Hi, I'm Lina and I'm trying to write some texts about my original lore and OC's and also some fics.
Right now my attention is focused on stranger things, but maybe later I'll share fics about other fandoms here.
Some info about me: intp, 23 y.o., and english isn't my native language, so please don't judge me too harshly for mistakes (but I would be glad to have some feedback in comments!!).
If you like my fics, I'd like to try requests! (now for stranger things only)
Fandoms: stranger things (steddie, byler, jancy), arcane, naruto, fear street.
summary:Â Steve and Dustin are haunted by visions. For some reason, it's always Eddie Munson.
word count: 2.1k
tags/warnings: angst, post-s4/pre-s5, canon compliant, dead!Eddie, elements of horror
a/n: my first st (and steddie) fic, I guess? hope you enjoy it!!
A faint squeak pulled Steve out of his sleep. He immediately realized he hadn't woken up in his own bedroom, or Henderson's or Buckley's house⊠His confused mind sorted through possible places in which Steve could sleep while he, bewildered, examined the room. His eyes caught on the dark wavy hair and the black leather, and Steve perked up, rising from the chair where he seemed to have napped:
âEddie? Hey, man, I'm not sure I remember this room in your trailerâŠâ
An important thought floated at the edge of his mind, drawn by the discrepancy â he had indeed been in the Munsons' trailer before â but it was drowned out by the joy of recognition. He hadn't seen Eddie for so long â his rational side asked again: why? â and now Steve felt that he was glad to see him, that⊠he missed him?
Eddie turned slowly, too slowly â after their talk in the Upside Down, Steve remembered well how abruptly, even jerkily, Eddie changed his position in space â and something inside Steve clenched.
âSte-eve Harrington,â Eddie Munson drawled, looking him straight in the eyes. The Hellfire Club T-shirt, the leather jacket, the tousled hair, the smirk frozen on his face â just like that day, like a picture or a memory.
They're definitely not in the Munsons' trailer. It was almost completely destroyed by the rift from the gate throughout the city, a half-year has passed, Steve belatedly remembered. He's at the Squawk, and Eddie... Eddie shouldn't be here.
âWhy, Steve?â His voice sounded strange.
Eddie swayed awkwardly and took a step forward.
âI did dive after you, I fought the fucking demo-bats, Steve.â
His appearance distorted, as if a memory had blurred and then cleared again: the T-shirt with the demonic face was now torn at the sides and stained with blood; slimy, dirty drops were slowly trickling down his jacket; his previously fluffy hair was stuck together in a wet lump, and a few strands of hair hung like thin icicles from under his bandana. Eddie took a few more steps towards him.
âWhy didn't you come when it was my turn?â
Steve backed away, struggling to move his legs, which were numb from sleeping in an awkward position.
âI wasn't good enough for you, King Steve?â
Steve's back hit the wall. Eddie stepped up close, slammed his palms hard on either side of his head, and almost shouted:
âWhy didnât you save me, Steve?â
There was hardly a third of an inch difference in height between them, and the skinny Munson looked noticeably smaller next to him. Now Eddie loomed over him like a six-foot-tall, faceless beast. Eddie smelled of rot, dampness, death â smelled of the Upside Down. Steve could barely breathe.
He suddenly remembered how Eddie had pinned him against the wall of the boathouse in the same way, almost an eternity ago, pressing the sharp edge of a broken bottle to his neck. Steve had been scared then too, but in a different way, because Eddie had been different: a cornered little animal with a lack of sanity in his eyes, but ready to seize on the tiniest chance that he might truly be heard, that he might be believedâŠ
Steve finally understood why Eddie's voice had sounded wrong. âCause it was his, Steve's, voice. Dead Eddie was speaking to him with the voice of his own guilt.
Steve sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry,â he muttered hoarsely, as if this time he hoped to persuade Eddie to let him go. As if he could justify himself to himself. âThings didn't go according to plan: damn Vecna, damn vines, we were way late, and⊠I thought you and Dustin were safe, you promised me, you promised not to try to be a hero, remember?â
For a moment, Steve thought he saw something warm and familiar flash in the empty eyes of his vision.
