#deactivated authors I feel sad about
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Hello rosie!!! I was going through the tag strawbxxrymilk cause I missed the author and I saw you miss them too.
We can't talk to them but they have orphaned their fics on ao3. So we can still read them. The problem is I don't remember any name. But I adored their writing style. So just wanted to ask if you remember any of the names???
Thank you for the help. Hope you're doing well😊
🌷Hi, Ivy! I got confused a bit because I just checked their ao3 profile a week or two ago (I was in the mood to re-read Witches’ Brew 🔥 and the Blue Raspberry series) and they still have their profile up. But I also noticed them orphaning some of their old fics (like the Jimin Demon AU) because I just saw it in my bookmark lists as “orphaned”.
Their pseud is strawbxxymilk (without ‘r’’) and maybe this is why it’s hard to find their ao3.
These are the other fics I had in my bookmark that I could remember and these are the other orphaned ones:
OuroborHISS - Jungkook x Reader
two-shot [1/2] | 6.5k | College AU, Strangers to Lovers, Hybrid AU | fluff, smut
Jungkook slithers his way into your life even after you’re told to stay away from him
🌷since this has been orphaned, this won’t get completed.
Toke Temptation - Yoongi x Reader
one shot | 3k | College AU, Friends to Lovers, PWP | smut, fluff
You accidentally confess your feelings to Yoongi during a smoke sesh
Heart Eater - Jimin x Reader
series [5/?] | 8.2k+ | Demon AU, Demon Hunter AU, Enemies to Lovers | a, s
You're tasked with killing demon mercenary Park Jimin
🌷won’t get completed, so read only if you are okay with unfinished fics (like me I don’t mind. This is also the fic I saw in my bookmark that made me realized they orphaned their fics T_T)
Undrunk - Hoseok x Reader
one shot | 6.7k | College AU, Frat AU, FWB AU, sort of exes | s, f
After six months of avoiding your ex fuck buddy you see him at a frat party
🌷aww this is the fic with the line “I’m your big nerd” and I love 🥺💖
There are other drabbles I remember reading (rockstar!taehyung) but I can’t recall the fic title. I am sure there are others I missed adding and if anybody else remembers just type the fic title on ao3 and find the one tagged under “BTS” + orphan account.
.
#fichunting#shameless-army#strawbxxymilk#deactivated authors I feel sad about#bts x reader#jungkook smut#yoongi smut#jimin x reader#hoseok smut#namjoon x reader#🌷 chats
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Yeah I totally agree as to how writers are leaving. I agree. Why are they leaving you think?
me figuring out how much trouble i wanna get in tonight
lmaoooooooooo
okay, listen. i have thoughts. i have observations. and i’m going to share some of them with you.
in my experience, most writers have been leaving for one of these three reasons:
1. engagement (rather, the lack thereof)
yeah, yeah i know, writers post about this a lot but here’s why: it’s true. readers on this site, for whatever reason, don’t interact with fics as much as they used to. even some fics that get a lot of likes may only have one or two comments, maybe a couple of reblogs with no feedback.
for what it’s worth, i’ve always felt that for the size of my blog (and how flipping long it takes me to post something) i get wonderful reader feedback and engagement. but i see so many writers struggling out in these tumblr streets, posting really great work that gets very little feedback and it’s discouraging for them. i get it.
i will also be transparent and say that as a writer who biases a “less popular member” it kills me when amazing stories about him (and other “less popular members”) just fall flat.
one of the best hobi stories i ever read had 20 notes when i found it by accident. twenty. it had been posted for some time. in my mind, that was a crime—that story was an absolute masterpiece and it had 20 notes (!). i sent it to every person i knew short of my mama because i was offended that people hadn’t recognized its brilliance. sadly, that writer left tumblr and took her masterpiece with her which brings me to my next point:
2. drama and writer-on-writer crime
phew y’all, there’s just so much of it. i don’t know what it is about tumblr that makes some people lose their absolute minds but they sure damned do. i’ve been here for a minute and i have seen it all.
writers mounting anonymous hate campaigns against one another (this happens a lot). writers mounting anonymous hate campaigns against people they pretended were friends (this one happens a lot a lot). writers sending themselves a boatload of hate anons to get sympathy and attention on the dash (this one happens a lot a lot a lot).
popular writers going out of their way to befriend up-and-coming writers only to then turn around and start nasty whisper campaigns about them when the up-and-coming writer’s blogs and stories eclipse their own in popularity.
insecurity is a hell of a drug.
there are some writers who get on here and they’re cool and they stay cool and they enjoy success and guess what? they’re cool about it.
and then there are the writers who get a few thousand followers and a bunch of notes and delude themselves into thinking they’re real-life celebrities. to those writers i would say: pick the fanciest restaurant in your city, call to make a reservation on a friday night and if they don’t have a slot make sure you let them know you’re really big on tumblr. let me know how that works out for you, okay?
it sounds stupid and it is stupid but this happens on this site all the time. what makes me sad is that it drives people away. they take their personalities and stories and contributions to this insane little space we have here with them, which sucks. the author of that amazing hobi fic? deactivated her account over tumblr drama.
so if you have a blog here and you are so wrapped up in jealousy and insecurity that you feel the need to harass someone off the site (including “friends”), log off and seek help.
3. life (adulting, sigh)
this is the boring one, but it still tracks. this community blew up when covid hit and we all had a lot more time to muse about what kim namjoon would look like in his underwear. but so many people had to get back to the grind after a while, and that meant less time for tumblr and for writing in general (wait is this entire one about me oops)
when i started tumblr i wasn’t working full time. then covid hit. so i had a long stretch where i could dedicate a lot of time to writing and posting. and YES i was still slow, so go ahead and throw that tomato lmao but STILL. it really does impact the number of stories going up and some people who joined during the pandemic just don’t have the time to go back to this like they had before.
so yeah, that’s what i’ve personally seen and experienced on this site. the good news is that for every nasty, insecure writer on this site there are dozens of great people telling great stories. i’m going to stick around for them and i hope you do, too 💕
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This is my recommendations of WONWOO fics! It will be updated once in a while for new stories I have read. Hopefully the links work (lemme know if it doesnt)
Credits to the authors!! All informations written are taken from the authors' post and has not been modified. Reminder that some fics are NOT for minors, so please read the key and avoid 18+ contents.
HAPPY READING!!
KEY:
[❀]: fluff [𖤓]: angst [☄]: sad [☾]:smut [⟡]:smau [✮]: my favs
˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮------------WONWOO------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖
ONESHOT
19 signs you're unofficially dating by @honeyhypen (deactivated) [❀][✮][childhood bff2l] 3.2k
for as long as you could remember, wonwoo’s always been your best friend to the point where you both even live together now. over the years, when you were invited to certain events or public appearances were needed you and wonwoo always attended as each other’s date because it’s just “easier that way.” when your parents start talking to wonwoo about marriage, and wonwoo’s parents to you, it seems that everyone around you has assumed that you’ve been dating. while talking, you end up turning to wikihow and... all the signs point to yes?
13 ways to propose by @honeyhypen (deactivated) [❀] 4.1k
the one where wonwoo wants to propose but things don’t always go according to plan
Ten questions by @chocosvt [❀][𖤓][mobau] 4.3k
wonwoo isn’t at home as often as he used to be. you know he doesn’t exactly have a regular job, but you still can’t help this feeling of isolation. the less you see him, the more questions you have, which provokes one question above all - does he even have the time for you anymore?
X + Y = YOU AND I by @angelwonie [❀][𖤓][☾][rivalsau] 8.6k
you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect , because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.
SERIES
Bittersweet by @networkluvs [❀][𖤓][e2l][roommatesau][fakedating] 24 parts
in which y/n and wonwoo are forced to share an apartment in secret.
To my youth by @viastro [❀][𖤓] 36 parts
in a world where everyone finds out who loves them within a 10 meter radius through the app love alarm, confessing your feelings without the use of the app is no longer considered normal. however, you refuse to download it in hopes that you’ll be able to fall in love without being dependent on love alarm.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄more to come!⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
☆--------------------svt masterlist-------------------☆
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Fundamental Differing
Chapter XVI: You’ll Cry But You’ll Never Fall
nav | masterlist | playlist | pinboard | chapter XV | get on the taglist!
summary: The secret hometown Corroded Coffin / Death Dance Approximately show does not go as smoothly as any of you would like, and the memories of Hawkins infiltrate your memories again.
tags: ANGST (more than usual?), violence, swearing, excessive alcohol consumption, fighting/arguing, trauma talk, overall just a very sad chapter imo but i’m also very proud of it.
a/n: this is my lil honor to sinéad, my heart goes out to her family and i’m so very upset to hear of her passing. This chapter is also one of the heavier ones, please feel free to skip it or read it slowly if it feels like too much. thank you guys for your continued support as always. ALSO, im seeing a lot of blog name changes and deactivations, so please let me know if you aren’t getting notifications and want to! i’ll see to fixing the taglist for next time 🩷 Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!
—
October 1987
“Can I show you something?” Eddie stumbles into bed, his Warlock in his grip, a bowl of chips in the other hand.
“Of course, my love.” You pluck a chip from the bowl, shifting your body to face Eddie as he sits beside you. His fingers dance across the chords, and you sway as he begins to sing. When he finishes, you look at him in awe. “Is it done?”
