#revisit* our works

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

Very cool and not heartbreaking at all for the PJO show to emphasize that Percy is an outsider not only because he's new to the whole demigod thing, but also because he doesn't know the rules of being a traumatized kid with all the daddy/mommy issues possible

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

Juliette, the Girlboss Trope, and Structural Change

From what I’ve observed, stories with “girlboss” protagonists tend to be less likely to critique existing power structures and end up focusing more on slightly tweaking surface level aspects of them to allow the protagonist to prove themselves within the context of the existing system. To me, this is extremely interesting within the context of These Violent Delights because Juliette is arguably initially set up to fulfill this archetype. Because she is a girl, her claim to the status of heir is questioned by those around her more than it would be otherwise. She feels more pressure to be ruthless and to do whatever she can to earn the respect of those around her. Toward the very beginning of These Violent Delights, she threatens to kill Tyler when he attempts to upstage her, saying that she will kill him before she lets him take her heirdom away from her. Without knowing that These Violent Delights is a Romeo and Juliet retelling, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect Juliette to become the leader of the Scarlet Gang and somehow fix things from the inside at the end. She is well set up to be the Strong Female Protagonist ™ who takes what is owed to her and is hardened and kickass and ruthless and doesn’t let interfering men get in her way. 

But importantly, regardless of how much Juliette initially knows it, this is a facade. The image of the hardened ruthless heir may be one that Juliette encourages, but it is a heavily distorted reflection of who she truly is. Because at her very core, though she was raised to be the heir of the Scarlet Gang and therefore should be the literal personification of the continuation of the blood feud, that is not who Juliette is. Throughout the duology, her main motivation is protecting those she loves. At first, she believes that she can do this by working within the existing system. She tries to legitimize herself as heir within the existing power structure of the Scarlet Gang. However, the Scarlet Gang Juliette is set to inherit is one built upon a foundation of fractures that legitimizes its existence through the perpetuation of the blood feud to the extent that to solve the blood feud, or even seek to calm it, would be a violation of its very nature. The Scarlet Gang could never accept a leader that sought to do this, nor could the White Flowers, who equally rely on the blood feud as a source of power, accept the figurehead of their rival gang as an ally. To do so would be a fundamental betrayal of the nature of these two groups. Thus, Juliette must choose between legitimizing her position as heir, bringing more suffering upon the people and city she loves in the process, and giving up her position as heir and forfeiting her power. 

But if Juliette forfeits her power, who does she forfeit her power to? After all, if she merely walks away, the blood feud will still exist. The refusal of one person to fall in line cannot topple an entire system. The answer comes back to Tyler who, unlike Juliette, truly is meant to represent the continuation of the blood feud. He feels the need for vengeance and hatred at his core, and is constantly suspicious of Juliette, recognizing her lack of loyalty though it is incomprehensible to him. Ultimately, there was never room enough for both of them. When Juliette threatened his life in These Violent Delights, she did so out of fear of him usurping her place. Little did she know, he already had. In representing the longevity of the blood feud, Tyler, not Juliette represents the longevity of the Scarlet Gang. While she was the heir in name, he embodied the very lifeforce of the gang. In a way, he almost represents the Juliette that could have been. And that is precisely why Juliette had to kill him.

Though Tyler’s death is foreshadowed by Juliette’s initial threat in the first book, when she shoots him in Our Violent Ends, it is not the callous, unfeeling kill of an heir pushing aside the final obstacle before claiming their rightful place at the top. Instead, it is Juliette’s final severance from the vicious cycle of the blood feud and the illusion of her status as heir. She recognizes that the power she would wield as the future leader, or even the true heir, of the Scarlet Gang stakes its legitimacy in the continuation of the blood feud, and therefore, she would lose legitimacy as a leader if she were to act against the blood feud. This is further demonstrated when Lord Cai tells her that she can choose between dying a White Flower and being heir following his discovery of her relationship with Roma, representing her direct defiance of the blood feud, and her murder of Tyler, representing her sabotage of the longevity of the blood feud and her rejection of her status as heir.

By this point, Juliette has established that she cannot live as a part of the blood feud. She put a bullet through its heart, firing on her own kin to do so. Because the blood feud has no future, she can no longer pretend to occupy the role of heir. But at the same time, in killing Tyler, she has rejected her place within the blood feud. She cannot die a Scarlet, and she cannot die a White Flower because she refuses to be either. In the end, it is not her and Roma’s apparent deaths that aid the end of the blood feud. Instead, it is their rejection of its perpetuation through their rejection of their statuses as heirs. Their continued survival after their apparent death and the birth of their daughter stands in direct defiance to the division brought on by the blood feud. Though, as is further explored in Foul Lady Fortune, this division is still very present, Roma and Juliette’s continued survival both acknowledges that the kind of change required cannot be brought about by the efforts of one titular protagonist, no matter how world ending their sacrifice, and gives hope for a better future. Unlike the girlboss protagonist, Juliette rejects the status quo and achieves her goals by rejecting power. Instead of seeking to be the figurehead of change, which would also be extremely ahistorical, she does her part and steps back, acknowledging that as a singular person, she does not and should not have the power to fix everything. In the end, she watches from the outskirts of Shanghai, and though she is doomed to forfeit her place within her home to protect the people she loves, she is safe enough to live with her husband and raise her daughter and use her remaining connections to do what she can. Because in the end, one person cannot fix everything, no matter how powerful they are. And the spark of hope represented by Juliette and Roma’s continued survival and the birth of their daughter as well as the protection offered by their weapons ring is enough. 

[hood-ex]

Going through all the magic related tags on AO3 and finding nothing about Witch!Dick running a metaphysical shop.

