by a—a boor such as yourself!"

"And I have heard enough," Edward said, moving toward the door. "At least have the decency to tell Christine the truth about your intention."

"What did you hope to accomplish by coming here, Hurstfield?" Hauxwell called after him, determined to have the last word. "Do you think Christine would stay with you once she found out you threatened me? She's already made her choice!"

Edward's hands itched to hit Hauxwell, to wipe that smug look off of his face, but he told himself it would not do to get arrested for assault. He stalked out of the mansion without uttering another sound.

As the carriage rolled down the southbound road out of London, Edward's blood churned after the hateful interview with Hauxwell. He tried to distract himself by calculating the route. If they made haste, they could arrive in Dover that night. The list of boats, which Will had managed to procure after all, indicated there was going to be one headed for Calais early the next morning. But Edward couldn't fix his mind on the journey ahead. His thoughts, like the beam of a lighthouse, kept circling back to Christine.

One thing that Hauxwell had said stuck in Edward's mind. He'd claimed that Christine had already made her choice. But she hadn't. Unless she had secretly sent Hauxwell a message after the reception, it must have been another lie Hauxwell told to rattle Edward up.

And what about the Duchess's pregnancy? Christine had asked Hauxwell about his wife the previous night, but he had smoothly deflected her question. So it was very likely that she didn't know about the Duchess. She had been prepared to run to Hauxwell when she learned of his wedding, but would this be one step too far for her? Would this be the one line she would not cross?

As he mulled over these questions, it dawned on Edward that he was making the same mistake he always had with Christine—he was ascribing her thoughts and motives instead of simply talking to her. In the early days of their marriage, he had been afraid that his questions would be domineering and that he would come off as tyrannical as his father, and he had developed the terrible habit of trying to guess her mind. Even when relations between them improved, he never quite rid himself of that habit, for he was still afraid, afraid that he may not like what she had to say or vice versa, and that they would argue and upset the comfort they'd found with each other. But now, he realized that he felt much closer to her when they talked, even when they quarreled.

Along with this realization came another thought—if Christine truly didn't know how despicable Hauxwell really was, then Edward couldn't let her give herself to such a man. To Hell with leaving her free to choose and not forcing her. Edward had no doubt that Hauxwell would discard her as soon as he was bored with her or their affair became an inconvenience. Edward had saved her from that fate once before, and he would not let her suffer the same thing again.

Opening the carriage's window, Edward stuck his head out and called to the driver.

"Sir?" came Wheeler's reply.

"Turn around. We're going back to London."

Edward could feel the confusion coming from Wheeler as he exchanged a glance with Will, who was sitting next to him on the driver's seat, but to the man's credit, he didn't say anything, simply started turning the carriage around.

However, one of the horses refused to move. Wheeler jumped down to check on it, swore under his breath, and came up to the window. "Th' horse's thrown a shoe, sir," he said.

Edward let out an exasperated breath. He got out of the carriage and looked around. They were on a particularly lonely stretch of Blackheath, but he could just make out some chimney smoke in the distance. He pointed it out to Wheeler. "What do you reckon? Should one of us take a horse and ride there to get help?"

"Th' horse are not saddled, sir," Wheeler reminded him. "'sides, I hear plenty o' horrible stories about this place. They say footpads and highwaymen often lurk 'round here." Next to Wheeler, young Will went pale. No doubt the memory of getting shot by the highwayman eight months ago was still fresh in the boy's mind.

"They'd be foolish to attack in broad daylight, wouldn't they?" Edward said to put the boy at ease.

"Aye. Still, I'd feel a sight better if we were to stay here wi' th' carriage. You, Will, go back th' way we came and see if you can find th' shoe. I can wrap it up, after a fashion, 'til we get to a village wi' a smithy."

Will opened his mouth to protest, but Edward pulled a pistol out of the driver's box and handed it to him. "Here, to make you feel safer." The boy wavered for a moment, then he stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. Tucking the pistol into his coat pocket, he ambled down the road, carefully checking the grass banks on either side for the fallen shoe.

They watched until he disappeared around the bend, then Wheeler went back to the horses and checked all their hoofs. Left with nothing to do, Edward started pacing by the carriage, trying to keep his body moving so his mind would stay still. But even so, he couldn't stop himself from going over all the things he would say to Christine. What if she didn't believe him? What if she decided he made it up to smear Hauxwell's name? What if she simply didn't care? If she really was that callous, Edward decided, then she and Hauxwell were well-matched, and Edward would simply have to admit that he'd made a grave mistake in falling in love with her.

The sound of wheels approaching made him look up. Perhaps Will had not found the horseshoe, but at least he'd found help.

What Edward saw made his heart stop for a second.

It was Christine, wearing her customary blue bonnet and only a thin coat, driving a strange phaeton.

As the phaeton drew near, a dreamlike feeling washed over Edward, just like when he saw her after the mudslide—he couldn't tell if she was really there or merely a beautiful mirage conjured up by his mind. When the phaeton was a dozen yards away, she pulled on the reins, jumped down before the horse had stopped completely, and twisted her ankle. Edward's mind urged him to run over to help her, but his body remained frozen in place. Wheeler, who was standing closer, managed to catch her and set her on her feet, though her bonnet flew off, hanging down her back by its ribbons. She pulled it crookedly back on her head and pushed away some unruly locks of hair. The gesture was so familiar that the dreamlike illusion was shattered, replaced by a reality that was no less beautiful than the illusion, perhaps even more so, because it was real.

She came up to Edward, flushing, looking both guilty and happy at seeing him, and the ice that had settled into his heart the previous night started to thaw a little.

"What in God's name are you doing here?" he asked, when he finally found his voice again.

"I may ask you the same thing," she said breathlessly. "I thought you were going back to Hurstfield. Why are you going to Dover?"