He nods, eagerly. He’s been fighting with this song for almost a year, and you can tell he’s so proud of himself. It makes what you’re about to say that much more difficult. “May I?” You extend your hand, and he nods, handing you his guitar. You know the chords well enough by now to play it, and you start in with your eyes closed. “What if, instead of a major chord, you used a minor?” You play it again with your revision. “And what if, instead of Don’t let go, you could say don’t let go of me?” You sing the line for him, and watch as his face contorts, brows furrowing, lips pursed. You stop. “Or not, it’s beautiful regardless.” Suddenly, you’re embarrassed for even suggesting it.
“No, it’s not that. I’m just mad you made it so much better in two seconds.” He scoffs, and you can tell he’s upset.
“I didn’t mean to overstep, ali know this song has been kicking your ass, as just thought-“
“It’s fine, Y/n, really. Forget about it.” He takes his guitar from you, and leans it on his side table. Before you can say anything else, he’s turned the light off and pulled the covers up to his chin. no goodnight kiss, No I love yous exchanged.
-
Present Day
Eddie’s POV
He makes his way back to the dressing room, which is more of a closet behind the curtains of the small stage. He’s comfortably drunk, aching still with the words he’d overheard earlier as Sinéad O’Connor’s Drink Before The War floats through the speakers. You and Steve stand backstage, him adjusting your mike pack while you fiddle with your in-ear, the rest of your band tightening their instruments or twirling their drumsticks while you talk amongst yourselves. “Eddie!” You call, before he can open the door and slide by you, unnoticed. “C’mere a sec?”
Begrudgingly, he approaches you. You’re draped in a black skirt that sweeps the floor, and a black velvet tank top that shimmers when the light hits it. “Lilith had an idea, and I know this is so last minute, but what would you think about doing the song we wrote together? I know it’s probably too rusty for you, but I figure it could be a treat, for the little hometown show? It’s alright though, if you don’t wanna.” You shrug, but something in your eyes pleads with him.
“Sure, yeah.” He says coolly, confused by the question. Why would you want to, after what you’d said? “Where should we put it, in the set?”
“Was thinking, at the end of DDA’s, we have less time, but we have the room for it. D’you still know the chords?”
He fights off a humorless laugh. “‘Course I do. Just gimme the signal, and I’ll be right out. But we don’t have lyrics.” You nod, beaming, “Oh, but I do! I’ve been mulling them over, I hope that’s alright?”
The panic is palpable, he has no idea what he’s in for. “‘Course it is. See you out there.” He gives a curt nod before turning away, entering his dressing room without another word.
-
Your POV
“He’s being weird, right?” You turn to Steve, who’s just finished fluffing your hair out into the disheveled, rocker look you love.
“Of course he is, he’s Eddie. Now, get out there! They’re excited to have you back home.” He’s right, you can hear the restless crowd growing louder, more excited as your set time inches closer. “DDA! DDA!” The chant crescendos, and the house lights dim.
“Break a leg,” Steve plants a kiss on the crown of your head, and you wrap your arms around him. “and kick some ass.”
You turn to your band for the huddle, the pre show ritual, and let Sylvie lead the way to the stage. The crowd erupts as you take your marks, pressing out across a stage half the size of what you’ve grown used to this past month.
“HAWKINS, INDIANA!” You exclaim, drowned out by the audience as Lilith starts a drumroll. “We are Death Dance Approximately, from right down the street, are you ready to fucking PARTY?!” The response is a cacophony of screaming, just the way you like it.
“One, two, three, four,” Lilith taps her sticks together, and you jump into your first song. You open with Indiana, an ode to home, and you feel the weight float from your shoulders. The house is packed, and you recognize a face every few minutes, whether from school or just around town. Your friends are occupying a table on the side of the stage, and you can barely make out their faces. They dance and sing along though, and at some points you’re sure you hear Max’s whistle. It’s electric, rewarding to have people there for you, that know your songs, love your band. It reminds you why you started in the first place, despite the pain you’d endured on your way up.
-
“Thank you for coming out tonight, Hawkins! We have one more song for you before we introduce our friends in Corroded Coffin. This was a last minute decision, but before we play the song we know you’re all waiting for, could you please give a warm, freaky welcome to Coffin’s very own EDDIE MUNSON!” No amount of preparation prepares you for the screaming. The building must be shaking with the vibrations as Eddie saunters onto the stage, spotlight shining directly on him. His acoustic guitar is slung over his shoulder, and he wears a tattered DDA shirt and torn up black jeans, his converse laced tightly on his feet. He waves to the crowd, squinting into the bright stage lights. He wobbles slightly, and you know he’s drunk, but you have faith in his performance ability regardless.
“This song is one I wrote with Eddie years ago, and this is the first time we’re ever performing it. Please forgive us if it’s not so polished, but revel in the fact that you’re the first crowd that gets to hear it!” The audience responds with applause, and you glance at Eddie. His eyes are glued to the floor, not looking at you at all, so you turn back to Lilith who counts you off.
Eddie starts in with the opening melody, much softer than any song CC has put out, but still with the hard bite that persists within their catalog. You begin the ad libs, ones you love to play with live that can’t be recreated in the studio. The crowd sways with you, and glimmers from their lighters each the sky as you start the first verse.
“I’ve seen my share of gore and pain, enough to last my lifetime. / I wonder how you’re coping now that you’ve got that hurt inside. / I’d ask you how you’re doin’, but I know that you’d just lie, / and I’d bother you to open up, / if I thought it worth our time. / But you’ve been off drinkin’ down the hurt and pain we’d felt, / and I'm stuck circling the drain alone, keeling over as I melt.
Six years of shit, and dirt, and blood / caked under our fingernails, / and all I've got to show for it are these twisted, evil tales. / So all I ask is don’t let go, / don’t let go of me, / and all I want is for you to know / that you’re still the one for me.”
You don’t open your eyes the whole time, and you know you’re in for it when you do. You’re sure he’s caught on by now, the lyrics far from subtle, but still you can’t bring yourself to watch his reaction to them, instead focusing on your voice not breaking as he plucks the strings only three feet away. When the song ends, the crowd shrieks and it’s all you can hear. Eddie waves to the kids at the barricade, mouthing thank yous as they clap for him before approaching you. You entwine your fingers with his, swinging both your arms first into the air, then down to the floor as you both bow. He squeezes your hand before letting go, walking offstage without a word to the audience.
“Eddie Munson, everyone! I know you’re all very excited to see Corroded Coffin tonight, but we got one more song for ya, is that alright?” When the whooping fizzles out, Sylvie strums the opening to Pretty Boy, and it gets loud again. “This song is for, well, if you know you know. It’s called Pretty Boy!”
-
Eddie’s POV
He makes a beeline for the mini fridge, cracking open a beer before even saying a word to his bandmates. “You good?” Gareth raises an eyebrow, watching his bandmate down the bottle without a breath in between.
Eddie belches before snapping, “What makes you think I’m anything but perfectly fine?”
“Oh, just, everything.” He mumbles, but Eddie hears him anyway.
“What’s up with you, man? Aren’t you two on good terms now?” Jeff asks, plopping down on the arm of the sofa next to Eddie, who’s sprawled in the middle like an old rag doll.
“I have no idea. Thought we were, but I overheard them talking earlier and-“
Jeff interrupts, “Overheard? How much did you actually hear? Ever wonder if eavesdropping is maybe not the most reliable source of information?”
Eddie glares at his friend, who only rolls his eyes. “I know what I heard.”
“Whatever, man. We have a show to do, so get your shit together.” Jeff heaves himself off the couch again, and Gareth follows, clicking his drumsticks.
-
“Good evening, Hawkins! We are Corroded Coffin, and we’re here to fuck shut up!” Gareth shouts into his mic and is met with an eruption of screaming fans. Eddie feels the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream as he strums a chord, amping up the tension before the drummer counts them off. They break into the first song. His vision’s fuzzy, but he can still sense you, standing right up front, mouthing the words and nodding your head to the beat. He can’t let himself think too much about it, already distracted by your earlier conversation with your band. Because of him. You’re having nightmares again, unable to rest, because of him. The words play on a broken record, spinning out of control inside his brain, and he barely realizes he’s broken a string from strumming too hard.
When they end the song, a crew member cloaked in black rushes onstage to help him fix it while Eddie stands there, useless and shaking with a feeling he can’t place. Not exactly anger, nor anxiety, but a sinister lingering in his gut. The crew member leaves, Eddie’s string replaced, and Gareth waits for a cue to continue. “Apologies, my dear friends, for the technical difficulties. Thanks for coming out to see us on such short notice. This song is for anyone that’s ever felt like a freak in their own skin.” Eddie backs away from the mic as Jeff starts in on their next song, Eddie’s voice barely a part of him as he sings. His fingers are starting to bleed from playing so hard, something he hasn’t done since he started playing guitar more seriously.
Eddie fades in and out during the set, on autopilot, his usual lighthearted banter with the crowd now awkward and empty. He feels nothing when the lighters fly into the air during Wiped Clean, or even when he looks right at you when he sings Sweetheart. It feels like something in him has died, leaving a gaping wound. Being home was like ripping that wound right open.
-
Your POV
He’s looking right through me. There is absolutely no feeling behind Eddie’s performance tonight as he drags himself through the set. He’s usually bouncing off the walls, swinging his guitar around or sticking his tongue out while he shreds, but tonight he stands there, his head barely even nodding, let alone banging and thrashing like he usually does.
Around you, there’s a sense of panic. These people came for him, they know what he’s about, and this was likely the last thing they’d expected of a hometown show. Their dancing is tainted with confusion, worrying for the man on stage in front of you. You look to where your friends stand, cautiously swaying and nodding along to the music, glancing back to you every so often with a raised or furrowed brow. Dustin, though, meets your eyes and immediately starts pushing his way through the crowd.