âForgive me, please, Eddie, Iâm sorry I was late.â
The room blurred, and Steve closed his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek.
â
Robin appeared in the doorway:
âSteve? Who are you talkinââ She stopped short and ran to him. âSteve! Hey, Steve!â
Her worried voice was reaching to Steve in a muted way, he could barely make out what she was babbling. Robin shook him hard by the shoulders, and Steve felt the prolonged nightmare had finally released him.
He slowly slid down the wall to the floor, covering his face with his hands.
Robin's cries brought the others â Nancy, Jonathan, and the little Wheeler and Sinclair. They crowded around him. Robin couldn't stop calling his name and asking what had happened. He also heard Nancy's concerned voice and a hesitant suggestion from one of the kids that maybe they needed music. But he didn't want to say anything â or couldn't; didn't want to take his hands from his face or look up. What if Eddie was still here?
âWhat happened? Steve?â
He couldn't ignore that voice. Steve raised his head, lowered his hands, and blinked until his vision cleared. Dustin stood frozen in the doorway, looking at him in a way â Steve had never seen so much terror in someone's gaze. He felt sick.
â
* * *
â
When Steve came to his senses a little and everyone was convinced that no one was dying right now, they left him alone for a while and went off to prepare for the crawl.
Steve paced the tiny room where he now spent more nights than in his own house, trying to think about anything except Eddie.
âSteve? Can we talk?â
It was the first time Steve had seen Henderson hesitate at the threshold of his personal space.
âCome in,â he nodded, making an inviting gesture with his hand, and stopped his own pacing.
Dustin, pale and worried, stared at him wide-eyed â Steve felt his stomach clench again, and something rise to his throat.
âHey, are you okay?â
Dustin shook his head.
âNot really. Um⊠Steve, what exactly happened? Did you⊠see something?â
A chill ran down Steve's spine.
âWhy are you asking?â
âYou were crying,â Dustin whispered, and Steve noticed his red, puffy eyes.
âI just... I saw something,â Dustin continued quietly, âI think I had a vision. Like... Max.â
Steve cursed, jumped to his feet, and began pacing the room again.
âDamn! Why didn't you tell me right away?â
âI don't know,â Dustin hunched his shoulders and looked down at the floor. âThere was Eddie, but not our Eddie, a different one⊠wrong. Do you understand?â
Tears streamed down Dustin's face. Steve's breath caught in his throat. Steve understood.
âDamnâŠâ he muttered, walking up to the kid and hugging him carefully. A physical âI'm with you, I'm here for youâ instead of the words â Steve didn't have words. Dustin buried his face in Steveâs chest, and Steve felt his shirt growing wet there.
âIt's okay, buddy, it's okay,â Steve managed to say, not fully realizing what he was saying. âIt'll be okay.â
In his arms, Dustin was slowly calming down. Steve was stroking his grown-out curly hair and thinking. The inner tension pressed against his temples. Henderson pulled away, and Steve released the embrace.
âWait, did you have any other symptoms like Max and the other⊠victims?â Steve rummaged through his already chaotic memories, trying to coax out a list of the symptoms of Vecna's curse.
âNo, no,â Dustin shook his head, âthat's it. Headaches, nosebleeds â nothing. It's just... yesterday, around ten, I had this⊠vision.â
âOkay,â Steve nodded. âSomething new, cool.â
It didn't sound like anything good, but at least there was a chance it wasn't the same killing curse?
âHey, promise me that you'll tell me right away if anything changes? Any pain or⊠another vision, okay?â
âNot so fast,â Dustin cut him off. âYou still haven't answered my question, by the way, so now it's your turn.â
âOkay, okay, fine. Yeah, I saw something too. Someone,â Steve looked away, swallowing the name that stuck in his throat, but it slipped off his lips anyway. âEddieâŠâ
Dustin gave him a strange look â Steve couldn't make sense of it â and then impulsively hugged him again.
â
* * *
â
That crawl went as usual: Hopper came back with nothing.