She must have heard from the servants. "I should've thought the answer to that is obvious."

"No, not to me."

Her eyes as they looked up at him were so soft and imploring, a hint of tears in the corners making them all the more radiant, and Edward was ashamed of all his unkind thoughts about her. He understood that the fire he'd seen in her the previous night, the fire that came from Hauxwell, would only burn her out, leaving nothing but ashes and bones, but this, this warmth, this tenderness, could nurture and protect. Suddenly his flight to France seemed like the most enormous folly. Still, he answered truthfully, "I want to go somewhere that doesn't remind me of you."

Christine let out a tiny, almost inaudible "Oh", and her eyes brightened even more, along with a hint of a smile, half-loving, half-sarcastic, as though she was laughing at his dramatic reaction. "I'm sorry, but you can't escape me that easily," she said, stepping closer toward him. "You have to take me with you."

"Why?"

"We haven't had our wedding journey yet, and I've never been to France."

His throat constricted with hope, so tightly that he could only whisper, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She slipped her hand into his and used that as an anchor to pull herself into him, closing the gap between them. Her fingers were bare—she must have left London in such a hurry that she hadn't even thought to put on gloves—and freezing cold. "I've made my choice."

The last of the ice around Edward's heart cracked. He heard no more. Pressing his other hand to her face, he kissed her as he'd never kissed her before, not caring if Wheeler saw, not caring if another carriage may pass by at that moment. He kissed her until her hand warmed in his, until the ice around his heart melted completely away. It was only when she gasped for breath that he remembered to pull back a little, but still kept their foreheads pressed to each other.

"I have a confession," he said, once their breaths had returned somewhat to normal. "I'm not going to France."

"I've gathered as much. You were going back for me, weren't you?"

"I didn't trust that fool Hauxwell to deliver my message."

"Hush. Don't speak of him." She covered his mouth with her hand, which gave him an excellent opportunity to kiss her again.

"Why not? I'm not afraid of him," he said, kissing each and every one of her fingertips.

"You should've told me that last night."

"I've made such a dreadful hash of things, haven't I?"

She wrenched her hands out of his grasp to press them to his cheeks, caressing his dimples with her thumbs. "We both have," she said, smiling. "Never have greater fools breathed the breath of life. But we'll learn together." She stretched up for another kiss. Edward felt quite weak with relief and happiness, and he tightened his grip around Christine like she was a crutch or, indeed, a part of his own body, afraid he might crumple if he let go.

Wheeler, who had been waiting for them to calm down, now gave a polite cough to remind them of his presence, his eyes twinkling patiently. Edward turned to the old driver, saw him nod toward the phaeton with a questioning look, and remembered the matter at hand.

"Where did you get that?" he asked Christine.

Her mouth dropped open. "It was Hauxwell's. He came to my mother's house to tell me about you, and I—I just took it. I wasn't thinking straight."

Edward wanted to ask what the arrogant fool had said exactly, what had given her this sudden clarity and strength of will when she had been so afraid before, but he didn't want to remind her of Hauxwell. There would be plenty of time for that later. Besides, the thought of Christine stealing Hauxwell's phaeton and horse was too amusing. Edward laughed out loud and hugged her more tightly.

"I bet he loved that," he said.

"We'd better send it back, before he has me hanged for a horse thief."

"We can leave it in Blackheath for him to pick up."

Just as Edward was about to tell Wheeler to take the phaeton into the village and find help, Will came back with the horseshoe. While Edward watched them deal with the horse, the idea of crossing the English Channel on an unsteady little boat and traipsing through the Continent in the cold and snow no longer seemed so appealing to him.

"So do you still want to go to France?" he asked, turning to Christine. "Or do you want to go home?"

She smiled at him, understanding. "Home," she said.

***

In the end, because they had to go through London again to reach the Great North Road, they decided to leave the phaeton and horse at a livery stable in town and send a message to the doubtlessly irate owner to pick them up. They also sent Will to Mrs. Conyngham's house to get Christine's things. Will came back with Christine's traveling case, grinning, saying Mrs. Conyngham had alternated between shouting at him and wheedling him into telling her where Christine had gone, but when he said her ladyship was safe with his lordship, Mrs. Conyngham had clamped her mouth shut and not uttered another word.

They stopped at Peterborough as usual. This time, the landlord didn't have to ask how many rooms they required. He quickly had a waiter conduct them to the same chamber where they'd stayed just two days prior.

The moment the door closed behind them, the world disappeared and nothing else existed but the two of them, the bed, and the fire. There was much they wished to say to each other, much to apologize for and explain and set right, but all that could wait. For now, there were different ways for them to converse and connect with one another. No need for words.

There was, however, one thing Edward had to tell Christine, something he had been saying for months but only in secret, afraid of how she might react to it. Now, with her in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her hair falling across his chest, and her breath blowing warm and steady on his skin, his fear had vanished. He gently put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up so he could look her in the eye.

"I love you," he said.

She wasn't taken aback. She looked as though she had been expecting it, and with that look, he knew he hadn't made a mistake in falling in love with her. She understood. She'd always understood. Her eyes shone in the firelight, and with a glowing, knowing smile, she replied with the words he didn't realize he had hoped for, but was ecstatic to hear nonetheless:

"I love you too."

And that was enough.

THE END

And that concludes Edward's story! Thank you so much for reading. As for now, I'm going to let Edward and Christine enjoy their happily ever after, but I'm still keeping my options open for more Hurstfield Hall stories in the future. In the meantime, if you haven't read Christine's POV (the original "Love in a Mist") or the sequel, "Love in a Storm" (it has alternating POVs, so you won't miss Edward), please go ahead! And keep an eye out for more Hellcheer stories from me in the future!

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #eddissy #hellcheersource #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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