“Move, please! Friend of the band coming through! Eddie Munson’s protege! Out of the way, holy shit!” He makes it to you relatively unfazed, and you grab his outstretched hand to pull him up to the barricade. “What the hell is going on?” Dustin shouts, and you shake your head.
“I have no idea, he’s been weird all day.”
“He drinking?”
“Dustin, he’s an adult!”
“That’s not what I mean! Is he, like, drinking drinking?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
He shoots you a baffled, disappointed look, and you get it. Loud and clear. This, whatever Eddie’s doing right now, is somehow related to you. “I am not responsible for his behavior!”
“No, of course not! But you might be able to explain it!”
You think, hard. You were fine this morning, waking up together, even being mistaken for reconciled lovers. “I really don’t know, Dustin!”
“Shit, okay. I’ll get back to you.” He turns around, about to disappear again, but you grab him. He meets your eyes, reading you in such a way that you probably won’t even have to ask him. But you do, for good measure.
“Make sure he’s okay, yeah?”
“Of course.” And you let him go. You turn back to the stage, where Eddie switches his beautiful electric guitar for his well worn acoustic. You feel a smile pull at your lips, knowing the acoustic rarely makes an appearance at regular Coffin shows.
“Hawkins, you’re so very special to me,” He starts, tuning his guitar as he slurs. Shit. “So I feel I should show you, just how special. We don’t usually do this, but because we’re home, I feel it’s only mandatory. I’m gonna play you guys a deep cut, one we never released and probably never will.” No. No fucking way. “Now, even the guys didn’t know I planned to do this, shit, even I didn’t til halfway through the set. That set sucked though, am I right? I mean, the guys were wonderful as always, but I was god awful, and for that I am truly sorry. It’s hard to put the energy into this town when it sucked the life out of me for so long. No offense, I do love that you’re all here.” Jeff and Gareth exchange looks of befuddlement. They have no idea what’s going on, but it’s starting to click in your head.
“This song is called Salt The Earth.” Your jaw drops to the floor. He’s never shown that song to anyone else, that you know of, because he hated it that much. It was a battle he’d been fighting since you’ve known him, one even you weren’t sure he’d win. But here it is, in the same town he’d written the song, giving it a live debut.
He plays to an almost silent, completely entranced room of people, staring straight ahead at the glowing exit signs, past you and all of his friends.
“Burnt the whole place down, demolished holy ground, packed your bags, didn’t look back, salted earth on your way out. / Fires bright, smoke in my eyes, I never even heard your goodbyes. / When you leave you’re supposed to salt the earth, you’re supposed to cut the rope. / But I'm still here, tied to this post, while you’re out somewhere laughing.”
There’s a bite, a sting behind your forehead, as the lyrics swim through your head. You haven’t heard the song in years, and it was barely passable as a song, but somehow, the lyrics are still there, stored in the depths of your memory, and only yours. As far as you can tell, scanning the faces of your friends and colleagues, you’re the only one that knows the words. Some of them have changed, he’s vastly developed as a songwriter in the last couple years, but it also gives you waves of nostalgia. To you, this song is an old friend, one constantly looping in the background of your life with Eddie. Selfishly, you wonder if your life with him, the ending of it especially, contributed to the song’s growth.
His voice is low, gravelly to match the somber tune. His eyes close as he further loses himself, wincing as he fingers the chords, breaking open fresh wounds on his fingers. Every so often, when you really let yourself watch Eddie perform, you’re hypnotized by his presence. You forget where you are, who you’re with, as everything falls away except for him, on display in front of you, for you, the only other person in the room.
The song comes to an end, Eddie practically playing himself out, still strumming as he leaves the stage. It takes a second, but the room eventually explodes with applause, chants of EDDIE! EDDIE! filling the club to its ceiling. After a good amount of teasing, the house lights dim again and the band take their spots once more, Eddie front and center with his Warlock strapped back in place.
“You didn’t think we were done yet, did ya, Hawkins?!” It’s as if he’s been struck with new life, rejuvenated after playing that song, defeating that looming enemy he’s had for so long. “We have one more song for you, and I know you know it. Thanks so much for comin’ out, tip your bartender!” They start in on The Crawl, the crowd going wild for one of their biggest songs. A pit opens in the middle, close to where you stand with your friends, and you feel at ease for the first time all night. Despite Eddie’s weird behavior, things have been going well. You desperately wish the other shoe would drop, but at the same time want for once for there not to be a second shoe. There’s always a second shoe.
-
Eddie’s POV
The tension still lingers in his shoulders, but he feels lighter. Salt The Earth had been a big, angry cloud threatening to rain down on him for years, and it’s like he’s finally watching the sky clear. Or, he would have been, if not for the much darker, much angrier cloud right behind it. This one holds what you’d said earlier, behind closed doors, and not for him to hear.
He stomps offstage, t shirt in one hand, guitar clutched in the other, avoiding eye contact with his friends and bandmates as he looks for solace: the bar. He’s already very, very drunk, and he knows it’s not smart, but it’s all he can think to do to drown his memory of earlier, and his shame about the way he’s reacting. What a Catch 22, to need to drink not to feel shame, and to feel shame for drinking.
“Hey, is he-?” Your voice floats into his ears, warm and concerned as you ask Steve where he is. “Never mind.” And suddenly, you’re next to him, leaning on the counter, not saying a word as he gulps down his whiskey. “Hey.”
He doesn’t look at you, barely even acknowledges your presence. He grunts, “Hmph.” in response.
“What’s going on?”
He won’t respond. He won’t open up to you again, he can tell it’s hurting you.
“Eddie, would you look at me, please?” He hears it, the slight crack, whether it’s from performing or from holding back tears he’s not sure, but it works in your favor.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” His words come out jumbled, slippery in his mouth against the liquor.
“There must be, if you’re drinking like this. What’s bothering you?” He chances a look at you, and wishes he hadn’t. You look up at him with concern, eyes darting back and forth between his, trying to read him, dig into him even deeper.
“Nothin’, just thirsty.” He won’t. He can’t tell you he heard you, it would only upset you, and it’s not fair that he’s heard you in the first place.
“Ed, you know you can tell me anything.”
“Ever think I don’t want to?” He snaps, and you jolt. He regrets it, it’s not your fault he feels this way, not on purpose, but he’s infuriated by your care for him.
“Okay,” you start, voice low, “you don’t have to. But I’m around, y’know, if you change your mind.” You almost place your hand on his shoulder, a gesture of consolation, but he leans away, and you tighten your lips to keep them from quivering. “See you later.” And you’re gone.
“Another round, barkeep.”
-
Your POV
“Well?” Steve meets you in front of the buses, overseeing the crew as they load the trailer. “How is he?”
You all but break down at the question. “I don’t know, I really don’t.” You don’t know why it hurts so much, he doesn’t owe you anything. “He won’t talk to me, but something is most definitely wrong. Whatever happened, I don’t have a single inkling of what it is.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Steve is gentle, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you let a single tear slide down your cheek.
“You’ve done so much for me already, this whole time. I can’t keep letting you fight my battles for me. I’ll figure this one out. On my own.” He nods, giving you a reassuring squeeze before letting you by, into the bus. You’re the first one in, the rest of your band enjoying their night with each other, and you’re in here sulking. “Fuck it.” You mumble, exiting the bus again. “Let’s go enjoy our night home, huh?” You wipe your face hurriedly, much to Steve’s confusion, but you don’t let him ask more questions. “C'mon! Let’s go dance and drink and be fuckin’ merry!”
He laughs, but it’s a nervous giggle. “Okay, okay! Don’t get all weird on me, though.”
“Please, Steve, you know I can’t promise that.”
-
The house music is blaring Soundgarden’s Jesus Christ Pose as lingering fans drink and dance, trying to catch glimpses of band members in the makeshift VIP sections. You catch your friends in the far corner, and they wave you over when they see you. “Thought you’d gone off with your boy!” Max teases as you sit next to her in the booth, and you try not to make your irritation known.
“He’s probably off somewhere, brooding.” Robin intercepts, a smirk on her face.
“That’s all he seems to do now. Any chance we’ll see him again before we leave?” Mike quips, and El giggles.
“And if we do? Chances are we’d say something to piss him off.” Lucas adds, slumping in his chair.
Dustin mumbles something only meant for you, but even you can’t hear him. “What was that?” When his eyes meet yours he looks away, and before you can ask again he’s sliding out of his seat, off into the darkness of the club. “What’s his deal?” You ask the group.
“Guess he’s not in the mood to rag on Eddie? Strange, he’s usually the one to start the rolling of the punches.” Lucas shrugs, and you sigh.
“Should I go apologize?”
Will shakes his head. “He’ll get over it, hang out with us!”
-
Eddie’s POV
“What the hell, man?” The voice next to him is unmistakable, even in his current state of intoxication. “Why are you hiding from everyone? We haven’t seen you in two years, more than that, and you’re avoiding us!” Dustin yanks the drink out of Eddie’s reach. “Fucking say something!”
Dustin’s anger startles him. “Whoa, big guy, hang on,”
“I have been hanging on, all week. You were fine, almost normal, and tonight you go on stage acting like a zombie, and you don’t come say hi to anyone after. I'm done waiting around for my friend to reappear. What is your damage?”
Eddie looks at Dustin, his sweet face and big eyes as he tries to keep his composure. “Look, man, it’s adult stuff, something you’re not gonna understand.”