Nothing new or strange happened the next day, or a week later, or a month later⊠Steve kept an eye on Dustin at every opportunity; he noticed how Dustin winced and looked away from his worried glances, but he couldn't help himself. They didn't talk about Eddie anymore, and Steve hoped that meant Dustin wasn't having any more visions. Eventually, Henderson stopped visiting the radio station altogether unless absolutely necessary, meaning he didn't show up at all between missions.
Steve had visions â three more times in the last couple of months â but his friends weren't around to notice, and he didn't tell anyone. Steve even almost got used to these hallucinations and to the feeling of guilt. To him.
â
Steve was going to spend that night at the radio station again, alone. Robin had run off to the hospital (apparently, Vickie had another night shift), Nance tried to spend her free time with her family, maintaining the illusion of normality, and Jonathan never showed up at the Squawk without her. And Steve was fine with that â after all, the silence had its own charm.
â
Steve was almost asleep when a soft hissing sound made him open his eyes: someone was calling his name.
âWhatâŠ?â
A dark silhouette loomed over him.
âHey there,â the silhouette leaned over, and a shock of hair almost brushed Steve's hand, which lying on the blanket. âDid you miss me, Stevie?â
Steve tried to move away, but couldn't. His arms, legs â his whole body froze, refusing to obey his will.
A chuckle broke the silence.
âOh, Ste-eve. Are you scared?â
A dark figure with Eddie Munsonâs face looked down at him mockingly. Blood pounded wildly in his ears, and the inability to move even a finger rolled through his body like leaden panic. Eddie slowly moved closer, pressing his palms against Steve's chest. Instantly, it became difficult to breathe, as if his ribcage was pinned under a concrete slab. A fluffy lock of hair brushed his cheek, and the air in his lungs ran out. Eddie pressed down on Steve with all his weight.
Steve wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Eddie's eyes â alien, empty â were so close that Steve could see his reflection in them.
âPlease,â Steve said hoarsely. He couldn't even move his head to turn away from Eddie, he just squeezed his eyes shut until colored spots bloomed behind his lids.
âOh, now you don't wanna look at me,â Eddie drawled. âWhy's that, Steve? Do I scare you that much?â
Where Eddie's hair had been tickling his face, Steve suddenly felt something wet and cold.
âOr,â Eddie continued in a silky, unfamiliar voice, âam I not good enough for you, Steve?â
Steve had heard those words before, but each time they seemed to grow sharper, more piercing, squeezing his insides in a thorny vice. Eddie was good. Eddie deserved much, much more than being hounded by a pack of jocks, falsely accused of murder, and dying horribly in the teeth of beasts from someoneâs nightmare. And Steve couldn't stop thinking that Eddie hadn't gotten what he deserved because of him.
âNo⊠Eddie,â the musty smell of the Upside Down crept into his throat. Steve's eyes widened, revealing bitten cheeks, matted hair, and black, terrifyingly black eyes right in front of him. âIâŠâ
âWhy didn't you come?â Eddie whispered, his voice was full of melancholy.
âI wanted to come back for you, I swear,â Steve replied, repeating it to himself for the thousandth time. âIâd really like to make it, Eddie.â
Black eyes stared into him, as if the void were staring back. For so longâŠ
âEddie, please. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry,â Steve mouthed.
Please, believe me.
The void looked away: black eyes became his usual brown, the smell of the Upside Down, having left a scent deep in Steveâs lungs, receded, the cold and slimy feeling on his cheek became fluffy and ticklish again. Eddie blinked. Slowly, he pulled away and slid off the bed, keeping his gaze on Steve's face.
Steve finally breathed freely. He so desperately wanted to lift his hand and touch that fluffy hair with his fingertips, but by the time the numbness left his palm, Eddie had already jumped to his feet and ended up against the opposite wall.