[x22817]

Hekate in her Bean Formation at our 8am cardiologist appointment (making me hella jealous)

[homonationalist]

Once the veneer of fantasy is stripped off, the setting terrestrialized, and the orcs recognized as human, then, all the classic themes of Western racist thought become immediately visible. Tolkien’s aesthetic judgment on Mongols and orcs simply repeats Meiners’ aesthetic classification of races, and the even earlier medieval hierarchy: “The figure prized in medieval romances corresponded to Greek statuary, physiognomy was important, and a ‘skin of dazzling whiteness’ exemplified true beauty. Such beauty symbolized goodness, while blackness, small stature, and an ill-proportioned body meant ugliness and evil.” Similarly, twentieth-century German racists would contrast Aryans and dark “ape-men.” Blacks themselves, of course, had traditionally been seen in racist thought as close to apes, and possibly even prone to couplings with orangutans. In keeping with the foregoing, Tolkien describes an orc as “a short crook-legged creature, very broad and with long arms that hung almost to the ground” (TT, 62), while at the siege of Helm’s Deep, we are told, the orcs “sprang up [the ladders] like apes in the dark forests of the South” (TT, 178). The pure-blooded orcs’ fear of the sun also has its precedent in one German anthropologist’s contrast of a diurnal Aryan and a nocturnal non-Aryan race.

Charles W. Mills from “The Wretched of Middle‐Earth: An Orkish Manifesto” (2022)

[shadowednavi]

lying awake at 3:46AM thinking about my old webcomic and realizing it's technically become Lost Media with the death of flash. all that time we spent on it, now impossible to read without special programs, assuming it's still on the internet at all.

I still have all the art assets I personally made for it, but damn... several years of collective work just Gone.

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Please, Be Gentle with My Breaks - II

Chapter 17/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 7,561

Summary: There's a difference between being broken and having a few breaks. But a lot of these kids and been dealt a lot of blows, and not just from physical monsters of the Upside Down. There's still a lot of stuff hidden just under the surface that they haven't been able to show just yet.

More ST Fics

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The next morning, everyone in Hellfire had stopped by the hospital for a visit.

It was a very busy room that Thursday. And the nurses warned the whole slew of them to take it easy on him. Eddie might’ve been on the mend, but he was supposed to destress and let his body take care of itself while it began to cover over wounds with scabs to one day become scars.

That’d been an idea to wrap his head around.

Scars. Big ones.

Not just little lines of them from scrapes or spots from embers or other sorts of accidents. But real, big scars. The kind that showed a war had ravaged his body, or something like one. Which was the easiest way to imagine what he’s been through anyway. So, big scars were in store for him. Acted less like something small to point out and tell the story of; and more like a bold accessory - more similar to his own tattoos, more obvious, in that regard - but ones he couldn't really tell the truth about.

However, the gang gathering around him was a welcome distraction to the thought of his flesh trying to piece itself together and with baby fresh skin. With the wrong color and texture compared to the rest of it.

Dustin showed up with a small box of things he’d effectively stolen from the Munson trailer that morning. A couple tapes he grabbed, a player with headphones, a tattered blanket from the floor of his bedroom, a couple books, and his D&D notebook. A few general things Wayne recommended would help Eddie survive all the time spent in the sickbed until he was sent on his way home.

Lucas had wandered in with a similar assortment of wares for Max. A blanket off her own bed, studio pictures she’d taken with El, some of her comic books, and he brought in a stuffed tiger she won and gave to him last summer. She joked that it was going to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't go messing around with monsters again. Maybe it could watch out for her this time. They were all things that he knew had no real way of making her wake up sooner but even so, he secretly hoped they might help. Somehow.

Mike started making jokes about bringing over some bean bag chairs from his basement to make the hospital room more welcoming to guests. Bruce readily agreed that the stiff, small chairs provided were really no way to treat the people coming by the entertain him. Dustin pulled out a bag of chips from under the blanket and said they should all bring in snacks if they were really going to hold a one-shot there and make themselves at home. Eddie quickly made grabby hands at him and demanded to be given some first as the oldest and hurtest among them.

He also added that if they wanted to treat him, they could’ve snuck him the metal lunchbox that he usually deals out of. Let Eddie make himself a roll, or two, while he was in medical lockdown. That’d really relax him and make him feel at home more than some nicknacks or an old rag. He did pause a second to tell Erica she wasn't allowed to do any drugs until she was a grown-up, though. Before Jeff decided to be the one to tease him and ask if he really thought getting busted for smoking pot in a hospital right after he avoided a murder charge was the best idea.

They’d all started casting in suggestions for the kind of campaign they’d wanna do if Eddie was gonna write the whole thing up himself. Some wanted more puzzle aspects with things to figure out and solve. A few wanted more NPCs to interact with that weren’t just for hiring, fighting, or dying. A side comment was made about maybe not loading the battlefield so much that everyone dies as a way to close the session, they all laughed at that. Eddie swore he wouldn’t take it easy on them.

“What’s the point of fighting if you know you’ll win?” he’d asked.

“Actually getting back to the tavern to brag about it for once. Getting to say I settled down with the pretty barmaid when the adventuring day was done. Maybe.” Gareth argued back.

Josie looked at him doubtfully and asked Gareth how sure he was any character of his stood a chance with a woman, fictional or otherwise.

They all started barking laughs after that. More friendly insults flew around the room, the ones they've all already said a dozen times to each other and knew didn't hit any soft spots. Just the kind to rile them up, earn a few pointed glares and spur the next round of hits.

