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ashes-writing · 2 years

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wild one pt four | stranger things ; g.emerson

tag list babes || req rules + fandoms/characters; reqs open hcs nsfw/sfw abcs || got a req or ? || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

one - two - three - can all be found by clicking. stranger things masterlist -that needs to be updated just a lil bit oopsie, that's here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

So this chapter kind of.. came out of several different ideas I had all at one time so I just combined them. I hope nobody wanted a really slow paced story because this one might not be that. Like I said yesterday, oops rip, this story has me in a chokehold rn. BUT.. i will be posting / updating other ones and uploading other content soon, I s2g. Also, the next chapter I'm seriously gonna try to do some of Gareth being a big brother bc I enjoy doing that.

I love you all so fucking much, you really don't know how much your interactions with my bullshit truly mean to me, I swear. You don't know how much the comments / reblogs and reblogs with tags / likes really do keep me motivated a lot of the time and I can't thank you enough. Thank you so so so so much.

SUMMARY;

-- cheerleaders and drummers don't mix... or do they?

PAIRING;

Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader, (beyond outfits / personality and having female parts currently and at birth, reader has no physical description)

Reader is a cheerleader / badgirl hybrid.. kinda?

WARNINGS;

Reader's car does do pretty well at throwing these two together here, swearing -lots of it, girls fighting / arguing + some really shitty takes on what's acceptable for reader to do as a cheerleader, it's hinted that reader has / does hitch rides now and then and all I can say is that it's the 80's and it was a different time / a small town.. Do not do this shit though it's dangerous, the world is definitely not the same as back then and I do not endorse hitchhiking. Mentions of an injury. Awkward flirting / little moments, if you squint, smoking -nicotine,rn and that's it.

TAGLIST;

@aurumbelis

@allelitesmut

@aries-arcade

@cole22ann

@ebonybloom

@heyaitsklaudia

@hcloangcls

@hoeshii

@icequeen1371

@krys-orion

@letsbedragonstogether

@louderfortheback

@musichealsscars

@secretsicanthideanymore

@scoobiessnacks

@thechoiceslookgrimm

@untitledarea - these are all the names on my stranger things taglist. if you'd like to be added, please click the link at the top of the post.

OTHER STUFF;

set in S4 but the Upside Down / Vecna / the other stuff and the deaths do not take place here. Gareth is 18 here, also. So is reader. This is slice of life -but I might take inspiration from some of the other parts of the show that happened (ie, the fight in Gareth's garage, maybe, idk yet.)

The loose timeline here is that this chapter is two/three days after the previous one. Oh and and.. my own bit of a turn on personally is in here. When a guy backs out a vehicle like this kinda.... iykyk.

The car absolutely won’t start. You’ve tried jumping it off, you’ve tried cranking it numerous times and nothing. You’ve threatened it, you’ve pleaded with it and still nothing…Not even the smallest hint of a sign of life from the engine. And any other day, this would be totally fine. But today is your fifth day of cheer camp and you woke up late to begin with.

You’re poking around under the hood and grumbling, with your dad’s wrench set open and sitting under the hood, one in your hand. Parts of you are just tempted to start wailing on the engine with the wrench in your hand, but you decide against it.

You’re already late enough. If you just go ahead and walk to Hawkins High now, you might not have to run until your legs fall off for the second day in a week. But you are your father’s daughter and you’re determined. This car is not going to best you.

You’re standing there with the wrench in your hand, raising swearing to an art form when a throat clears from nearby. When you go to look up, you hit your head against the raised hood and raise a hand, resting it against the top of your head.

Gareth Emerson is standing there, leaned against the streetlamp right beside your trailer. He nods to the car. “Something wrong?”

“This whole fucking car, basically. Having thoughts about just shoving it over the cliff up at the quarry.” you answer, dragging your hand against your forehead to wipe away sweat already starting to gather as you sit down the wrench and grumble to yourself that it’s totally fine, you never wanted to feel your legs again anyway.

Gareth doesn’t say anything, but he does chuckle to himself. You wander over to where he stands, leaning against the back of your car for a moment before hoisting yourself up to sit on it, packing the cigarettes you’d grabbed from beneath the hood and tearing the wrapper open with your teeth.