The last thing Steve heard before Eddie disappeared from his life forever once again was a wistful:
Well, Iâve finished my first st fanfic!! I had this idea from the night after the first trailer s5 was released (I literally dreamed I was watching season 5 where Steve and Dustin both had visions of Eddie đąđą)
I really liked this idea. And, initially, when I thought that the text would be shorter, I planned to do it before the release of vol1, because I was afraid that they'd actually do it in the series (after s4, I thought it was obvious...). But as we can see, writing (and translating into English) took an unexpectedly long time (and ofc s5 was... disappointing)
So, basically, I was trying to unlock the potential of Steddie in s5 and make Eddie haunting the narrative literally haunt Steve (and Dustin)â
summary:Â Steve and Dustin are haunted by visions. For some reason, it's always Eddie Munson.
word count: 2.1k
tags/warnings: angst, post-s4/pre-s5, canon compliant, dead!Eddie, elements of horror
a/n: my first st (and steddie) fic, I guess? hope you enjoy it!!
A faint squeak pulled Steve out of his sleep. He immediately realized he hadn't woken up in his own bedroom, or Henderson's or Buckley's house⊠His confused mind sorted through possible places in which Steve could sleep while he, bewildered, examined the room. His eyes caught on the dark wavy hair and the black leather, and Steve perked up, rising from the chair where he seemed to have napped:
âEddie? Hey, man, I'm not sure I remember this room in your trailerâŠâ
An important thought floated at the edge of his mind, drawn by the discrepancy â he had indeed been in the Munsons' trailer before â but it was drowned out by the joy of recognition. He hadn't seen Eddie for so long â his rational side asked again: why? â and now Steve felt that he was glad to see him, that⊠he missed him?
Eddie turned slowly, too slowly â after their talk in the Upside Down, Steve remembered well how abruptly, even jerkily, Eddie changed his position in space â and something inside Steve clenched.
âSte-eve Harrington,â Eddie Munson drawled, looking him straight in the eyes. The Hellfire Club T-shirt, the leather jacket, the tousled hair, the smirk frozen on his face â just like that day, like a picture or a memory.
They're definitely not in the Munsons' trailer. It was almost completely destroyed by the rift from the gate throughout the city, a half-year has passed, Steve belatedly remembered. He's at the Squawk, and Eddie... Eddie shouldn't be here.
âWhy, Steve?â His voice sounded strange.
Eddie swayed awkwardly and took a step forward.
âI did dive after you, I fought the fucking demo-bats, Steve.â
His appearance distorted, as if a memory had blurred and then cleared again: the T-shirt with the demonic face was now torn at the sides and stained with blood; slimy, dirty drops were slowly trickling down his jacket; his previously fluffy hair was stuck together in a wet lump, and a few strands of hair hung like thin icicles from under his bandana. Eddie took a few more steps towards him.
âWhy didn't you come when it was my turn?â
Steve backed away, struggling to move his legs, which were numb from sleeping in an awkward position.
âI wasn't good enough for you, King Steve?â
Steve's back hit the wall. Eddie stepped up close, slammed his palms hard on either side of his head, and almost shouted:
âWhy didnât you save me, Steve?â
There was hardly a third of an inch difference in height between them, and the skinny Munson looked noticeably smaller next to him. Now Eddie loomed over him like a six-foot-tall, faceless beast. Eddie smelled of rot, dampness, death â smelled of the Upside Down. Steve could barely breathe.
He suddenly remembered how Eddie had pinned him against the wall of the boathouse in the same way, almost an eternity ago, pressing the sharp edge of a broken bottle to his neck. Steve had been scared then too, but in a different way, because Eddie had been different: a cornered little animal with a lack of sanity in his eyes, but ready to seize on the tiniest chance that he might truly be heard, that he might be believedâŠ
Steve finally understood why Eddie's voice had sounded wrong. âCause it was his, Steve's, voice. Dead Eddie was speaking to him with the voice of his own guilt.
Steve sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry,â he muttered hoarsely, as if this time he hoped to persuade Eddie to let him go. As if he could justify himself to himself. âThings didn't go according to plan: damn Vecna, damn vines, we were way late, and⊠I thought you and Dustin were safe, you promised me, you promised not to try to be a hero, remember?â
For a moment, Steve thought he saw something warm and familiar flash in the empty eyes of his vision.
âForgive me, please, Eddie, Iâm sorry I was late.â
The room blurred, and Steve closed his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek.