All the Hellfire members had a good dose of fun during their visit. But after a couple hours, Eddie started feeling pretty worn out. The guests all excused themselves and made sure everyone made it home while Eddie got started re-reading The Hobbit, since Henderson thought to include that in his care package. The familiar lines lulled him into a comfortable nap tucked in under his own blanket pretty easily. The items from home made the sterile room feel a little bit less alien. He didn't even get fifty pages into it - the company hadn't even reached the elves of Rivendell - before his eyelids were heavy. Soon he was putting the book back on the table and rolling his head away from the sunlit window to catch a few z's. But when he woke back up again, it wasn’t to an empty hospital room that felt a little too big.

Steve was back again. He’d been sitting in the chair with pursed lips. Slightly lost in thought while his fingers picked at the pages of the stack of books on the bedside table.

And he figured this was technically the third time he’s woken up with Steve Harrington by his side. Including the CPR incident, of course. As much as he was trying not to think about it. For his own sanity. Of course.

“Don’t get a paper cut,” Eddie cautioned as he pushed himself to sit up in the bed.

Steve startled slightly. Yanking back his hand with a finch, eyes snapping to Eddie before he shook his head. “No need to scare a guy…” he muttered under his breath.

“What? I was just watching out for you. Unless you were looking to steal a sleeping man’s literature, then I’d have to gut you. For the honor of my beloved books, you know.”

“Was just stopping by to pass along a message - a few of ‘em - on my way to the store.”

“Alright then, proceed.” Eddie nodded.

Steve began to count off the many points on his fingers,“ Well, firstly, Claudia wanted to ask if you had any allergies - I think she wants to bake you a fruit pie. If you had any preferences. But then Dustin said you were snoozing, so it’d probably be easier to ask your uncle. So he said you don’t really like pies, then he thought that you’d probably want new clothes until you get out of here. Since the old stuff is gross and ripped up now, and those hospital gowns really suck. But he was about to head off to work, so I said I could run some over.” Steve nudged a grocery bag by his foot at the mention,” And El wondered if you had a trick that grew your hair out long. If there was anything that worked fast. But I think Erica said her mom knew something she’d make for her, so I guess that’s taken care of. Oh! And your uncle wanted the keys to your van so he could check it over? Said you had a long drive coming up he wanted to make sure it’d handle okay.”

“Okay, wow- tell everyone to chill out about me, would ya? Alrighty, so… no major allergies, but yeah, fruit pies aren’t really my jam. But that’s usually because Wayne makes ‘em, and I think he skims when he reads dessert recipes so they all come out mushy. But Lady Henderson could probably make an apple that doesn’t rot in the Munson family refrigerator.” Eddie snickered to himself.

“I’ll pass that along.”

Eddie swung his legs over the side of the thin mattress, and dug a hand into the plastic hospital tote he’d been handed back, rooting around his belongings,“ And I’ll gladly trade you my keys for some clothes since you’re the little postal boy running my deliveries today.”

Steve passed over the bag he’d brought and pocketed the key ring while Eddie giddily broke for the bathroom. Dropping comments about wearing something that didn’t leave his ass hanging out as he slipped behind the heavy door. He was happily greeted by the sight of an Ozzy tee with bleach stains at the top of the bag. He’d nabbed it from a thrift shop in Indy a while back since he still hadn't been able to buy merchandise from a show himself. A little nod from Wayne about the tickets he and the other Corroded Coffin members had saved up for and been waiting to go to for months now. And now the affair was almost in reach, and he nearly missed it bleeding out in another world.

But instead, he tugged the shirt on along with a pair of loose pajama pants, already feeling worlds more comfortable than he had in a while. Alive and breathing. With exciting plans so close he could almost hear the buzz of the speaker system kicking on. Could almost feel his friends jostle around him while the music starts. It was the first time he’s actually gotten to put on some of his own clean clothes and think about upcoming plans in almost two weeks. And those two weeks in particular felt like years. He emerged from the bathroom feeling like both a new man and a little bit more like who he was before he traveled to another plane of existence, twice. And still, Steve was sitting in that damn chair.

“Were you waiting for the fashion show, or was there something else?” he asked.

Steve shrugged a second, like he was pretending he wasn't even sure himself,“ There mighta been another thing I was told to share when I dropped by.”

“Well?” Eddie dropped into the chair next to Steve instead of taking to his hospital bed,” Do you always like holding out to build suspense, or are you gonna share it already?”

Steve’s hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket. And then he pulled out a small golden tin. “Village Moisturizing Lip Lickers Lip Balm” it read with sweeping letters. Wild Cherry flavor.

Eddie’s mouth fell open for a second before quickly snapping shut again.

What was that supposed to mean?

And why did it look like Steve was holding it out for him?

“I’m sorry, what’s this about? This you telling me my lips are crusty after you kissed me awake like little Snow White?”

“CPR,” Steve corrected.

“Tomato-Tamato,” Eddie waved him off and placed a hand over his heart,” Point being, I don’t think an insult is a very nice present after all I’ve been through.”

Steve rolled his eyes and slid the top of the tin back. The container jutted out from under the cover like a matchstick box, and what Eddie saw inside was not some bright red lip gloss like he expected. Instead, it had been cleaned out and now held two thinly rolled joints in the case.

“Don’t judge a man for how he hides his stash when he’s so kindly sneaking you some drugs, maybe,” Steve suggested while Eddie looked down with glazed-over eyes. Almost like he was looking at a little bit of handheld heaven. “Henderson mentioned you had a certain special request.”

“I apologize- I apologize so much.” He corrected with clasped together hands,” Thank you. Thank you dearly, Steve Harrington, for this generous gift. I owe you my life for this immense kindness you found fit to bestow upon this humble man. Now, do I get them both or-”

“Don’t be greedy. I have it on good authority that this is top-shelf stuff right there. California quality. I planned to try it myself too.”