You hold out the pack to him and he takes one. You dig around until you find your red Zippo and flick it open, striking up a flame to light it. You slip off the hood and stop in front of him, lighting the cigarette between his lips. You put the lighter on the back of your car and exhale a plume of smoke as you lean back against it a little.

For a few seconds, neither of you really says anything.

“I should probably start walkin.” you say it with a laugh, “Because between the walk into town and the laps I’m going to be given for a second time this week, yeah… I’m gonna want to saw off my own legs.”

“I’m going that way.” it’s out before Gareth can stop it or take it back.

Your brow raises and you bite your lip, gazing at him. “It’s probably out of your way.”

“Just c’mon. So you’re not trying to hitch a ride again like I saw you doing outside Starcourt.”

And that damn tone. He says it so firmly. Blue eyes fixed on you expectantly. You can’t help but squirm a little as you feel your legs clench and your panties start to get just a little wet.

That fucking tone he's using on you, it’s a weakness you didn’t realize existed for you, it has to be because when you open your mouth with every intent to protest again -because you don’t want to further annoy him or anything like you seem to be so good at, instead of your usual resistance or the polite protest you intended, what comes out instead is a quietly uttered and softer spoken, “‘Kay.” as the bubble you’ve blown with the slice of gum you slipped into your mouth seconds ago pops loudly.. The answer you’ve just given him sounds more like Chrissy or Em than you and this has you blinking at yourself as you try to puzzle out where it came from exactly.

One of you has stepped closer to the other too, and you don’t remember moving at all. He makes himself taller and it feels like he could easily engulf you and you’re noticing how your forehead stops just above the center of his chest and this sends your mind racing. You’re trying to pull it together but nothing’s working because you’re too distracted by the scent of his shampoo, the way he keeps stepping closer, him, to really accomplish anything.

He reaches out before he can stop himself and he drags his hand across your forehead as he turns red in the face, flustered at the feel of your soft skin under his hand for a second time this week.

“You had grime on your forehead.” he clears his throat and then nods to his truck still sitting in Eddie’s yard. “C’mon. I was leaving anyway. I uh..” he raises a hand against the back of his head after thumping his cigarette into the middle of the rocky dirt road that leads into and out of Forest Hills and he stares at you a second or two, distracted, “I saw your hood raised.”

You swallow down a lump in your throat and again, you find yourself just full of compliance and it shocks you a little.

Chrissy and Em are the sweet little docile ones. They’re sugar, you’re spice. What you’re doing now isn’t what you’d normally do and the fact that somehow, you are, that has totally thrown you for a loop. He stops to glance back at you after realizing you’re still standing in place. “You comin?” he asks, a brow raised.

In that same tone. Firm.

Before he even realizes that he’s done it again, he’s said it just a little too firmly, a little too tense and he wants to kick himself because he doesn’t want you to think he hates you or anything and yet, every time he’s around you, he gets tense and it just happens. If it’s not his face, it’s obviously going to be the tone of his voice.

You’re walking over to his truck on autopilot and it registers that he’s done it a second time somehow around the same time your hand closes around a hot metal handle and you yank it away, hissing and shaking your hand, opening and closing it as you glance up and scowl at the bright blue sky overhead. “I miss the rain. And fall. I’d even be okay with snow right now.” you mumble, mostly to yourself and mostly because you’re still wrapping your head around what’s going on right now.

“Burn your hand?” he asks, gazing at the way you still have your hand against your chest while trying not to let his gaze linger a little too long or anything. You nod. “Yeah. It’s fine.” you shrug it off and get into his truck, settling into the passenger seat with your head leaned back against the headrest.

The truck starts and Gareth backs out of the driveway, not thinking about what he’s doing as he does it, slipping an arm across the seat so he can glance back instead of using the mirror. You’re trying not to stare or anything, but you can’t help it. A finger catches in the bottom of your left ponytail and you pop another gum bubble. He happens to glance right at you and you want the floorboards to open and suck you through, burning hot under his gaze. You’re quick to look down, staring intently at the short orange shorts you’re wearing for cheer camp with their green banding around the legs. Toying with the green strip quietly.