“Would you drop that? I’m 20 years old, Eddie, as much as you don’t wanna admit it to yourself. Is it Y/n? Cmon, give me something to work with. Pretend we’re friends again.”
It takes a second, but Eddie catches the last part. “We are friends, Dustin, ‘course we are. I didn’t wanna burden you, or any of the guys with it. But I guess I owe you, y’know, for not giving up on me.”
Dustin crosses his arms. “Yeah, you do.”
“Alright, fine. Let’s go talk.” Eddie throws an arm around the boy, and they exit the club.
-
“What do you wanna know?” Eddie asks, a cigarette pressed between his lips.
“Everything. What happened with Y/n? Why’d you disappear? Why didn’t you call?” Eddie can tell Dustin’s trying to stay composed. He’s a strong kid, but this is even harder for him than the rest of the party. Eddie owes him an explanation, and they both know it.
“We broke up.” Eddie starts, and Dustin nods to keep him talking. “We broke up three years ago, and I hadn’t seen them in two.”
“At all?”
Eddie shakes his head. “I couldn’t, it was too hard. I left Hawkins after that, and couldn’t make myself come back. I couldn’t face you, the guys, or even Wayne, y’know? Everyone thinks…” He trails off. Everyone thinks it’s his fault. It is his fault.
“I don’t.” Dustin seems to read his mind. “Sure, you didn’t handle it correctly, you ran away from us. But it’s not your fault it happened.”
“Dude, I know you mean well, but it is. I let everything get to me. The fame, the break up, and you’re right, I did run away.”
“The fame would get to anyone, Eddie. And as for the break up, of course it would. I had never seen you like that before Y/n. You two were inseparable, infatuated with each other beyond belief, obviously you’re gonna hurt. But you had us, you could’ve talked to anyone, to me.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I should have.”
“Why’d they break up with you?”
Eddie gapes at him. “Why do you think they broke up with me?”
Dustin can’t help but snicker. “Sorry, dude, you’re not hiding it well. The avoidance, the brooding, the drinking. They’re hanging out inside with everyone right now, and you’ve been at the bar all night.” Eddie doesn’t say anything. He wants Dustin to keep talking, to be angry at him, he has every right to be. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something recent.” Eddie bows his head, kicks the gravel at his feet. “Something to do with Y/n?”
“They uh, they said something. To Steve, last night.”
“Oh, please, can you drop that? Steve and Y/n have never been anything but platonic, you know that.”
“No, nothing like that. They told him about a nightmare they had. Said it was my fault.”
“No.” Dustin says simply, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t. You sure that’s it? You heard them say that?”
“Well, no, but-“
“But nothing! You’re an idiot, Eddie.”
“Gee, thanks. I wasn’t already feeling horrible about myself or anything.”
Dustin groans. “You know eavesdropping gets you nowhere! For all you know, they were blaming you for a scuff on their boot.”
Eddie purses his lips. “I don’t really think that’s what it was.”
“It definitely wasn’t.” You stalk out of the shadows. “Dustin’s right, though, eavesdropping doesn’t get you anywhere. Well, except for when I do it.” You give him a sad smile, and he looks away. “Henderson, can I have a minute with our rockstar, please? The guys are on the other bus, if you wanna go raid the snack stash or something.”
Dustin nods, and turns back to Eddie. He wraps him in his arms, the first real hug he’s gotten since coming home. “Hear them out, okay? There’s an explanation for all of it.” Dustin pats Eddie on the back, then gives you a hug before disappearing into your bus.
Eddie can’t look at you, still basking in the post gig glow, cigarette dangling between your fingers. You walk closer, slowly as if not to scare him away. “I didn’t say anything like that.”
“Then what were you talking about?” He asks the ground.
“What did you hear?”
“‘All of this is because of him, as much as I hate admitting it. He’s the reason.’”
“Oh my god, you really are an idiot.”
“Right, I got that.”
“Eddie, I wasn’t talking about the nightmare. I told you, it happens when I come back here. It’s this place, feeding on whatever I’m already worried about. I was talking about my whole career. You’re the reason I’ve come this far, the reason I write what I do. I wasn’t blaming you for anything, I promise. Will you look at me, please?”
He does, finally. He looks into your pretty eyes, sparkling under the bright lights of the parking lot. Your cigarette hangs long forgotten in your hand, and you take another step towards him.
“You think you got here because of me?”
“I know I did. I couldn’t have done this without you, you have to know that. Deep in your soul, you know.”
He doesn’t, or at least he can’t admit it. What he does know is you don’t need him now. You’ve outgrown him, mastered your craft in such a way that doesn’t require his assistance anymore. And yet, you’re still there, waiting for him to come around, just like every other time. “I’m sorry. For this, for me. It wasn’t right of me to assume, to take something I only heard part of so personally.”
You shake your head. “No, it really wasn’t. Here I thought something real had happened. I thought I’d done something to hurt your feelings, with the way you’d been treating me. Avoiding me suddenly like I’d kicked your dog. Turns out, you’ll look for any small problem to excuse your behavior.” Your voice carrie’s a venom Eddie recognizes, each word stinging as it’s spit at him. “I’ll leave you alone. I get it. This is too hard for you, and I guess it’s not worth a fight.”
Before he can respond, you’re turning around, walking away again. “Wait! Please, wait.” He doesn’t mean for his voice to break, but he can’t help it. He can't watch you leave again.
You stop walking, but you don’t turn around. “What?” There’s no feeling in your voice, it’s cold.
“Are we okay?” He asks lamely.
You sigh. “We’re whatever you want, Eddie. Just like every other time.”
He’s dumbfounded as you walk away. You leave him there, alone, just like you’d found him six years ago.
-
Your POV
You can’t let yourself be proud. You know, deeply and surely, that you’d done nothing wrong. So why does it feel like you have? You’re in no mood to see your friends anymore, but it’s your last night in Hawkins before tour resumes, and you’re once again stuck with Eddie and his stupid face.
When you decide to make a beeline to the bar, you’re halted, colliding with a figure lurking behind the building. “Whoa, hey, sorry,” He stutters as you say, “You’re not supposed to be back here,” when he moves into the light. He’s older than you remember, more lines carved into the skin around his eyes and mouth, hair more white than gray, but it’s him. “Wayne, oh god, hi!” You squeak, and it takes him a second to recognize you.
“Y/n, wow. How are you, kiddo?” He cracks a smile, and your heart warms. He doesn’t hate you, even after everything.
“Oh, you know, same old.” He scoffs at your pathetic response, and you laugh too.
“Right, same old, touring the world and all.”
“Totally, just another day in paradise! Did you see the show?”
He nods, suddenly somber. “That’s why I’m back here. I don’t expect you’ve seen my boy?”
You frown at the question. “He hasn’t said hi?” Wayne shakes his head. “Yeah, he was just outside the bus, the big black one down there,” you point to where you’d come from. “Should still be there.”
“Thanks, love. How’s he, uh…” He trails off, realizing his question probably won’t have the best answer.
You give him one anyway. “He’s not good, Wayne. I don’t think he’s been good for awhile.”
He shakes his head sadly. “Haven’t heard from him in months, and after seeing that I had to find him.” His voice trembles, his fists clenching and flexing with each syllable. It scares you.
“Is this normal behavior with him?” You ask the question gently, trying to hide your nerves, and settle his.
“We talk once a week. Thought I’d give him some space when,” He pauses, meeting your eyes for the first time. They’re glassy, and it breaks your heart to see him so defeated. “I don’t know what you know. It’s not my business to tell, I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I’ll walk you over to him.” Forgetting your dramatic goodbye, you pivot to face the buses, down the road from where you’d bumped into Eddie’s uncle.
“How’s tour been, by the way?” He begins, turning his head to look at you again. “You guys are making something great. Both of you,” He nods his head in the general direction before them.
“It’s definitely been chaotic. We've never done anything this big, and to do it under these circumstances is,” You falter.
“A punch in the face?” He offers helpfully.
And you laugh. Despite it all, you belly laugh at the man’s words, and it feels good to talk to someone outside of everything. Selfishly, you hope Eddie isn’t there, maybe you could hang out with Wayne. Maybe get your questions answered, or at least some inside scoop on why Marie’s diner is now called The Wrench.
“Yeah, a huge punch in the fucking face.”
You make it to the bus, still not running and therefore not leaving this shit town any time soon. You knock three times quickly, three times slowly, and three times quickly again. The bus shakes, and the door flies open. You’re met with the silhouette of Eddie in his underwear, travel sized toothbrush shoved in his cheek, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “What the- Are you okay?!” Your last conversation forgotten, panic written on his face, Eddie switches the front light on. “Wayne?”
“Hey, boy.” Wayne’s voice is weathered, a calming wave over this terrible tension, a welcome distraction.
“Didn’t think you’d have heard about this.”
“You think I’m not cool enough? You shoulda seen me in college, son.” And Eddie laughs, for the first time all day, and you can’t help giggling too.
“I’ll leave you guys alone, it was so nice seeing you, Wayne.”
“You too, kid. Keep it up.”
You nod, holding out your hand for him to shake. Wayne swats it away, pulling you into a hug you return with fervor. “Thank you for everything.” You whisper, and you can feel him shake his head, but he doesn’t respond. He has no idea what he’s done for you in raising Eddie, letting you crash at the trailer on bad nights, and promising not to say anything when he’d caught you singing in the kitchen that one time he’d come home early. He’d treated you, and all of your friends, like his own. He’s your family.