“Oh, so we’re having a smoke sesh together then? Thought you had a job to get to.”

“Eh. I don’t think any of us are betting on the reopening tomorrow being all that 'grand.' I got the keys to the place anyway. I can just stop by after-hours to finish looking over and sweeping up shop. Could hang around here for a bit. Unless you have some business you need to get to and want me to just take mine on the road.”

“Nah, nah. You’re welcome to stay. Plus I don’t think I’ve got a lighter on me so…” Eddie all but batted his eyelashes at him.

Steve couldn’t believe it,“ How does a dealer not have a lighter on him?”

He spoke sorrowfully,“ The one I had in my jeans took a dip in Lover’s Lake. She hasn’t sparked for me since.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve hummed, plucking out one of the rolls and placing it into Eddie’s eagerly awaiting fingers. In the second he spent pulling out his own, Eddie had already placed his between his lips expectantly. Brown, doe eyes wide open and stuck on Steve, waiting impatiently, almost starry with childlike glee. He looked silly to be that excited for a little pot.

“Geez,” Steve shoved on his shoulder as Eddie seemed to just keep leaning closer and closer in anticipation,” Make yourself useful and crack open the window.” He told him as Steve sat back to snake a hand into his pocket for the light.

The window only went halfway up - probably some policy or other about patient safety - but it gave them a few inches of screen they’d be able to blow the smoke out of, so it was enough to not stink up the room too badly. It didn’t take long to get themselves situated with each of their blunts burned at the ends. Steve struggled to remember the last time he’d lit up in the middle of the afternoon. It wasn’t even 3 pm yet. Most weeks around that time he's picking up Robin from the high school, and if his car even smells like cigarettes she'd pinch off her nose and groan about the stench.

Eddie, on the other hand, was no stranger to a little mid-day high.

Most days - when he wasn’t a wanted man on the run, that is - he liked to get a little baked. With or without any of his buddies, it usually slipped him into an easier state of mind. Made movie-watching, channel surfing, or songwriting just a little more entertaining. The thing was… he hadn’t really gotten any action over the last two weeks, his lungs took a bit of a beating in the last few days, and he’s just slept for the last few hours instead of responsibly sipping on the water by his bedside like was recommended. So, while he usually has no problem taking down the smokey sweetness and ignoring the irritation it brings with it, his constitution had taken to rolling with disadvantage on this particular occasion.

“Thank you, Dustin Henderson.” He spoke quietly into the embers like grace before a meal.

Then he sucked in a deep drag like he was so used to doing and immediately felt the prickle settle into his throat. His cheeks soon went red as he put all his efforts into keeping the toke down without hacking it up like an inexperienced little preteen. But in just seconds, the seal of his lips failed. In a fit of sputtering coughs, ashy breath blew away from Eddie, and those previously wonderstruck eyes were holding back tears.

And, had that been all of the event, Steve probably wouldn’t have laughed very much. Maybe a little, he was a drug dealer after all, but it wasn’t lose-your-mind funny.

The thing was, as Eddie’s body fought against the unwelcome feeling, it pulled at the still too-fresh stitches on his sides. He instantly yelped out and threw his hands down in an attempt to soothe the broken but healing skin. He barely caught the roll tightly pinched between his lips, nearly dropping it in his sudden jolt.

He looked ridiculous. Face red and scrunched up, eyes watery and mad, arms crossed and holding himself, joint precariously about to fall. Now that? That was a sight that reached “fucking hilarious” in Steve’s book. Since it was painted over someone you’d think could handle his shit better.

Steve quickly placed his own hand over his mouth, trying to hold back the laughs like how Eddie had just tried to hold back his wheezing.

“What-” he’d been interrupted by more coughs,” What the fuck are you- giggling at over there?” Eddie asked him angrily through the struggle.

And that was it.

The dam broke, and all of Steve’s laughter suddenly poured out of him. Like a tsunami rushing over a quaint coastal town, he was loud and cackling in a way that shook him so hard that he started feeling a similar strain on his own matching stitches. Eddie’s face screwed up further, and he started to kick away at Steve and his chair to separate them if he was going to be made fun of like this.

And then Steve felt the yank on his sides as he tried to bend away and out of reach. He copied Eddie’s pose to hold onto his still sore wounds.

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie yelled at him, assuming it was part of Steve’s joke.

Which was somehow only funnier.

“Stop! Stop it! The nurse is gonna kill me if I make her do these again!” Steve cried out as he pushed himself away, trying to dodge Eddie’s barrage of socked feet before someone actually caused some damage.

That made Eddie finally start to laugh in response. And before they could control themselves, they were both laughing so hard they cried. All the while wincing and swearing it wasn’t funny. Insisting that it hurt, and it was all the other’s fault, and they really needed to grow up, and have they no shame.

It took a while for the two to wind down. It was funny the way they just fell into the funnies so suddenly. Kind of felt like they’d really needed them. There was so much stress hanging around everything all the time. The opportunity to just laugh couldn’t be wasted. And they could only thank their lucky stars that all their yowling and cackling didn’t call a nurse or someone to check on them and catch them red-handed.

Eddie would eventually re-find his tolerance, so he and Steve were able to burn through their lit joints in something closer to peace. Eddie reiterated that he hasn’t had a fit like that in a long time. He could handle a bit of marijuana, but he was on his deathbed just a couple days ago. He deserved a pass.

Steve sighed. It wasn’t like he was judging him much over that part or anything. He hadn’t even smoked much himself recently. Since Robin hated cigarettes so much he just had less time to himself where he’d be able to without complaint. Plus, being alone with it isn’t the same as sharing the high with someone. And that circle he used to have that would crowd together at parties to get crossfaded didn’t exist anymore.