â
Robin appeared in the doorway:
âSteve? Who are you talkinââ She stopped short and ran to him. âSteve! Hey, Steve!â
Her worried voice was reaching to Steve in a muted way, he could barely make out what she was babbling. Robin shook him hard by the shoulders, and Steve felt the prolonged nightmare had finally released him.
He slowly slid down the wall to the floor, covering his face with his hands.
Robin's cries brought the others â Nancy, Jonathan, and the little Wheeler and Sinclair. They crowded around him. Robin couldn't stop calling his name and asking what had happened. He also heard Nancy's concerned voice and a hesitant suggestion from one of the kids that maybe they needed music. But he didn't want to say anything â or couldn't; didn't want to take his hands from his face or look up. What if Eddie was still here?
âWhat happened? Steve?â
He couldn't ignore that voice. Steve raised his head, lowered his hands, and blinked until his vision cleared. Dustin stood frozen in the doorway, looking at him in a way â Steve had never seen so much terror in someone's gaze. He felt sick.
â
* * *
â
When Steve came to his senses a little and everyone was convinced that no one was dying right now, they left him alone for a while and went off to prepare for the crawl.
Steve paced the tiny room where he now spent more nights than in his own house, trying to think about anything except Eddie.
âSteve? Can we talk?â
It was the first time Steve had seen Henderson hesitate at the threshold of his personal space.
âCome in,â he nodded, making an inviting gesture with his hand, and stopped his own pacing.
Dustin, pale and worried, stared at him wide-eyed â Steve felt his stomach clench again, and something rise to his throat.
âHey, are you okay?â
Dustin shook his head.
âNot really. Um⊠Steve, what exactly happened? Did you⊠see something?â
A chill ran down Steve's spine.
âWhy are you asking?â
âYou were crying,â Dustin whispered, and Steve noticed his red, puffy eyes.
âI just... I saw something,â Dustin continued quietly, âI think I had a vision. Like... Max.â
Steve cursed, jumped to his feet, and began pacing the room again.
âDamn! Why didn't you tell me right away?â
âI don't know,â Dustin hunched his shoulders and looked down at the floor. âThere was Eddie, but not our Eddie, a different one⊠wrong. Do you understand?â
Tears streamed down Dustin's face. Steve's breath caught in his throat. Steve understood.
âDamnâŠâ he muttered, walking up to the kid and hugging him carefully. A physical âI'm with you, I'm here for youâ instead of the words â Steve didn't have words. Dustin buried his face in Steveâs chest, and Steve felt his shirt growing wet there.
âIt's okay, buddy, it's okay,â Steve managed to say, not fully realizing what he was saying. âIt'll be okay.â
In his arms, Dustin was slowly calming down. Steve was stroking his grown-out curly hair and thinking. The inner tension pressed against his temples. Henderson pulled away, and Steve released the embrace.
âWait, did you have any other symptoms like Max and the other⊠victims?â Steve rummaged through his already chaotic memories, trying to coax out a list of the symptoms of Vecna's curse.
âNo, no,â Dustin shook his head, âthat's it. Headaches, nosebleeds â nothing. It's just... yesterday, around ten, I had this⊠vision.â
âOkay,â Steve nodded. âSomething new, cool.â
It didn't sound like anything good, but at least there was a chance it wasn't the same killing curse?
âHey, promise me that you'll tell me right away if anything changes? Any pain or⊠another vision, okay?â
âNot so fast,â Dustin cut him off. âYou still haven't answered my question, by the way, so now it's your turn.â
âOkay, okay, fine. Yeah, I saw something too. Someone,â Steve looked away, swallowing the name that stuck in his throat, but it slipped off his lips anyway. âEddieâŠâ
Dustin gave him a strange look â Steve couldn't make sense of it â and then impulsively hugged him again.
â
* * *
â
That crawl went as usual: Hopper came back with nothing.