-
You end up playing Bullshit with everyone on the ride back to Nancy’s.
“5” Dustin slaps a card down.
“BULLSHIT!” It’s unanimous.
It’s a five
“FUCK!” Cards are thrown, birds are flipped, and there’s a pink tint to it all. You’d give it all up for this moment, but you know it’s not forever. The kids will go back to school, they’ll graduate, they’ll do something important. You’ll go back on tour, bumping into Eddie in different cities, different countries, until you inevitably kill yourself with drugs or pyrotechnics, or sell out stadiums until you’re fifty, like The Rolling Stones.
“Alright, kiddos, we’ve arrived.” Steve shoves himself from the bench to open the door. Both buses are parked down the street from Nancy’s, halfway to Dustin’s to make the trek home easier for them. “See you soon.” Steve squeezes Dustin first, then the rest of his children one by one. Eddie peers cautiously out of the crack in his own bus door, and you catch his eye. You have a million questions for him, and not a single one you’ll be able to ask any time soon.
“Ed, at least come say goodbye.” Steve says it with humor, a lightness you couldn’t manage if you’d tried.
It does the trick, as it always does, and Eddie emerges from his shelter. He makes his rounds, saying goodbye to the kids, then turns to Steve to say something. You can’t make it out, but Steve responds with a nod, and brings Eddie into his chest for a hug. “Alright, we’ll pick you up in the morning, you gonna be ready to go?”
“I don’t need Mother Steve over my shoulder to make sure I’m ready to leave. Wayne will do it for you.” He pats Steve on the shoulder. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?” You join your friends in waving goodbye, despite the lingering heaviness in your chest. You’re worried about him, despite how many times you’ve told yourself he’s not your responsibility.
Eddie gets back into his bus, and it drives away, leaving the rest of you at the fork in the road. The kids take the left to Dustin’s, and you follow your friends and bandmates back to the Wheelers’. “I didn’t know Wayne still lived in Hawkins,” You start, hooking your arm through Steve’s. “I figured he would’ve left as soon as he could.”
Steve nods. “Guess it’s more difficult than that. But Eddie bought him a real nice plot of land on the far edge of town, and Wayne built the house.” Of course, Eddie bought Wayne a massive plot of land, that doesn’t surprise you at all. “What’s your deal? You haven’t visited the parents yet, everything okay?”
You shake your head. “They moved back to Boston after I graduated, they had no reason to stay, Dad quit his job because he missed the city so much. But they told me they’re coming to the show out there, so that’s keeping me going. It’s weird, being here now. Beyond you guys and the kids, this isn’t my home anymore.” You remember the day they told you they were leaving, and asked if you had wanted to come. By then, you and Eddie had already planned to move in together, but right now you were between jobs and Eddie had only just gotten signed. You’d moved into the trailer instead.
Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder. “You always have a home here, y’know. You can take the rockstar out of Hawkins, but you can’t take Hawkins out of the rockstar. Prime example just drove away.”
Your group reaches the front door, and you say your goodnights before dragging your tired body into the guest bed. Tonight, you sleep alone.
-
You’re back in the dark, this time going seemingly unnoticed as you watch the figures in front of you. You recognize Eddie instantly, even with his strange posture and soulless eyes. In front of him, the taller, lanky figure stalks around, surrounding Eddie with its massive arms and veiny body.
“You have succeeded in your mission, Eddie. You have eliminated the one thing holding you back. Whatever you do now, you do it without them.” The one supposed to be Eddie, he doesn’t say anything. He watches the figure as it moves, unfazed by the words it seems only to be thinking. The voice is disembodied, swimming through your ears, or living inside your mind, you’re not sure.
Before you can react, though, the limbs stretch, tangling themselves around to Eddie’s body. You can't move, can’t speak, only watch as the branches of its arms tighten around him, lifting him into the air before swiftly snapping his spine. The body falls to the ground with a thud, and you can’t scream, can’t cry, you can only watch the body of the boy you love bleed out in front of you, as it would have years ago if you hadn’t gotten there in time.
-
You’re woken up by Nancy barging through the guestroom door, panic on her face. “Hey, whoa, hey,” she hushes you, rubbing your back as you continue hyperventilating. “Another nightmare? Here, here’s some water.” She hands you the glass and you gulp, stopping only to gasp for air. “You wanna talk about it?”
You do, but you can’t bring yourself to start. The first thing out of your mouth is, “Where does Wayne live?”
“Wayne? Y/n, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, where does Wayne live?!” You try not to snap, but this anxiety inside you is not letting up. Nancy tells you the address and you barely register it, but you bolt out the bedroom door and down the stairs, slipping on a pair of abandoned sandals before throwing the front door open.
“It’s far, hold on a second, let me drive you.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” To your left, Mike’s bicycle lay against the side of the house, and you yank it towards you. “I’ll take his wrath for this, but I need to go now. I know you’re gonna try talking me out of it.” You throw your leg over the bike, amazed that it’s now too big for you considering you’d met Mike when he was several inches shorter than you.
“Okay, please be safe. Give me a call in the morning.” Nancy wraps her arms around you, and you lean your head on her shoulder. When she lets you go, you pedal away, only vaguely certain of the direction you’re going.
-
It takes you forty five minutes, but you find Wayne’s house. Out front, Eddie’s old, beaten box of a van sits on cinder blocks, and it makes your heart hurt. You shove that feeling aside like you do the bike, tossing it onto Wayne's front yard before sprinting to the door. It dawns on you, you have no idea what you’ll say, regardless of who opens the door, if anyone does. The light inside is on, and you think you hear music playing, so you say a quick prayer that you’re not disturbing anyone’s much needed rest.
You bang on the door before you can talk yourself out of it, and you don’t stop until it’s answered. When it swings back, Eddie basks in the glow of the porch light, draped in a torn tank top and plaid boxers, rubbing his eyes. “Y/n?”
You have to physically stop yourself from charging at him, throwing your arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. “God, I’m so sorry, did I wake you guys up?”
“No, you’re fine. I was just about to go to bed. You uh, wanna come in?” You nod sheepishly, and he moves to let you by, clicking the lock shut behind you. “Are you okay?”
You take in the living room before you, much bigger than the trailer you’re used to picturing Wayne in, but still very cozy. His mug collection is still on the wall, as well as pictures of him and Eddie, the Hellfire Club, and even a picture of you and Eddie from your senior year. It makes you smile to see you’re still part of the family. in Wayne’s eyes at least.
“Uh, well,”
“Right, stupid question. ‘Nother nightmare?”
You can't help it, you break. The tears fall from your face before you can make them stop, and your breath seems to leave your body. The sobs that erupt from your throat are strangled, broken noises, and you rush your hands to your eyes to cover them. You feel Eddie before you see him again, embracing you without a second thought, rubbing your back soothingly as he lets you cry. “We don’t have to talk about it. It was just a dream, you’re safe. I promise.”
You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his chest to suffocate the remainder of your sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Eddie. I couldn’t think of anything else, I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. I woke Nancy up and I still couldn’t tell her. It was so dark, I was so scared you were,” You pull your face away to look at him. He’s tired, you can tell, soft eyes carrying bags of sleep beneath them that he’s more than ready to put down, but he’s here with you instead. “I can go. I know you probably don’t want me here, just give me a second. I just had to make sure you were okay.”
Eddie shakes his head, holding you still. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. It’s way too dark, and I don’t have a vehicle to bring you back. I didn’t come here to get away from you. I just wanted to be somewhere quieter for tonight. That’s all.” He pulls you back into him, seemingly more for himself than for you. “You’re alright. Let’s go upstairs. I’ll give you the tour tomorrow.”
Eddie holds his hand out, and instead you hook yourself around his arm like a child reunited with your parent, holding on for dear life so as not to get lost again. Eddie leads you up the stairs, and down the hall to what you can only assume is the guestroom. When he opens the door, though, it’s far too lived in. Eddie has clothes in the closet, shoes on the ground, and records on the shelf in the corner. “I keep a lot of my stuff here. Wayne won’t let me take it to LA, thinks it gives me a reason to visit more.”
“Does it?” You sniffle, finally relaxing.
He shrugs. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” He looks you up and down, taking in the clothes you’d ridden here in. “You need something to sleep in.” He turns to his dresser, pulling out an Iron Maiden shirt and another pair of boxer shorts. “It’s not much but,” He holds them out for you, and you take them gratefully. “I can uh,” You’re already changing before he can finish, and you don’t care one bit that he didn’t even bother turning around.
“Thank you.” It’s a whisper, full of shame. You didn’t want to disturb him, to interrupt his time away from everyone. You’d been selfish, biking your way here just to see him.
“You don’t have to thank me. Or be sorry, for that matter. Never.” He pulls the covers back and climbs into the big bed.
“I can sleep on the couch, I know you probably want to be alone.” Even though you don’t, you can’t be right now. You would, though, for him.
“Absolutely not. Get in. Please.” It’s not a question, but you nod, and climb into the bed beside him. Before you can move, Eddie drags you into him, his arms closing around your waist, head burying into your shoulder. Instantly, you’re calm. Eddie washes over you, and you’re overwhelmed by his warmth, his smell, his soft breath on your neck. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe. You repeat it to yourself until you’re dozing off, and Eddie’s breath evens out. You fall asleep with him wrapped around you, and you don’t have another dream.