“So, what song did you pick?” Eddie asked as they worked through their inhales more smoothly.

Steve covered his eyes with the palms of his hands. Rubbing over his face in annoyance while a groan erupted up out of him.

“Ugh, which little asshole told you to ask me about that one, huh?”

“What? None of them? Nancy’s on my case about picking one, so I was asking around. Geez, didn’t know that was a sore subject for you, your majesty.”

Something in Steve objected to the title. But he pushed it down and moved on. Giving up the name of his worst-kept secret because even if he didn’t say it, there were about a dozen other people with the answer.

“Oh? Miss Bonnie Tyler is what does it for you?”

“What? You got a problem with her?” Steve came to her - and his own - defense.

“No. Not at all. Bonnie can rock, man. Just… not what I was expecting from all of that.” Eddie said with a motion to the man sitting across from him.

Steve challenged him,“ I thought your whole thing was about how assumptions about people are wrong? Especially in my case after your epiphany in the woods.”

“Look, I’m not a perfect person, alright.” Eddie shrugged and gave himself over to the idea,“ But sure, The Hair likes Bonnie and Footloose, noted.”

“What do you need with a list of my likes and dislikes?”

“Oh, it’s for my super evil satanic ritual. I’m gonna steal your soul and sell it to the highest bidder. It’s gonna finance my everlasting youth and ticket to fame, don’t you know?”

"Didn't realize I fetched such a high price."

"I assure you, I'll be getting top dollar. Might even hold an auction, let the demons enter a bidding war to lay claim to your fate."

“Ha ha.” Steve mocked with a flat, unimpressed tone. "Well, make it even."

"What?"

"Since you're collecting a list on me, give me the dirt on you." Steve reasoned and looked back to the table of paper he was peaking at earlier.

"What do you want to know?"

"What about this?" Steve picked off the top book from the stack," Tell me why this matters to someone."

And before Eddie could brace himself, his own copy of The Hobbit was being thrown at him. He barely caught it, not being a jock like Harrington and Sinclair.

"Have a little respect for a guy's literature!" he cried, cradling the words of Tolkien to his chest like he needed to protect them from further threat.

"Is it any good?" Steve asked. And he wasn't really being a jerk with the question. He seemed a little curious, but in the way that someone who doesn't like to read is only half-interested.

"Is it any good?" Eddie ridiculed. "Yeah, it's good. It's great. It's a staple of the genre, a legend of the bookshelves-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah- It's a classic, a must-read before you die, it'll fundamentally change you with the moral of the story. Sure, someone can say that about anything."

"Well, The Hobbit is the real deal."

"Convince me. Why do you like it?"

And Eddie was off to the races. A smile stretched across his face while he crossed his legs up in the chair. He started by commending the style of the writing. It was a simple, easy read. Something good for newbies to read and get into the fantasy world Tolkien built for the first time without getting overwhelmed. It was a prequel to the big trilogy, something to tell you where some of the pieces came from by following a smaller adventure. And the way it was written... it was written like it was meant to be read to someone. It was built for storytelling. Which Eddie loved to do.

"It's homey. And, I mean, I've buzzed through it a few times myself, and some of these lines just warm me up each and every go-through. Only part that sucks is that since it's such a foundational part of getting into fantasy, everyone I know with any sort of interest has already read it. One day, I'm gonna find someone I can read it to for the first time. Watch them discover it with my voice leading the way."

Steve shook his head. Reading was never a fun subject for him, so trying to make that some kind of expression of love just didn't seem like something anyone could really enjoy. Maybe he was a little stuck in his ways, but books were a headache. He was pretty sure about that. And, if he needed to deal with a hardcover headache, he'd rather take it from a lump on the noggin than spend hours looking over neverending lines of print.

Their Californian gifts had started working their magic though…

Purple Palm Tree Delight. What a thing it was.

He wouldn't say it was making him more agreeable to the idea of Eddie cracking open the book and lecturing at him, but he was in a better mood overall. More comfortable. Less on edge. Maybe a little too honest.

Steve was soon sat all lax in the uncomfy chair. Slumped down in it until his head could rest along the low back. He rolled that head, now feeling lighter than it had when he walked in, over to look at Eddie and snickered.

“I'll tell you a secret,” he offered, his shoulders hiking up to shrug slightly before he closed his eyes and muttered,” I already finished everything up at Family Video.”

“What?” Eddie’s head craned to the side.

“I wasn’t stopping here on my way over there. I stopped here on my way home.”

“Why’d you say otherwise then?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t wanna seem like I was betting on hanging around too long.”

“You brought a guy weed while he was stuck in his sick bed and ‘didn’t wanna seem like you bet to hang around’? What’s that about?”

“Who wants to seem desperate?” Steve posed the question at him, before dropping some of the advice he picked up from always wanted to seem like he's got everyone's approval,” If you always act like you’ve got somewhere else you can be, then it’s easy to run off when it feels like the welcome's expired. It's not as much of a rejection that way. Just you getting to your plans.”

Eddie understood it when it was spelled out for him like that. But that's never been the way that his world worked.

“Well, thank you for sticking around anyway.”

“Yeah…”

Steve seemed like his mind was going somewhere. But Eddie didn’t know how to follow it, wherever it was trekking. Steve's mind was unfamiliar territory. So he asked about his neighbor. Eddie’s eyes shifted over to where she was laid out, sharing their room, but not their conversation.

“Has Red always been as badass as she was last week?”

Steve’s whole expression softened when Eddie looked back at him. He set his hazel-y gaze onto her. Clear fondness was written on his face as he considered the question.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Steve paused. Remembering.