Nothing new or strange happened the next day, or a week later, or a month later⊠Steve kept an eye on Dustin at every opportunity; he noticed how Dustin winced and looked away from his worried glances, but he couldn't help himself. They didn't talk about Eddie anymore, and Steve hoped that meant Dustin wasn't having any more visions. Eventually, Henderson stopped visiting the radio station altogether unless absolutely necessary, meaning he didn't show up at all between missions.
Steve had visions â three more times in the last couple of months â but his friends weren't around to notice, and he didn't tell anyone. Steve even almost got used to these hallucinations and to the feeling of guilt. To him.
â
Steve was going to spend that night at the radio station again, alone. Robin had run off to the hospital (apparently, Vickie had another night shift), Nance tried to spend her free time with her family, maintaining the illusion of normality, and Jonathan never showed up at the Squawk without her. And Steve was fine with that â after all, the silence had its own charm.
â
Steve was almost asleep when a soft hissing sound made him open his eyes: someone was calling his name.
âWhatâŠ?â
A dark silhouette loomed over him.
âHey there,â the silhouette leaned over, and a shock of hair almost brushed Steve's hand, which lying on the blanket. âDid you miss me, Stevie?â
Steve tried to move away, but couldn't. His arms, legs â his whole body froze, refusing to obey his will.
A chuckle broke the silence.
âOh, Ste-eve. Are you scared?â
A dark figure with Eddie Munsonâs face looked down at him mockingly. Blood pounded wildly in his ears, and the inability to move even a finger rolled through his body like leaden panic. Eddie slowly moved closer, pressing his palms against Steve's chest. Instantly, it became difficult to breathe, as if his ribcage was pinned under a concrete slab. A fluffy lock of hair brushed his cheek, and the air in his lungs ran out. Eddie pressed down on Steve with all his weight.
Steve wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Eddie's eyes â alien, empty â were so close that Steve could see his reflection in them.
âPlease,â Steve said hoarsely. He couldn't even move his head to turn away from Eddie, he just squeezed his eyes shut until colored spots bloomed behind his lids.
âOh, now you don't wanna look at me,â Eddie drawled. âWhy's that, Steve? Do I scare you that much?â
Where Eddie's hair had been tickling his face, Steve suddenly felt something wet and cold.
âOr,â Eddie continued in a silky, unfamiliar voice, âam I not good enough for you, Steve?â
Steve had heard those words before, but each time they seemed to grow sharper, more piercing, squeezing his insides in a thorny vice. Eddie was good. Eddie deserved much, much more than being hounded by a pack of jocks, falsely accused of murder, and dying horribly in the teeth of beasts from someoneâs nightmare. And Steve couldn't stop thinking that Eddie hadn't gotten what he deserved because of him.
âNo⊠Eddie,â the musty smell of the Upside Down crept into his throat. Steve's eyes widened, revealing bitten cheeks, matted hair, and black, terrifyingly black eyes right in front of him. âIâŠâ
âWhy didn't you come?â Eddie whispered, his voice was full of melancholy.
âI wanted to come back for you, I swear,â Steve replied, repeating it to himself for the thousandth time. âIâd really like to make it, Eddie.â
Black eyes stared into him, as if the void were staring back. For so longâŠ
âEddie, please. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry,â Steve mouthed.
Please, believe me.
The void looked away: black eyes became his usual brown, the smell of the Upside Down, having left a scent deep in Steveâs lungs, receded, the cold and slimy feeling on his cheek became fluffy and ticklish again. Eddie blinked. Slowly, he pulled away and slid off the bed, keeping his gaze on Steve's face.
Steve finally breathed freely. He so desperately wanted to lift his hand and touch that fluffy hair with his fingertips, but by the time the numbness left his palm, Eddie had already jumped to his feet and ended up against the opposite wall.
The last thing Steve heard before Eddie disappeared from his life forever once again was a wistful:
One of the many ways that the Byler van scene is so powerful is that it is really the one and only scene in the entire show where anyone makes Mike feel truly loved and valued and cherished for exactly who he is.
Willâs gift and his words give Mike a level of support and understanding that nobody else ever gives him. El may save his life, but she never does anything like this for him. She never has any one-on-one moment of genuine connection with him where she shows that she gets what makes him tick. She doesnât even like D&D. (And thatâs not her fault; she just doesnât get him like Will does, since theyâre not compatible.)