The tension is thick, it’s almost so that you can’t breathe. And it’s driving you crazy. The local rock station finally comes in clear enough that you hear one of your favorite Motorhead songs playing and you’re humming along, even thrashing your head around a little and you can feel the exact second his eyes fix on you beneath that one red light a block away from Hawkins High. He reaches out to lower the radio and you pop another bubble loudly. “Hey! Rude, I was listening to that.”

“You actually like this? It’s not just a defense mechanism?” Gareth questions, gazing across the seat at you, curious. He’d been wondering. He got the sense that maybe a third of the way you were was defense, it was posturing. The fact that you liked the same music only made that pesky little crush he’s been trying to fight off grow that much more.

You nod. Tense up a little, because you’re used to comments being made whenever you even hint you don’t like pop. Or pink. Or glittery and girly shit. What do people expect out of you? You were raised by a single father. The closest to a female influence in your life has been Angel, a bartender who works at the Hideout or Susan, your stepmother. You haven’t seen or heard from your actual mother since you were about two and you barely remember her. While other girls were playing dress up and dolls, you were fishing or playing by yourself in the woods near the trailer park. Out at dirt tracks with your dad when he worked in the pit for a year or two there or down at the Hideout watching your dad play in pool tournaments every weekend.

You don’t know any other way to be and you’re not interested in trying to figure one out, either.

Gareth would die before admitting it, but the little crush that’s been coming back lately grows even more. He studies you intently. “I thought you liked Cyndi Lauper though.” he laughs quietly.

“Nope. Untrue. False. I like one song only because it’s in that movie The Goonies. I also like Corey Feldman but that’s neither here nor there.” you’re rambling because you’re distracted. Staring. Thrown into a total uproar and it’s new to you. “What part of me looks like a lil pop princess anyway, huh?” you pout a little and he chuckles.

“Yeah. I guess you’ve got a point.” he answers, going quiet. Hawkins High and it’s football field comes into view and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Maybe I won’t strangle anybody today.” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Gareth hears you and before he can stop himself, he’s asking what is probably a really nosy question.

“If you hate it, why not quit?”

“Because if I quit, I’m trash and they win. I’m too petty for that.” you give him a little smirk as you reach for the handle in the door. You’re about to get out but Gareth grabs hold of your wrist gingerly to stop you. “Hey.” he speaks up. “Get a ride home. Don’t fuckin hitch.”

You let go of the door handle and lean across, fluffing his hair, sitting in the middle of the seat for a few seconds, close, but you wouldn’t mind being closer and you absolutely do not dare attempt it. You laugh and shake your head and you tell him “Relax! Even if I do, if anybody kidnaps me, they’ll bring me back in like… ten seconds.” you laugh again and go quiet when you see him giving you that warning look. You bite your lip and giggle. “You’re too easy to mess with. It was a joke, Gareth. I can call somebody or something. Or I’ll walk.”

“No. Get a ride. It’ll be hotter than this when you’re done here.”

And there he goes again with that firm tone. He wants to kick himself because one, he has no idea where it’s coming from and two, he’s pretty sure if you don’t think he hates or is annoyed by you now, the tone he’s used at least four times on you by now is gonna be what does it.

Your breath hangs in your throat and you nod. “Yeah, okay. Alright. I’ll get a ride.”

He seems to relax at hearing this and you fluff his hair one more time before crawling across the seat away from him and climbing out of the passenger door. You rush through the chain link gate and slip into the circle beside Emma and Chrissy.

“Did you just get out of Gareth Emerson’s truck?” Megan’s obnoxious when she asks, loud. Calling attention to both who you arrived with and the fact that you’re late. But she’s not done. “He’s a freak. We don’t mingle with them.”

You roll your eyes and you try to just ignore her. But she’s determined to keep going. “You looked a little too cozy too. You’re one of us. We have an image. Being seen with Gareth Emerson is an image problem. We don’t mingle with freaks.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time as your fist. You almost feel like you’ll have to sit on your hands to keep from just taking a swing. You raise a hand and rub the bridge of your nose. “One, he’s not a freak. Knock it the fuck off. Two, he gave me a lift because my car wouldn’t start.. Not that it’s any of your fucking business,” and you trail off, laughing. “I mingle with whoever I choose. You don’t own me. Got it?” you glance at her with a smirk, “Next time, keep your mouth shut until I tell you I want your opinion.”