“She was always kinda crazy, as much as I saw. You sorta have to be to follow a kid you just met - one who swears up and down that monsters are real - out to a junkyard past sundown where another kid is saying they’re making a trap for one at. The same night we beat back demented, freaky hound-things, she apparently drugged a real demon, took my bat, and nearly smashed his family jewels under the spikes. Told him to get lost and leave her and hers alone. And I got to get scared shitless while she slammed the gas in his car and nearly drove us all off the road.” Steve would sometimes swear he still felt dizzy from that delirious wild ride.

“Her step-brother?”

“Yeah. Him.” His voice went lower as he continued,” First day I met her and she was beating back a two-legged monster. All on her own.”

Eddie looked back at her, wondering how much more hell she's lived through than he has. And she was still kicking.

“She’ll be fine.” Eddie decided.

“She will.” Steve agreed.

Time stretched on from there in easy conversation. Before they really knew it, the hour had flown by, and the clock would soon hit four. Steve was about to be sent on his way by the seemingly incredibly punctual nursing staff. So he smacked his hands on his legs and stood up from the window seat.

The daze of Purple Palm Tree Delight was already slipping away, so he figured he’d be fine to drive without sitting in the parking lot for a sobering nap.

“I’ll head off and drop these keys with your old man.”

With a nod, Eddie stood up behind him,” Well, since you’ll be running into him later anyway, might as well drop off the rest of this mess too.”

He picked up the plastic hospital bag that was effectively dirty laundry. Messy Warzone vest, tattered Hellfire shirt, black ripped jeans, and the jewelry he’s honestly been feeling sort of naked without. With that thought, though, he figured there couldn’t possibly be any medical harm in him putting back on just his necklace and favorite ring while he waited to be released.

“Just let me grab…” he’d started while he ducked his head down and picked through the sack. But he soon fell silent as his eyes raked over the contents.

Steve gave him a second before it seemed like Eddie wasn’t just quiet out of focus. “What’s up?” he asked, watching the man fuss about his belongings with growing nerves.

Immediately, Eddie grabbed onto the bottom of the bag, turning it over and dumping the entire contents out onto the hospital bed. Dirty, bloodied clothes littered it, but he just shoved past them and touched the bits of silver shining back at him through the grime. Worst part was, it wasn’t all there.

His mother’s engagement ring was gone.

And there weren’t really words for the way that felt.

He might describe it like his stomach hollowed out, or like the ground beneath his feet vanished, or like he was instantly drenched in ice water. He might say that it felt worse than blacking out or hearing his voice crack over a microphone. Could even think about all the other things he would’ve happily given up before that ring.

But he couldn’t say any of that to Steve Harrington. Even if they just spent the better part of an hour giggling and getting pretty damn candid with one another. That ring - his mother - that just wasn't something he talked about. With anyone. Period.

So instead, he froze. His hands pressed heavily into the covers, and he started to curl his finger and dig into the clothes with the anger, and the shame, and the feeling like, suddenly, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. In just a second, he felt lost. And it was all he could to try and stave off the oncoming tears. The ones trying to boil over, and not over something as surface level as an itchy windpipe.

“Everything cool?” Steve tried again.

And Eddie snapped back up. His face no longer aimed down at the remaining objects thrown out before him. He reined himself back in enough to survive the next few minutes, his fist holding onto the chain looped through a red guitar pick. As if he could even pretend that was all he’d been looking for. He tucked the rest of it back into the bag and handed it over quickly.

“Fine.”

That was all he really trusted himself to say.

And, as if that ending didn’t just flip the last hour they spent together on its head, Steve decided it wasn’t his business. So he took the offer with an attempt at a casual smile.

“Sounds good. I’ll pass it along.”

And he was gone.

The nurse made a face at them when she got to Eddie’s door to dismiss the visitor. Even though they’d been careful to blow all the smoke out the window and dispose of the evidence, the smell of weed stuck out from the otherwise chemically clean hospital. But she let him walk anyway, so Steve went out the door and climbed back into his car.

The passenger seat of the Beemer was full of cassettes and vinyl records from the group for Mikhail to pour over when he got back. He made mental notes to call Claudia and let her know apple pie was the request while he pulled out of the parking lot. Heading toward the edge of town to make a detour so he could hand over the rest of Eddie’s belongings to his uncle.

Steve buzzed the main entrance of the power plant when he arrived. In just a minute Wayne was opening the heavy metal door and greeting him with a friendly expression behind tired eyes. And in those eyes, there was a brief flash of recognition. One not so dissimilar to the way the nurse had looked at him on his way out of Eddie’s room. With a quick quirk of his nose, Steve was pretty sure he smelled the marijuana on his clothes.

But Wayne moved past the notice without comment,” Thanks for making the run for me, son.”

“Sure. I’d say any time, but this was my last day off before Family Video will have me all but chained to the store until we get more hires.” Steve huffed and handed over the bag.

“I feel that. Things are running ‘bout the same over here.” he yawned and took Eddie's stuff,“ And how’d he seem? I won’t be able to go by myself except for a bit tomorrow morning.”

“He’s all good. Needs to make sure not to mess with his stitches too much, but good.”

Wayne smiled fondly,” Yeah, he was always one to pick at scabs when he was little, so that tracks.”

Steve weighed the thought with a light chuckle,“ I don’t know if he’s picking 'em, but he was kicking at me, so he needs to watch that he doesn’t pull them undone overexerting himself too much.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side looking at him,“ He was kicking at you?”

Steve simply answered,“ Long story.”