-
chapter XVII
taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @lilpotatobean2-deactivated20230 @poisonedluv @kellsck
#st#stranger things#strangerthingscentral#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#fluff#angst#enemies to lovers#estranged lovers#mutual pining#miscommunications#misunderstanding#90s au#au where eddie lives#best friend!steve#fd#new kid fic#stranger things fan fiction#chapter fic
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what i read this month - oct. '23
❀ = nsfw/mature content, minors dni
reminder to read the warnings before a fic & to support writers & reblog :)
organized alphabetically by fandom, then by pairing, then by author
harry potter
— ron weasley —
the yule ball - @marvelslut16
type: oneshot, genre: angst, fluff
summary: you wanted ron to ask to the yule ball but you get asked by someone else. jealous!ron ensues.
commentary: the perfect mixture of jealousy and playfulness and love confession and cuteness all in one 😍
marvel
— peter parker —
peter p. blurb - @webslingingslasher
type: blurb, genre: hurt comfort
summary: peter helps you grieve the loss of a loved one
commentary: so sad yet so sweet 😭
peter p. blurb - @webslingingslasher
type: blurb, genre: fluff
summary: you find out peter's hair is curly
commentary: this was so cute like i need to read more of your stuff because i LOVED the two things i read this month
stranger things
— eddie munson —
no more tears - @aphrogeneias
type: oneshot, halloween, genre: fluff, hurt comfort
summary: it’s halloween night, 1986. you want to celebrate your favorite holiday after the year you and your friends just had, but after being dumped by your, now ex, boyfriend a week before puts a damp on your plans. eddie munson, however, has a different plan for you
commentary: i loved the dynamic between eddie and the reader in this one sooo much! and the payback andrew got was 🤌🏼
eddie m. blurb - @eiightysixbaby
type: blurb, friends to lovers, genre: fluff
summary: play wrestling with eddie turns into more
commentary: absolutely so frickin adorable 🤍
❀ what about you sweetheart? are you scared? - @lilacletter
type: oneshot, halloween, genre: fluff, smut
summary: when your plans fall through with the younger kids, steve gets a brilliant idea. that you and the rest of the gang should go explore the old creel house. reluctantly, you all agree, having nothing better to do. eddie is quick to sneak away with you once you’re there, determined to find out how scared you really are.
commentary: story - 10/10, smut - 10/10, and the ending is hilarious! if you love soft sweet eddie but also hot sexy eddie, this is the fic for you (update: op, unfortunately, deactivated so i can't link it, but believe me when i say this was a phenomenal fic)
i wanna be more part 1 & part 2 - @maxxxineminxxx
type: twoshot, genre: fluff, angst
summary: y/n tells eddie she wants to join the cheer squad he has a bad reaction at first but then he calms down. y/n thinks everything is fine until she sees her replacement standing at eddies locker. they look close? & y/n attends the party she was unsure about going to, only to find out that eddie's there as well with his "girl?'' eddie is still ignoring y/n and she is determined to find out why.
commentary: my heart was broken but then it was mended with part two ❤️🩹 love love love this!!!
— jonathan byers —
hurtless - @stveharringtn
type: also steve harrington x reader, oneshot, cheating (of the emotional variety, not physical), genre: angst, hurt comfort
summary: after having an argument with jonathan about how he depends on nancy far more than he does on you, steve finds you once he's heard about your fight
commentary: hurt my heart for the reader but it was so good
— steve harrington —
steve h. oneshot - @katsu28
type: oneshot, genre: fluff, angst
summary: based on these prompts: "you called me your friend." "was i not supposed to say that?" "you really think i'm just your friend? after these last few weeks?"
commentary: so well written and so easy to feel what the reader was going through and connect with her! 100000000/10 <3
steve h. oneshot - @lovebugism
type: oneshot, genre: fluff, hurt comfort
summary: steve comforts you after a no good, really bad day
commentary: steve is a sweetie pie and is the best protector/comforter in the world
steve h. blurb - @luveline
type: blurb, genre: fluff
summary: you're used to doing all the chores and things since that's how it has been for you in past relationships. however, you come home to steve doing some of those chores and freak out about it
commentary: another one for sweetie pie stevie 🥺🥰
hurtless - @stveharringtn
type: also jonathan byers x reader, oneshot, cheating (of the emotional variety, not physical), genre: angst, hurt comfort
summary: after having an argument with jonathan about how he depends on nancy far more than he does on you, steve finds you once he's heard about your fight
commentary: hurt my heart for the reader but it was so good
nail to the coffin - @thetargaryenbride
type: series, byers!reader au, genre: fluff, angst
summary: y/n byers wondered what would end up being the death of the small town she lived in. she never expected that the last nail on the coffin would be hammered by monsters from another dimension who would end up hunting down her friends and family one by one…
commentary: i finished season one, two, three, and i think i've got a couple chapters left in season four and i absolutely LOVE THIS!! the way the storyline is altered is so good and still fits the stranger things vibe
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hey, do you read fic at all? i was wondering if you had any recs, i feel like i don't see you interact with fic a lot on here! i love your stories, so wondered what are your favorite authors too :]
Hello! The short answer to this is yes, but it comes with the caveat that I haven’t read much lately, primarily because I have no time but also because now that my characters are getting more and more fleshed out with every fic, reading other fanfic feels like my members are cheating on their OCs 😕 (I read this really good Namjoon fic where he met the reader at a party, and spent a whole week imagining Namjoon cheating on Kaya with that Y/N and it kind of killed me)
Having said that, I still do read fics when I can, definitely those that don’t interfere in my head with my OCs. I’m joining collabs and book clubs as much as I can so that I read more; but in the meantime I’d love to recommend some of my favourite fics and authors to you and any other readers:
(Please read the warnings on each fic before proceeding)
1. Poetry of the Stars by @jjiimin: This is the best fic I have read my entire life (barring one legendary series in the HP fandom - iykyk) and I honestly have nothing else to say about it. Riley has unfortunately deactivated her Tumblr account but I’m so glad I got to tell her how incredible her story was before she did so, so this is my number one. It’s 25K+ words iirc and was one of the first fics I read in the fandom and I just read it all in one go because I couldn’t stop.
(Also a favourite is Irresistible by the same author but I unfortunately don’t have a link to it)
2. @sahmfanficbts: There’s no fic mentioned here because I recommend Sam’s entire masterlist. She’s one of my all time favourite authors in the fandom and I have read and will read every single BTS fic she ever posts. Every fic is so immersive and every character is so deeply developed that they just stay with me and I find myself thinking about them at random times. Just beautiful, fantastic writing.
3. The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series by @kpopfanfictrash: Funny, quippy dialogue is my absolute favourite thing and this series has some of the best combination of humour and heart. Shanna’s works are pretty popular so you may have already checked this one out but I’m gonna recommend it anyway. (I remember coming on anon to gush about it because I was shy af, but I absolutely loved it, Shanna :))
4. Four Seven Eight by @jiminrings: This is the one I’ve read most recently and I’ve had it in my drafts since then so that I don’t forget to write a review because it deserves a great one. So here’s my apology to Hannah for taking so long to do it 🤓 but this is an amazing series, full of angst and hope and has my recommendation for sure.
5. For The Crown by @chimknj: I don’t read mxm fics, particularly mxm smut, but there was no way on earth I was going to pass on this one. Gina and I share an obsession with A Song of Ice and Fire (and I mean OBSESSION - we talk about it 24x7) and the premise of this fic was so compelling and so exciting to discuss that the only thing better than that was actually reading it. The way Gina has written this - I was transported to Westeros instantly. Everything is subtle and nuanced and I found myself connecting with every single character (also Kingsguard!Namjoon was not something I knew I needed). Idk if she’s planning on writing future parts but if she is… fuck, I’m so excited I can’t even talk about it.
6. A Silent Heart Still Beats by @akinnie75: This is another fic I have in my drafts because its review deserves my entire attention. It deals with some difficult topics but is so sad yet hopeful. The OC is such a beautiful character inside and out and this doesn’t usually happen to me with fics, but she actually changed my life and taught me how to rise above, be compassionate and forgive. I won’t give away anymore but this is just a gorgeous, gorgeous fic.
7. Just Practice by @lamourche: I can’t BELIEVE I’ve finally found this fic again!!! I read it once and then lost it (now I realise it’s because the author has seemingly removed their masterlist) but I’d commented on it from my main blog. It is one of my favourite fics of all time: it reads like a college indie movie or like a Sally Rooney novel. I was crying at the end but I couldn’t even put my finger on what it was which just meant that it was the entire vibe of the story rather than a specific scene. It breaks my heart that I’ll never get to read this again but the author has all my appreciation and gratitude for writing it.
These are some recs off the top of my head that have stayed with me and I’ll probably add to this if I think of more. A huge thank you to all these authors for their wonderful work - and thanks to you too, anon, for the question. It felt great to go back to old fics and give a shout out to such talented writers <3
#and thank you for liking my fics too 😌#notes🍷#jjiimin#kpopfanfictrash#sahmfanficbts#chimknj#akinnie75#jiminrings#lamourche#fic recs
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Title: You May as Well Fire at the Moon
Summary: Post “First Shot’s A Winner.” The fact that the skitterbots hadn’t worked on the creature concerned Lt. Little.
Warnings: Blanky's amputation is non-graphically described, and Edward has suicidal thoughts (but does not act on them) towards the end.
500 words.
Lieutenant Little watched the ship’s boy walking around the deck picking up the deactivated skitterbots. The BN-NX-82 rifles [1] the Marines had used fired a swarm of nanobots that, upon contact with a living target, would skitter around devouring it and use the biomass to self-replicate. They were also dangerous to anyone who touched the poor sod being eaten, hence the use of inorganic medics [2] in situations where skitterbots may be present. Depending on their programming, they would devour each other or deactivate from lack of fuel when the target was gone. He had watched several shots hit the creature’s haunches and seen the skitterbots deploy, and the start of the swarm. But the altered magnetic field that surrounded the beast [3] had disabled them before it could be meaningfully injured. The ship, on the other hand, had been injured.