The second that cheer camp is over for the day, you’re just ready to leave. You’re exhausted, your legs feel like they’ll fall off and they’re made of rubber because Megan blabbed to the coach about you being late and you’re covered in sweat. All you want to do is get home and shower.

You glance up at the road in front of Hawkins High and kick at gravel, grumbling to yourself. You wander over to the payphone and vending machines in front of the gym but about halfway across the lot, you spot Gareth’s truck sitting in the parking lot.

Emma nudges you. “Ooh la la.”

“He’s not here for me.”

“Why else would he be here, hm?”

“Hellfire? That game club… that’s it, yeah.” you mutter. Emma laughs, shaking her head no. “Sweetheart, there’s no way in hell they’re doing Hellfire meetings in this hellhole during the summer. They probably play at each other’s houses.”

You knit your brows together and mull it over. “The guidance counselor called him.”

“Yeah, if she wants to praise him for having good grades and perfect attendance, maybe.” Emma laughs as she shakes her head. You rub your forehead, wiping away sweat and grimacing because you’re practically soaked in sweat. You grumble quietly. “I’m telling you, he’s not here for me. I bet he’s not even in his truck. He probably ran into Jeff or Grant when they were done with band camp earlier and caught a ride. Yeah, that’s it. It has to be.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m telling you, he’s here for you.”

“And I’m telling you, he’s not.” you dig around in your pocket for the few dollars you’d shoved down into them earlier in the morning before leaving your trailer. You and Emma wander past Gareth’s truck and you happen to glance over and you see him sitting inside.

Ranting to himself, which makes Emma laugh and you stare a little bit, twisting the end of one of your half up and half down ponytails around your finger. She grabs your elbow and drags you over to the vending machine as she laughs. “The look on your face right now, oh my god.”

You flip her off and pout at her. “Oh fuck off.” you pop the tab on the soda you’ve gotten yourself when the machine finally spits it out. “I’m gonna go. Patrick should be out of that team meeting by now. I’ll call you tonight!” and Emma disappears, leaving you to stare intently at the road that runs in front of the two schools.

“He’s not here for me, there’s no fuckin way.” you tell yourself as you start to walk towards the road in front of the school. Every intention to walk home.

You’re just about to step onto the sidewalk when you feel someone grab your elbow from behind. You whirl around and find yourself looking up at Gareth.

You swallow hard and raise the soda can to your lips. “Hey.”

“Tell me you weren’t about to walk..Or hitchhike.” he’s stepping closer. Staring down at you, the way sweat makes your hair cling to your forehead. He knows he should probably step away, give you space, but he just can’t. Every time he’s tried, he only winds up stepping close all over again a second or two later.

You laugh softly and shrug, taking another sip. “If you don’t ask, I won’t tell.” you answer, gazing up at him as you tilt your head to one side just slightly. His eyes settle on the way this makes your hair fall to one side, exposing your neck. He grumbles to himself, you can’t really understand what he’s saying and honestly, you’re too busy staring too.

Which yes, you want to kick yourself for.

“C’mon. I’m going back to Munson’s anyway. Since Grant actually drove himself here today.”

You feel a little let down and you’re annoyed with yourself because of it. You’d tried to tell Emma that Gareth wasn’t here for you. You were right after all.

It was honestly kind of disappointing.

“It’s too hot to walk all the way back. Your legs have to be killing you anyway, I uh… Saw you running around the field when I pulled up again earlier.” he gives you a little smirk when he says it, chuckling quietly as he gazes down at you.

What he’s not saying is that one, he didn’t really have to pick Grant up because he knew damn well Grant drove himself to band camp, he always drives himself, and two, he may have gotten to the parking lot just in time to watch you when you were cheering.

He tried to resist the urge, but when you made the little joke about hitching a ride later or walking in the heat, he couldn’t get it out of his mind and he grumped around all damn morning until Jeff threw his keys at him and told him to just show up before he drove the rest of them crazy. Which of course, he tried to argue his way out of, but he found himself coming by anyway. Because he just couldn’t fight the urge to do it, no matter how hard he tried to do so.