“Right… Well, thank you again. For the keys and whatever you did that made him worked up enough to kick at you.” Wayne studied him for a moment and added,” But you mighta deserved it, all I know. You a troublemaker?”

“All I did was laugh! I swear!” Steve insisted.

“Hmmmm… maybe so.” he didn't act as if he bought it,” Why don’t you get on home now, ‘fore someone starts to worry about you.”

“Okay. But if you need anything, let us know. We’re all watching out for each other.”

“How ‘bout I call you when we got a place to move back into - one that's not tore in half - and I’ll put you to work hauling boxes. Till then you can relax.”

There was another small chuckle to come from Steve as he was about to head off. “Yes, sir,” he told him. But he turned back around right before Wayne had shut the door to get back to work.

“Actually, I did have a question,” he added.

Wayne looked back at him and stepped out of the doorway,“ Yeah?”

“Eddie was fine while I was there, for the most of it. But, at the end, he got kinda quiet. It was after he looked through his bag and pulled out the necklace. But maybe something was missing?”

Wayne’s eyebrow drew up, and he started combing his hand through everything. It didn't take long for a look to come onto his face. A knowing kind that said he'd pinpointed exactly what it was. Still, he checked with Steve,“ You said the only thing he took out of the bag was his necklace?”

“Yeah, with the red pick.”

“Not one of his rings?”

“No,” he was sure of it,” He just left the three of them in there and handed it over.”

Wayne nodded slowly and looked past Steve. Something like regret or a kind of mourning sat in his eyes. “That explains it…”

“What?”

“He has four rings.” Wayne corrected. “These big ones, he likes them, 'course, but the other one is the important one. He lost one of these and he mighta just been annoyed, but… the other was his mom’s.”

Those last words left Wayne like he barely realized he said them out loud. Maybe he hadn't meant to. It was a wistful thing, spoken with a soft sorrow to believe the news. Mostly just to say it to himself.

But he had said it out loud and just a few feet away, so Steve heard it.

“Oh…”

Steve couldn't exactly imagine how it felt. To picture his mom's engagement ring… it wasn't something that filled him with happy feelings. It… it usually stirred something in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw the large stone glint under harsh lights. To watch it twist between her fingers any time finances became the topic of conversation. It seemed to be a nervous habit of hers that always caught his eye with a sharp gleam.

But the way Wayne spoke of Eddie's, it meant something good to him. And it was gone. After such a terrible thing, he lost something important.

“He never takes that thing off, so if it wasn’t on him when he went into the hospital and got put in this sack… then it’s lost.” he resigned himself to the fact.

“Or maybe it’s in the RV.” Steve offered, trying to find hope.

“Or deep in the woods, or out in the street, or maybe it's stolen…” Wayne argued against the optimistic approach,” There’s really no way of knowing for sure, kiddo. But that- yeah, that would sour his mood.”

Wayne sat with the knowledge a second before he looked back up at Steve and excused himself,“ Uh, thank you for mentioning it. I’ll check in with him as soon as I can. You have a good one now.”

Steve didn't really know what else to say,“ Yeah, you too. Sorry.”

“Not your fault. Things just happen sometimes. Can't do anything about it.”

And the door shut behind him while Wayne’s eyes stuck to the bag. Like, perhaps if he just looked a second longer, the ring in question would appear for him. Because thinking of going back to his boy and telling him that he was right - it was gone, and he couldn't get it back - it almost broke his heart all over again.

Before Steve went home, he stopped by the trailer park. It wasn't completely planned. He more so just found himself there to the thought of Eddie alone in that hospital room looking at his unusually bare finger. He unbuckled from his car in front of the Munson's place. Stepped up the stairs and let himself in through the unlocked door, past the police tape. He walked into the living room and looked over the carpeted floor for the shine of misplaced jewelry.

If it fell off of Eddie's finger when they flipped through the mini-gate, it would've landed there. That's what he figured.

The room around him was covered in mugs and baseball hats, most of which had been knocked off the shelves and hooks. Scattered onto the edges of the room, around the mattress and scraps of torn sheets. They'd all really made a mess of it in their rushing around. He knelt down to the ground and combed his fingers through the short shag, tugging the rope out of his way. But there was no missing ring in that trailer, in or out of hiding.

He came out of the small home and looked across the driving lane. The Jameson's RV had been returned and parked back in their lot a couple dozen yards away. He did mention that place to Wayne when he thought about where a ring could've gone. It could be in there if it was thrown off his hand sometime between the Upside Down and the emergency room. He hadn't thought to look for it when the police let them get back their stuff. Didn't know it was missing back then, of course. But now that he was on the hunt, that was the next place to check.

On his way over, he watched the gravel under his feet for if the ring was lost when Eddie was loaded up, but there was no sight of it down there either. As he turned the corner around the front of the vehicle, he saw the couple lounging in fold-out chairs. Just like they had been when the kids took their mobile home in the first place.

Okay. Steve just needed to ask them if they might've seen a ring somewhere in there since they got it back. Couldn't possibly be too awkward. Surely. They'd understand.

The pair looked up at Steve as he approached. He pulled on his nicest expression and threw up a hand in a quick greeting. They seemed to study him for a second. Not placing his face easily.

“Hi there. Uh- I'm Steve-”

But that was about all it took for their eyes to darken at him.