The creature—the Tuunbaq, he reminded himself—had ripped open part of Terror’s hull like tissue paper causing the compartment to depressurize. Mr. Honey had only just struggled into his enviro suit and begun patching up the hole, sparks flying, and Hickey was redoing the sealing on the hatch he had broken earlier. In Little’s memory the sound of rending metal merged with Blanky’s pained screaming. Over the comms. when the leg of his suit had been breached and Blanky’s leg was sacrificed to the stars, and again in Medbay when MacDonald had cut the remains off. Little imagined what the doctors were currently doing: snipping, pruning, sealing, doing whatever reconstruction they could now that the replication technologies onboard were starting to fail. And now, Crozier’s pistol was burning a hole in his coat pocket.
Back in the solitude of Edward’s cramped cabin he pulled the pistol out and turned it over in his hands. Examined its construction. Toyed with the safety. Pointed it at the small shaving mirror, making eye contact with the darkness of the bore. Crozier’s pistol wasn’t an NX model, meaning it didn’t fire skitterbots and therefore would not grant him the complete disintegration he wanted and secretly thought he deserved.
Edward thought about the Navy firing two ships of men out into unknown reaches of space and wondered if they were no better than the skitterbots—programmable, mass produced, devouring everything in their path before dropping dead. Edward hoped this sad little expedition would drop dead before they started eating each other.
Well Captain, Little bitterly thought, putting the pistol into a drawer. All our clocks are running out. But I have a duty to the men, so I will prolong my time as much as possible.
Author's Notes:
Thank you for reading a scientific writer's first attempt at creative writing in about a decade! While this was fun to write I struggled a bit, so I may or may not just post a list of ideas of how things work or events might happen in this little AU. Regardless, please feel free to talk to me about it!
The title is a quote from British Army Col. George Hanger about the accuracy of the ‘Brown Bess’ sea rifle (1814).
[1] British Navy NanoExtruder mk. 82. [4]
[2] Stanley and Goodsir are the inorganic medics on this expedition.
[3] In this AU I picture the Tuunbaq to be the simulacrum of a neutron star’s soul. Not exactly sentient, but able to be directed to an extent. It can manifest in a typically physical sense, but the men perceive it to be surrounded by radiation and strong magnetic and gravitational fields that royally fuck up their equipment. Signal interference.
[4] Lead is the 82nd element ;)
#krakenposting#the terror#theterrorscififest2023#Edward Little#I don't have an AO3 account so this is going to live here#This is 500 words of Nedward thoughts; a little bit of worldbuilding; and blunt cannibalism metaphors.
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Do you ever feel sad when moots deactivate their acce/ disappear? Do you ever miss them or their stories
i do!—though i wouldn't necessarily say it's sadness that i'm feeling... more like, a bittersweet melancholy-ish emotion?
it's changed that i've become more of a writer than my previous years though, as now i really understand the urge/reasons for leaving cites + accounts, but still recognize each as a loss for all reasons (author and reader).
luckily, due to the format of tumblr (in terms of shorter things, at least), i'm a little less sad about the disappearance of specific works... however there's a few writers from my past (some not even fanfiction related) whose work i mourn OFTEN.
it really just depends on who or what has left, you know? thank you for asking, and wbu?!
#it's normal to mourn things that bring you pleasure#even if its selfish#but there's also joy in knowing the people you love are doing what's best for them however they can#double edged sword--esp since (i forget what i was going to say)#im honestly more hurt by ppl who block me when idk what ive done#hahaha#my cat had a dingleberry when i got home and he still smells like poopy now#caitie answers#anon
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So I’ve been trying to find a jungkook fanfic for a while, childhood friends/ brother’s best friend AU, where OC is a 2 years younger than him and tries courting him many times but at the end she gives up after being friendzoned too many times and ghosts him, the OC graduates college, gets a boyfriend, starts talking to him again, finds out Jungkook works as a teacher and Jungkook moves to the same city as her meets her boyfriend and finally catches feelings for OC.
Extra info I remember: 1. Jungkook worked as a lifeguard for his first ever job in high school. 2. Jungkook and OC became friends when they were younger and OC scraped her leg on a bike ride when jungkook stayed behind and helped her.
🌷Hi there! This is Growing Pains by diortae but they have removed all their fics on tumblr. You can still check their tumblr profile where they transferred their stories.
.
#fichunting#Growing Pains#diortae#jungkook x reader#jungkook brother's best friend au#🌷 chats#junkookssidehoe#deactivated authors I feel sad about#but also they are on ao3 and been releasing some fics for you to enjoy =)
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Im also invested in the ari arranged marriage 😂 idk why i love angst so much even though it hurts my soul. Got any angst fics recommendation?
same!!! idk why but i LOVE angst!! i get why not many people write angst bc fanfic is meant to be escapism and why write something sad when you can write something sexy? but idk… i feel like I’m addicted to angst… both reading it and writing it. i don’t have any recs tho, I never have time to read and fully invest in a fic these days. there was one Steve Rogers fic that I read so long ago, before I even had made this blog. It was by sweetlyscared and it was sooo angsty and the ending fucked me up. It was about him keeping her in his basement bc he thinks she did something but actually she didn’t do it and just UGH IT WAS SO GOOD. it’s been taken down now and the lovely author deactivated their tumblr but yeah. Also that summary I just gave was SO bad and doesn’t do the fic justice but just trust me it was so good and I feel lucky I got to read it
#i like it when my soul feels hurt after I read something#i think it’s bc since I was very young I’ve read a lot of sad fucked up books#like my fav book ever is flowers in the attic and that’s says… a lot lmao#anyways short answer no I don’t have any recs 😭#anon
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I have been wanting to write fics but am scared to even go about it because of how toxic the fandom can be. I love writing and I love these characters but I don’t want to get hate because I wrote Frankie or Din differently then how the fandom views them. I get so sad seeing all these amazing blog deactivating because of the hate. It’s so sad. Some of my favorite authors aren’t active at all anymore and it breaks my heart. I reblog and comment on everything I read because I appreciate everyone’s hard work. You all deserve it so much for the gifs, art, and fics your post. It’s so horrible people want to gatekeep and send hate to people. It’s ridiculous.
It is ridiculous. But I also don’t want you to not put your work out there. It deserves to be seen and appreciated.
Who gives a shit if your version of Din or Frankie is different from everyone else’s? No one should complain as long as you aren’t running around saying ‘this is the ONLY version’. This fandom has taken characters and shaped them into what they wanted or needed - why should you be any different?
Just turn off anon. Or if you want to keep it on, don’t post the crap the haters send in. They crave the attention but are too chickenshit to expose themselves. There are people who are just miserable and want to make others feel bad so they can feel a bit better about their pathetic lives.
Write your works, post them. Fuck the haters
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Do you miss the time when you, Shelly, and others were running the comic tumblrs? It seems like so many of you are deactivating (PLEASE DO NOT GO!! Or, if you ever choose to, please stay open like your other tumblrs!)🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😩😩😩😞😞😞😞😞
I do get nostalgic about those days sometimes! I miss being that passionate about something so huge, having a near-endless supply of content to devour, writing metas and doing research and including CITATIONS!!!, discussing things with friends and followers like headcanons and different portrayals, having a community of people who were all "experts" in a particular character/family to goof around with, getting excited asks from people who cared about my take on things, etc. It was also nice to be jokingly referred to as an authority on anything, let alone my beloved son Jason. Honestly, the DC fandom was a great outlet for my autism LMAO.
I think I've forgotten how to make friends in fandoms nowadays. I join all the Discords and try to chat with people but can never connect with anyone. I was just getting all mopey earlier because I have this massive fanfic that I've poured my heart and soul into, and while a lot of people are reading it, none of them are people that I talk to regularly. I miss being able to ask for feedback and opinions from people that I trusted like I could in the comics fandom. In comparison, being in the Stranger Things fandom feels like I'm screaming into the void. I don't know if it's easier to make friends based on meta vs. fanfics or if I'm just doing it Wrong, but...it's rather lonely and alienating. I think I'll be done with actively participating in fandom after I finish this fic, which is sad, but the lack of community just kills my passion.
I'm no longer in touch with anyone from that group (simply because I literally don't read comics anymore aside from WFA LOL though I do still follow some of them I think??). I didn't know that any of them had deactivated and I'm not sure why that happened. I hope it was just because they lost interest and not because anything bad happened!
In any case--while I don't see myself ever posting on @comic-commentary again, I have very fond memories of that experience, I still stand by most of my metas, and I have no intentions of deactivating/deleting that blog (unless tumblr strikes me down, which would be beyond my control lol). I'm also not leaving tumblr until it dies probably.
And hey, for nostalgia's sake, I poked around in my old icon reaction folder for that blog!