That scene rightfully gets attention for what it means for Will, but letâs not forget what it means for Mike. That painting truly changes the way he sees himself. Itâs no exaggeration to say it changes his life.
Thatâs why the disappearance of the painting in s5 breaks the entire narrative and Mikeâs entire arc.
That painting is the key to Mikeâs soul, to all the parts of himself that he was taught to be ashamed of and try to outgrow. It is the appeal to Mikeâs inner child that the film/memory reel is to Willâs inner child. While being with El only makes him question and doubt himself, just one gift from Will completely validates his special interest and his quirks, and makes him feel like he is enough. It is completely and utterly nonsensical to compare this depth of understanding and this monumental sense of being seen to a hopeless hallway crush that one needs to just get over.
The Duffer Brothersâ double standards in the final season of Stranger Things are truly baffling.
You should love and accept yourself ⊠except if youâre a female victim of a cycle of abuse by men, in which case you must kill yourself.
You can find real lasting romantic love with someone you need and may freely admit you need ⊠unless youâre a woman who wants a career, in which case you must end up alone; unless youâre a housewife, in which case you must remain in your alcoholic depression; or unless youâre queer, in which case you only get self-love and bar flings.
You shouldnât look for answers in somebody else ⊠unless you get kissed by the first boy youâve ever met after spending all 12 years of your life as a lab experiment with no knowledge of the typical vocabulary of someone your age, in which case you must stay with him.
You shouldnât let shared trauma trap you in an incompatible relationship ⊠unless you steal your first kiss mere days after watching your best friendâs corpse get pulled from a lake, or unless you spend a year desperately stalking the only person whoâs ever been nice to you, in which case itâs true love.
You can find a new family after losing your first ⊠but only if you really learn your lesson by losing your second child as well.
I was inspired by this post, but I thought there might be other options for Game of Thrones byler!au
So, Will is one of the House Stark:
he likes the cold
his canon abilities are quite similar to those of wargs (people with the ability to enter the minds of animals and perceive the world through their senses and even control their actions), which are common among the Starks (in the books, all six of Ned Stark's children were wargs) and may be related to the powers of the Night King, like Will's abilities are linked to Vecna?
so Vecna ââcould be a version of the Night King, turning people into his soldiers and raising the dead (and Mind Flayer could be one of the old gods, or maybe even older... well, it's up to you-
Mike could be a knight of the House Baratheon:
his dark curly hair reminds me of Lyonel Baratheon
he has taken a heart as his personal sygil (just like Stannis Baratheon)
he and Will were raised together in the Vale of Arryn like Robert and Ned, but Michael fell in love not with William's sister, but with William himself-
other options for Mike: a knight who belongs to one of the Lordly Houses whose coats of arms have hearts (Staedmon, Corbray)
bonus: Mike the Brave, a knight of House Wylde (because that house's sygil is literally a blue swirl on a yellow background đâïž)
apart from will, i honestly think if anyone needed to hear robin's speech, it was jane.
"there was always this part of me that kind of scared me"
jane constantly views herself as a monster, and doesn't see herself as the same as other girls her age, although she desperately wants to. she knew she was different, and that scared her. she was scared of what she could do. and she was scared of who she was.
"but I thought that if [he] loved me, all of me, i wouldn't be so scared anymore."
jane has always seeked affirmation from mike because that's what she has been trained to do all her life. without validation from the men who raised her, she didn't know where to find her self worth. she saw no purpose in herself once she lost her powers, the one thing her father figure had hinged his affection on. which is why she was begging mike to tell her she was more than a superhero. that he loved her, after she had nothing more to give. and he couldn't.
"i was looking for answers in somebody else, but⊠i had all the answers. i just needed to stop being so goddamn scared."
jane needed to hear this more than anything. she needed to know that she didn't need to beg for scraps from men who didn't have it in them to love her like she needed to be loved. she needed to know she could find love and happiness in other places. and she needed to understand that she wasn't a monster.