You nod, popping another gum bubble. Laughing softly. “You saw that, huh?”

“What happened?” he asks as the two of you begin to walk down to the parking lot where his truck is waiting. You laugh and shrug. “Megan Connor and I had a teeny difference in opinion. Then she decided to be a fuckin tattletits and ratted me out for coming in late.”

“What about? The difference in opinion, I mean.” Gareth asks before he can stop himself. You swallow hard and shrug. “Just dumb stuff. I handled it.”

“Yeah, I can just imagine.” he mutters. You pretend to be upset, pouting up at him with big eyes and a finger wound in the end of your ponytail. “What the hell’s that mean, huh?”

Gareth laughs quietly and shrugs. “I’m starting to see exactly why people call you fireball or trouble instead of your name now. But it’s..” he wants to kick himself because it’s not an insult, it really isn’t, it’s actually one of the things he finds really hot about you now, “It’s not a bad thing. I mean it, okay?”

You’re staring at him just a little too hard. His cheeks are flushed. You shrug and give him one of your little grins. “It’s really not. Nobody hurts me anymore.” you admit, going quiet.

His truck comes into view and you stop on the passenger side. You lean against the door, gazing up at him. You spot Megan wandering past with Caroline Owens and Lynette Mercer and when Megan sees you both together, she gives you a disgusted look that has you grumbling under your breath, “Keep walkin. If you’re smart, you’ll keep walkin.”

Gareth glances back and chuckles. Catching the three girls glaring a hole through him and for some reason, it doesn’t bother him as bad as it normally would, he just rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to you. When you step even closer, a hand palm down against the front of his flannel shirt, he nearly chokes on air but he steps closer too, reaching an arm around you to feel around for the door handle.

Your breath hangs in your throat when you feel his hand against your exposed back.

Megan glares even harder and all you do is smirk at her calmly. “She thinks she’s gonna tell me what I can and can’t do. She’s wrong and an idiot.” you say it as you tear your eyes off of her and fix them on Gareth again. “I owe her one, she’s the whole reason my legs feel like jello right now.”

“Do you wanna sit?” Gareth laughs it out. “Didn’t you already have to run once this week?” he asks, gazing down at you. Gulping because it’s like that day in the pool when he got you out of the deep end all over again, body to body with you and it’s driving him a little crazier than he’d like to admit.

“Please?” you give him this cute little pleading look that he quickly realizes he is not as immune to as he thought up to this point. At least, not from you.

He opens the door and you climb into the truck, falling back against the seat. He laughs and starts the truck, slipping an arm across the back of your seat to back out again and you bite your lip as you watch him do it because there’s something hot about it. And the instant this crosses your mind, you’re trying not to actively think about it or anything.

When he glances over under the red light on the way out of town, you’ve got your head back against the seat with your eyes closed but you��re moving your fingers around to the beat of the song just barely heard through the static on the local station and humming along. He can’t help but smile a little. “Are you that tired?”

“Hm.” you mutter, opening your eyes. “I swear my coach actively tries to kill me.”

He snickers when you say it and you pout a little, reaching out to lightly swat at his upper arm. “Rude. It’s not funny.”

“Kinda is, when I’m at least halfway sure that you don’t try to avoid it.”

“Bite me.” you stick out your tongue at him.

He almost responds with something clever, something bold like “Where?”, but he keeps himself from doing it. The dirt road leading into the trailer park comes into view and you really don’t want the ride to end. But you know he’s probably had more than enough of you for one day, so you fluff his hair and thank him for the ride back and you get out of the truck, wandering up the front steps and into the house.

Max and her friend Eleven pop up out of seemingly nowhere and you jump a foot in the air, the floor rattling just a little as you do it. You pout at them both.

“He gave you two rides.”

“One of them was probably because he thought you were going to hitchhike..” Eleven says it and Max nudges her, shaking her head.

“Wait, huh? No, he was supposed to pick Grant up but he drove or something.” you laugh softly, making your way over to the old puke green fridge to open the door, digging around for a Tab, a Sprite, something. You find a strawberry yogurt and you begin opening drawers to try and find a spoon.