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thanks ashley! i’m the og anon who mentioned the lack of inclusion in reader insert fics. i’m a reader and writer too. so the frustration is real. when i first started writing fics i never described the members with pink nipples, but in scenes where i wrote smut i used to describe their more intimate areas that way too. i thought that was normal. it was what everyone else was writing. but when i realized the error I stopped immediately.
i’ll just make it a point to write the change i want to see in this (dwindling?)community and constantly keep myself in check bc i see a lot, and i mean a lot of poc who still do all of these things. thanks for sharing the list of poc writers and your podcast. i’ll check them out.
was ego your first fic on tumblr? that fic is a staple in this community like fr. it was one of my firsts and thank god for that.
you're welcome 💜💜 and yes, write the change you want to see!!!! representation is so, so important and makes others feel more comfortable telling their stories too. and to answer your question, no, ego wasn't my first tumblr fic--it was my first one for bts, tho!
i do wonder if the community is actually dwindling, or if people are simply no longer using this site the way it was intended to be used, because i've noticed a definite change for the worse in interaction, and i've heard the same from other writers. i've been on this site for an embarrassingly long time, and the culture here has truly taken a turn for the worse. when i first started writing for the fandom, people understood that tumblr was meant for reblogging and interacting, but now people treat it like twitter or tiktok and maybe, at most, will like a post. which is really, really sad for content creators who spend hours/days/months of their lives writing something for nothing more than the love of creating and the joy of sharing with people who have similar interests. fandoms simply do not survive if people only consume and do not bother to give--we've seen authors on this site leave/deactivate time and time again because what's the point? if we're just putting our blood sweat and tears into something with the intention of invoking conversation with people who take the time to read, but only get silence or a like in return--literally, what's the point?
i've recently been followed by so many blank blogs (who i can tell aren't bots, but are also obviously not bothering to give back to the community in any way either), and i've barely been getting interaction, even though it's clear people are consuming my content. it's disheartening, and though i'm not ready to give this place up yet (because i still have so many stories i'd like to exist in the world), i'd be lying if i haven't thought about moving on and not wasting my time 🤷🏽♀️
in any case, i hope you continue to write if that brings you joy, and never be afraid to create what you want to see!
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PSA TIME ABOUT FEEDBACK FOR CREATIVE COMMUNITIES!!
(feel free to reblog)
honestly in context with jas’s post. I want y’all to know I see all of you who simply like my fics and nothing more (as jas called them serial likers/silent readers) and I think enough ppl already tell you how likes don’t do jack shit so I won’t reiterate it. I just want you all to know that I personally check my notifications all the time, like literally I look and see you guys simply liking and that’s great that you “liked” it but pls talk to me or any cc in general (fic writers, gif makers, artists, etc.) about our stuff, you do it with literally any other topic be it anime, video games, etc. that’s what fandom is supposed to be right? a place where people can communicate and share their love for a certain thing? (that’s what it is supposed to be hopefully) we are not robots putting out content for your leisure, we are people just like you and like you we would like feedback on our work. feedback does not have to equal “xxx was good but xxx could be better” every single time it can be “HAKSHDKSJ THIS XXX WAS AAAAAA” and people would still be happy. this whole situation doesn’t have to be “oh well that’s just how it works so I’m doing what everyone else is doing” that kind of mob mentality is dangerous and as we’ve seen, very fatal to creative communities. anon feature is there for the people who don’t want their url seen, if for some reason you’re shy, embarrassed or for those people who don’t want others knowing they read fic(?). whatever your reason is, just click the anon button it’s easy, just one click/tap. now will this single post make a difference? who knows. I’m just chipping in some commentary on a growing issue. why do you think so many writers and ccs make nets, one of the main reasons is to get members’ content out there for the world to see, and the other reason is that we wanna support each other when our audience won’t, when people are so silent it feels dead and quiet on our blogs when we aren’t doing things. that’s me, since I haven’t put out a new fic the most interaction on my blog rn is through my concert videos, it’s very rare I get asks or interaction with my fics after they’ve been out for a while and I’m so thankful when I do. at the end of the day, I know I’ve been so disappointed and sad to find authors I liked deactivating (for any reason not just lack of interaction) and one of the main reasons is that either they take lack of interaction personally, or they find they’ve lost the motivation to keep up with a hobby they used to enjoy and that’s heartbreaking. it’s not like those people are asking for much they just wanna know what your fave part about a story is? you do that all the time with published books and series right? so let me ask you this: why is a fic any different? they both have words on a page. one thing you may not realize is that once that author you liked is gone it’s very rare that they may come back, for all you know they could simply keep their writing to themselves or share with friends but you’ll miss out. you’re not gonna find another one like them even if you think “meh one author leaving is fine there are plenty of others” trust me you’re not gonna find another like them they’re special and one of a kind. me included. you won’t find another like me. (maybe you think that sounds conceited but it’s true) so be kind to fic authors and just ccs in general bc if they leave you will miss them; subconsciously or outright.
#rant.txt#i suppose it fits this category haha#tho I’m not sharing these feelings from an angry or upset place just been thinking is all#pretty long post but it was worth it uwu#but yeah anyways give love to ccs and fic authors#once that author you like leaves you really won’t find one like them#bc every writer is unique and no one can replicate another#bc every writer and cc*#simple as that
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one of the blogs i've been following here on tumblr since the beginning was @darlingheichou but i just saw today that she deactivated her account. i hope she's ok, but it reminds me to appreciate the other authors here. so thank you for all your hard work and for putting it out for us all to read for FREE. you and all the other beautiful people who write and share their work truly help my get thru the day by allowing me to find comfort and escape in writing. 🖤🖤🖤 you are loved and valued
Hey there Anon,
Omg … first of all, I’m so sad to hear Sage isn’t around anymore? I’m honestly terrible at being social on here these days, so I wasn’t aware but I’m sending her best wishes 💖
Secondly, what a really lovely message to wake up to. I can’t tell you how much this means to hear - even when life is busy and it’s hard to write, just reading something like this is honestly such a positive push to make time to get those updates out. It feels so … I’ve just been thinking about the right word here for like 5 minutes (😂 WAKE UP WRITER BRAIN) but I think the best way of describing it is like being connected and sharing a big hug, to know that our silly little stories we spin in our heads can touch and bring comfort and joy to other people. For a while now I’ve thought I’ve struggled with continuing to write because I’m scared of living up to the expectations of other people - like how do I possibly follow chapters and stories that people have enjoyed so much with something bigger and better!? But what you have said to me anon has really honestly just cemented a wondering I’ve had recently: it’s my own expectations I’m scared of falling short of. This is such a beautiful reminder to just write and hopefully there are people out there who will find joy in it. To know there are people out there who appreciate the time we spend torturing ourselves over just the right way to structure that line that’s supposed to be hard-hitting, or the dialogue that is supposed to sound perfectly in-character, or the description of the room that’s meant to take you there, is so worth a thousand hugs and head pats 😆
So thank you, thank you, and thank you again anon, from the bottom of my heart, for the perfect start to my day and for making me as a writer & a person feel so loved and appreciated 🥹 It’s funny, supposedly a writer’s words hold the power, but I think that’s kinda the wrong way around. To hear words like this from a reader is more powerful than anything I could ever put down on the page 💖
#L is gushing this morning#this is so lovely#I can’t stop smiling#where’s my word doc#*cracks knuckles*#let’s chat
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On hiding stories and plagiarism
Good morning, everyone. As you have been aware if you're in the EM community, there has been some plagiarism trouble and entitled hate going around for days. My support is, of course, with all the affected writers and friends who have seen their story translated without their consent and afterwards they've had to manage the hate they were receiving.
This has triggered something in me, too. Because I have been plagiarized in the past (multiple times). If you want to read the whole things, it's up in an author's note in Rotten Judgement.
I am not down for this to happen again, and so I am taking my little actions:
- I have only two social media: Tumblr (onwriting-hrarby.tumblr.com) and AO3. I do not have a handle on any other site or writing site. If you ever see my stories up there, it is not me, and most probably I haven't been contacted to translate or share (which I don't have a problem doing, if I'm credited accordingly).
- A lot of you are reading "Rotten Judgement" because you came across "Instead, they said" before. You may or not have noticed, but "Instead, they said" has been hidden for months, now (after what happened in May, actually). The same thing will happen with "Rotten Judgement": after I finish the story, I'll leave it for a month, and then hide it. I never know whether I have bigger plans for the future with this, and I've learnt the hard way. I will still keep my shorter fics (more to come!) and "I did not live until today", which I plan to edit soon, if you want a longer story.
- From November onwards, "Rotten Judgement" will only be accessible to registered users. I am terribly sorry for this because I was an unregistered user for a year. I need to tell you, though, that having an account on AO3 is one of the best things I did: I can subscribe to authors I like and get notified! I can subscribe to stories! I can interact with others! Consider having an account. I know maybe the plagiarists are, in fact, registeredusers. But any control I can have on my stories is good for times like this. I am sorry.
- I thank you all for the support I have here. I cannot say it enough, and I will not repeat it enough: this has been the safe place for me to write and share things with you (as you can see, I deactivated my Twitter), and the comments that you leave me in here, the kudos, all the beautiful, beautiful words you say to me are most motivating and amazing.
(Having said all that, I guess I shouldn't be afraid of getting plagiarized: first, because I do not feel entitled whatsoever or really think that what I write is so good to be plagiarized, but even if I thought about it, this story is damn long, and kudos to you if you have the patience to go over it to translate it or to put it up anywhere else! Damn! I should even be flattered. But I am not: this has triggered my sadness and disappointment from before, and I do not wish to happen it again. I am not as famous as the writers who were plagiarized (incredible writers, I need to say; some of them, incredible friends, too), and I do not think my prose has it for it to happen, but better safe than sorry.)
If you don't have an AO3 handle but you want to get updated, read RJ and ITS, please do not hesitate to contact me through Tumblr chat or inbox, and I'll see a way I can make it work.
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