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@greatunironic / greatunironic.tumblr.com

writing blog for greatunironic || grey, she/her, currently into star wars + stranger things, recovering californian || prompts are dope, i don't care for these new nazis

it’s 2024, and on christmas day dustin’s eldest daughter hands him a stack of records. they’re used; he’d only asked for a new record player that year but dee wanted to do something more special than that.

“can you guess who they’re from?” she asks. dustin unties to bow, flips through the first couple records: waylon jennings, black sabbath, loretta lynn, springsteen, metallica. it’s a weird mix.

he shakes his head.

“they’re eddie’s,” says dee.

Hi 🤗

I just came across your fic 'the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you', thanks to the bluesky algorithm but I don't do well with sad / unhappy endings and there are no tags in the story to indicate anything I can go on. So.... I kinda wanna know if I would be okay reading it (as a notorious 'happy ending' craver) ?

Don't know if this has been asked before, if so, I'm sorry 😅

If you don't feel comfortable giving spoilers for your story, I understand too 🤗

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hi! i’m a little loopy on ye old cold meds so forgive me if this isn’t particularly coherent. but: for me this is a very “your mileage may vary” kind of story — i personally think it’s a happy ending that has sadness woven through it in a realistic way. it’s a story that deals with grief and life after a story ends and the passage of time. it’s a little “four weddings and a funeral”, it’s a little “the big chill”. it’s a little Scorsese’s george harrison doc. someone has cancer and that person does pass through the course of the story — but it’s not steve or eddie or any of the kids, and it’s pretty obvious from the beginning of the second chapter so if you feel like you need to bail out early you can! (it’s also not something that’s actively shown — there’s a joke about funeral requests in part three that i warn in the notes (though personally i think it’s very funny and spot on for that character) and the funeral itself at the beginning of part four is also warned for and skippable but most of the things dealing with it happen off screen and you just get love and grief and memories and someone at the end of their life trying to make sure their kids get their happy endings, despite themselves….)

but, again, i think it’s a happy story — just realistic. hope that helps!

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Reblogged

we shut ‘em up, and then we shut ‘em down  |  Explicit |  41k

Artist: @redlegumes

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to Art Coming Soon]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Corroded Coffin, Stranger Things Ensemble

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Street Racing, Enemies to Lovers, (Or Rather: Rivals to Lovers), Rivals With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Mutual Pining Even While Boning, Misunderstandings, Fast Cars, Dumb Boys, Car Chase, Injury, Service Top Eddie Munson, Beefcake Babygirl Steve Hours, Brat Steve Harrington, Shades of Power Bottom Steve Harrinton, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Car Sex, Hand Kink, Spit Kink, Panty Kink, Feminization, Oral Sex, Rough Sexm Semi-Public Sex, Injured Sex, Anal Sex

Trigger Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Keep reading below for a summary!

Anonymous asked:

Hiiii, I LOVED the first chapter of your big bang 😭❤️ do you have a posting schedule or just going on vibes with it? So excited for more!! 🥰🥰

yay!! i’m so glad folks are enjoying it — i’m planning on posting part two on wednesday + part three on saturday!!

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Reblogged

hello again! for those of you just tuning in, @greenlikethesea and i have an ongoing project wherein we write songs for every listed track title in the appendix of @greatunironic's epic Steddie fic "the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you." this one is inspired specifically by this companion piece to the fic, about writing the second album.

album art courtesy of @bienmoreau.

LYRICS:

“No heathens in a foxhole” but I’ve been to the trenches tell the snow-white flocks, “No heathens in a foxhole” So strike me from the Earth

They stole my name and my hometown Now I’m howling like a bloodhound Stole my name and my hometown The pains of this rebirth

No gods, no masters So we’re to blame for this disaster no gods no masters No promise, your next breath

No gods no masters No hope for greener pastures No gods no masters No promise, past your death

Used to make my altars but my whole body falters used to make my altars a peace that I can’t find

I don’t believe I’ll beat this Can’t outwit or cheat this I don’t believe I’ll beat this senseless, toothless, blind

No gods, no masters so scream it past the rafters no gods, no masters a breakdown, no breakthrough

No gods no masters so sing it louder, play it faster no gods no masters there’s no escape from you

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title: REAL HEAVY METAL SHIT summary: It’s 1990, and Ed Levy is (not) writing his sophomore album. (a most remarkable thing timestamp)

EXCERPT He’d been no one, then — less than no one, actually, when you got down to the brass fuckin’ tacks of it: he was a half fake boy, it felt like most days. He himself was real, alive, but that was just the blood in his veins, the breath in his lungs. Everything else? His name, his back story, the reasons why he came to Seattle from Pittsburgh? All carefully fabricated half-truths and government-approved tall tales. Eddie Munson had become, for better or worse, Ed Levy, a sleight of hand person.

He had a hard time reconciling that. He had a hard time accepting that this was his life, now, and that he was allowed to live it. Really, man, who’d’ve thought it? Certainly not the pearl clutching, bible-thumping, Abigail Williamses of Hawkins, who cast him as Goody Proctor in their own little fucked up, supernatural Crucible, you know? Not the people who had rolled their eyes at him, before, and started to cross the street to avoid him, after. Not even his own friends, his old band, who’d dropped him for their own safety — which! He got it! He did! Just — just hurt, you know? Anyway you cut it: it hurt.

title: REAL HEAVY METAL SHIT summary: It’s 1990, and Ed Levy is (not) writing his sophomore album. (a most remarkable thing timestamp)

EXCERPT He’d been no one, then — less than no one, actually, when you got down to the brass fuckin’ tacks of it: he was a half fake boy, it felt like most days. He himself was real, alive, but that was just the blood in his veins, the breath in his lungs. Everything else? His name, his back story, the reasons why he came to Seattle from Pittsburgh? All carefully fabricated half-truths and government-approved tall tales. Eddie Munson had become, for better or worse, Ed Levy, a sleight of hand person.

He had a hard time reconciling that. He had a hard time accepting that this was his life, now, and that he was allowed to live it. Really, man, who’d’ve thought it? Certainly not the pearl clutching, bible-thumping, Abigail Williamses of Hawkins, who cast him as Goody Proctor in their own little fucked up, supernatural Crucible, you know? Not the people who had rolled their eyes at him, before, and started to cross the street to avoid him, after. Not even his own friends, his old band, who’d dropped him for their own safety — which! He got it! He did! Just — just hurt, you know? Anyway you cut it: it hurt.

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