"once I did that, oh, i felt so free. it's like i could fly."
and can you imagine, how we thought this line was a metaphor for will, but as the denouement of jane's arc to reclaiming her autonomy and becoming her own person, she was finally able to defeat vecna? because now, as owens said she needed to, she could do more than walk. she could do more than run. she could finally fly.
I think a lot about Eddie, who finally meets Will, takes him under his wing, gives Will more attention than he would expect from himself, tries to help Will figure yourself out, sharing the experience of being a freak and queer, growing up in that context and all that, and it's wonderful, yeah
but what about Will, who finally meets Eddie and tries to help him outlive Vecna's influence, sharing the experience of being with an indelible imprint that leaves the Upside Down, with fear that your loved ones can no longer trust you, that you canât trust yourself, because you were possessed once and now you always expect your mind to be taken over again?
OH GOD I need these two to interact, even if it's just in my silly fanfic
please tell me I'm not the only one who exists somewhere between steddie and byler?? do these two fandoms have any overlap?? because I definitely can't imagine writing steddie fics without byler and vice versa (I really love the idea of ââEddie and Will getting to know each other and becoming each other's support)
Eddie has long been accustomed to insults directed at him and mostly ignores it, especially after all the shit heâs been through on in the Upside Down. But he becomes incredibly aggressive towards anyone who tries to pick on Steve when they are seen together somewhere.
These are mostly the jocks from Jason's group who still can't forget about Eddie's existence and see Steve as a new target for bullying since Eddie stopped responding. Of course, no one knows that they are dating, but even just being around Eddie is a reason to pick on Steve.
So Eddie becomes an aggressive protector of Steve, in his own incomparable freakish way. Like, he barks loudly or imitates the sounds of a demogorgon (which is quite similar thanks to his experience as a dungeon master and his practice of growling and vocal skills). Or he portrays a possessed person, uttering curses in a low, creepy voice.
At first, Steve is scared when Eddie does this because he's used to the cute-weirdo-Eddie: gentle, funny, and sometimes even a little less loud than usual (an option available to Steve only). His-boyfriend-Eddie is never that mean and threatening towards him (or the kids; Steve even thinks Eddie could be stricter with them, but they both have a soft spot for the little shrimps). Frenetic freak Munson is something completely new to Steve, except for that time Eddie almost cut his neck with a broken bottle in the boathouse. And it's genuinely terrifying (the first couple of times Steve even flinches in surprise and almost clutches his heart).
Then Steve tries to explain to Eddie that he doesn't care what a bunch of morons think. Let them talk all the bullshit they want, as long as they don't try to âhunt the freakâ again. And Eddie's behavior, Steve thinks, could very well cause more problems (despite Hopper's best efforts to clear Eddie Munson's name from false accusations and ensure his safe life). In response, Eddie just snorts, reminds him of the restraining order issued to Jason and other jocks, and categorically declares that he wonât allow anyone in the world to say nasty things to his boyfriend.
No, you want Jane to survive so she can get married to Mike and live "happily ever after", I want Jane to survive because she was a victim abused most of her life and truly derserved to be a normal girl and live happily with her family and friends and truly find herself, just like she wanted without being forced into a toxic relationship, we are not the same.
how I see Steddie's dynamic in the fic I'm currently working on (the one with the Kas!Eddie theory):
Oh, golden boy, don't act like you were kind
<...>
Don't hold me like you know me
I would rather burn forever
But you should know that I died slow
Running through the halls of your haunted home
And the toughest part is that we both know
What happened to you
Why you're out on your own
Merry Christmas, please don't call
But what if I call
And you pick up the phone?
And I use this holiday to make my way to your ghost
Oh, what if you're lonely
And you know I am too?
And I get the chance to say
"Merry Christmas, I miss you"
I miss you
the first will be a short story about Steve's visions between seasons 4 and 5 (it's already close to completion)
and the second will be a long fic based on a theory about Kas!Eddie in season 5, and there will also be space for Byler (this fic will be released in parts, and there's still a lot of work to be done on it, I dunno how soon I can finish the first chapter...)
if anyone is interested in reading any of this, please let me knowâ