Mr. Jameson spoke up first,“ How dare you-”

Immediately, Steve fell into apologies,” I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really didn't plan to bother either of you at all. Especially not after… everything. Um- but I needed to ask something. Real quick. Any chance-”

“You don't need to be askin' us anything after what you and those hooligans did-”

“I know. And I agree, and I am really, really sorry. But-” There was a slight stutter to his breath as he tried again,” if there's any chance that the two of you might've seen a ring laying around. One of us just found out it's lost and-”

The fire in the woman's eyes blazed with insult,“ Are you accusing us of stealing-”

Steve tried to signal surrender. “Absolutely not, ma'am-”

But she rolled on through, pointer finger raised to keep him silent,“ If we'd seen anything in there that wasn't ours, we would've handed it over to the police to give back. I don't know what kind of people you think we are-”

“I swear I wasn't assuming-”

“But we're good people. Not the kind to steal a good, honest person's home and drive off with it without an ounce of respect. Knocking over trash, wasting their gas, making a mess of their things with no regard for the people it belongs to-”

“Again, I'm so sorry-”

She raised her voice following the interruption,“ But I cannot believe, after all we've been through since then, that you'd show back up here and try to extort us.”

Steve's eyes almost bulged out of his head at the suggestion. He frantically shook his head,“ No, no, no-”

“So now what?” her husband picked up,” You gonna call Powell with your rich kid connections, tell him you left valuables behind? See if they'll strip our RV and hand you whatever jewelry they might find in there for you to pawn off? Catch your thrills that way?”

“No! I would never. I swear. I just- I already looked around, and this was the last place I could think of where it could've fallen, so I thought I should ask-”

“I think you best get, boy. And I don't ever want to see you 'round here again, or we'll be the ones making a call to that police station.”

“I- I understand. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening. Have a good night.”

Steve scampered away from them pretty quickly. Not stopping or slowing down until he got into his car and closed the door. With his hands firmly on the wheel, he checked the mirrors to make sure there wasn't a disgruntled pair hot on his trail. Though neither of them seemed to follow him away from their property.

He let out the breath he was holding.

“Shit.”

He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so desperate to find that ring for Eddie. Surely he or his uncle would be able to look around for themselves. And, he knew that it wasn't exactly his fault. He didn't see it and kick it away without knowing what it was or anything. But if Eddie was wearing it before Steve picked him up and hiked him across the Upside Down and back to their own Hawkins… and if Steve was careless or something, let his arm flop around or whatever, and that was when it fell off… in that case, it did feel a little bit like his fault.

To think about that whole evening looking back, maybe he shouldn't have let Eddie volunteer to hang back by the trailer with Dustin as the distraction. Maybe Steve would've been faster at outrunning the bats, or maybe Eddie wouldn't have gotten strung up by vines, and maybe Vecna would already be dealt with, and Eddie wouldn't have lost his ring, and Max wouldn't be stuck in a coma, and…

The possibilities swirled around his head long after he'd driven away from the trailer park, made it back home, and excused himself for a shower. Steve's messed up a lot of stuff in his life. Maybe those past few weeks were just the latest mistake he's made so far.

[tippenfunkaport]

did you just delete all your fics off the archive?? i can't find any of them and i'm freaking out

I didn't delete anything, anon. I did, however, limit my fics on AO3 to registered users so if you're logged out, they won't show. Log into your account and they will all be right where they have always been.

I explained why I did this here, but long story short, AI is ruining everyone's fun yet again. My hope is that this is a temporary measure and as soon as we get some kind of legislation protecting artists from their work being scraped without permission, I'll be able to make everything public again. Just a quick scan through the SPOP tags on ao3 reveal I'm far from the only person who's done this.

To avoid confusion, I have temporarily set a couple of old one shots and one ongoing fic back to public with a message about logging into see the rest. I strategically picked ones from each of my biggest series so hopefully that will catch the stragglers who missed my post so they understand what is going on.

[aria0fgold]

Bro... what happened to my copy of OMORI...

WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE THAT??? I use 2x Resolution, Windowed mode (I have a fear of putting anything in fullscreen). And the last time I played the game, it did not look like that. It looked like that when I booted it up and thought loading a random save might fix it maybe but no.

This ^^^ is an old screenshot from last time I played where there's no unnecessary black void wasting space.

SO WHAT HAPPENED TO IT NOW??? THERE'S A VOID EVERYWHERE! I didn't touch this game for nearly a year bro, I also didn't touch any of my Steam settings so what the fuck is that.

[caaaaaaaaaaaaaampbell]

Me, getting into a fic: Hmm, thats pretty good.

Me, seeing a lime warning: Thats a little weird...

Me, remembering the citrus scale: I- I think I need to stick to ao3 for awhile.

[seyaryminamoto]

A Cherry Adventure takes place between which chapters from the Northern Air Temple arc?

It's set during in the vague short timeskip between chapters 104 and 105. The Mechanist is still discussing the specifics of the design of the bigger hot-air balloon in A Cherry Adventure, as far as I remember. 104 features Sokka coming up with the solution so the balloons can fly, and 105 skips ahead to the point where the balloons have been built and are pretty much ready to be tested :'D

... In case anyone here has no idea wtf I'm talking about, A Cherry Adventure is an extra story, a plot bunny I had for this specific arc from AGES ago, and that just didn't fit properly within the flow of the story. Hence, I didn't post that as a chapter but as a bit of an omake, on Tumblr. Here's the link :'D

[ailinu]

aw man, nothing makes you want to have a casually-playable instrument on hand like hearing someone else with one, huh

[apollo-cackling]

urban fantasy never has been a very compelling setting to me idk. it can't (or in my experience doesn't ever) go as achingly real as literary/contemporary fiction (the death of vivek oji, ocean vuong's books, bloom into you), but it can't go as fully fantasy as proper high fantasy (malazan, this one MG series I remember loving... the Tapestry?, etc.) so it's like ehhh?

[jerirose]

.

[applescabs]

WE'RE FINALLY DONE WITH TACTICAAAA AGHAGHHS

[raeathnos]

.