“Grant always drives. His mom gave him her old car.” Max is looking at you with a brow raised. Eleven giggles at the confused look on your face. You peel off the foil wrapper on the yogurt cup and pull yourself up on the counter to eat. “Okay, no.. But he told me specifically, out of his own mouth that he came to pick up Grant this time. And he realized Grant drove.”

Max laughs and nudges Eleven, nodding at you. “See? See how oblivious?”

“Hey!” you exclaim, laughing. “I’m not.”

“You are, oh my god!”

“Okay, fine.” you pop the spoon into your mouth, “Set me straight. I’m assuming whatever you know was overheard at some point while you were with Lucas.”

“Okay, so.. Y’know how they get together in Mike’s basement to play DnD on Saturdays, right?”

You nod.

“Today, Lucas did it at his house. In that old treehouse out back. And at some point, he walked over to Gareth’s house to get a rulebook or something because Mike was being an ass again,--” Max pauses to laugh when Eleven frowns and nudges her and then she continues, “And while he was there, he happened to overhear Gareth going on a tangent about how crazy it is for you to hitch rides or walk. How it was too hot and lately, people have gone missing because they hitchhiked.”

You bite your lip. Listening intently, but with everything your step sister tells you, you’re trying to prepare a counter argument as to why it can’t be so.

“Apparently, he drove the guys crazy enough that around lunch, Jeff threw him the keys to his truck and told him to come and get you and that would solve all of his worrying and ranting.”

You nearly choke on the bite of yogurt you’ve just taken. “Wait.. huh?”

“He wasn’t ever there for Grant to begin with, Grant was with him the whole time. Will said the band director called it today because it got hot enough that one of the other freshmen in percussion just dropped on the field.”

“Okay, so he was just being nice.”

“Ugh! Seriously?” Max throws up her hands and Eleven laughs. “You were right, Max. She is oblivious.”

“No, I’m not. He’s just… he’s sweet, okay? That’s it. That’s all.” you insist, popping the spoon back into your mouth. Licking it clean as you swing your bare feet against the counter below where you sit.

“Okay, what about the drowning incident, hm? Explain how that jerk Andy was literally right there and yet, Gareth, who was at least halfway across the pool, got to you when you screamed like a banshee.”

“How’d you..”

“You’re loud. The walls are thin. I heard you when you were talking to Emma about the way his hands felt.”

You groan. “Kid, you have got to stop listening through walls and doors.”

“No, actually, I don’t. You need to learn the difference between indoor and outdoor voice if you don’t want your stepsister to know that you think some guy’s hands feel amazing.”

“Jesus christ.” you laugh out, shaking your head. Stealing a look through the window facing Eddie Munson’s trailer. They were all out on the lawn now, passing around a cigarette.

When Gareth happened to glance right at the window you were staring in, you quickly step away, flatten yourself against the walls and laugh at how stupid you are to do it to begin with.

The dryer buzzing loudly drew you out of your little daze as you tried to both process what Max was suggesting and convince yourself that somehow, you were right and she was wrong. “Did you do laundry?”

“Eddie had to put a load on.” Max goes over and heaps the clothes into a basket that’s falling apart and is literally being held together by duct tape and hope and after she’s done this, she shoves the basket at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Go.”

“Maybe he’ll come get it.”

“Go, oh my god.” Max shoves you at the front door and you grumble, but you take a deep breath and step out. Walking across the hot dirt road barefoot. About halfway across, you feel something stab against the bottom of your foot and you put the basket down, picking up your foot.

It’s a little shard of glass.

You pick the basket back up and make your way over, knocking on the trailer door because Eddie and the others have all gone in by now.

Eddie throws open the door and you hold up the basket to him. Then you sit down in the doorway and lift your foot. “Damn it, ouch. Somebody’s gotta tell Dale and those other idiots to stop throwing their bottles out on the road.”

“Maybe if you wore shoes instead of walking everywhere barefoot, fireball.”

“Oh fuck you, Munson.” you grumble as your tongue settles between your lips and you try to pinch and push to get the little glass shard out of your foot.

“If you come inside, you can probably see better..”

“I’m fine, thanks.” you mumble, glancing up to bite your lip because you wind up locking eyes with Gareth, who was watching you with a raised brow. When he wanders over and nods to your foot you manage a sheepish, “Glass?” with a shrug before calling out to Eddie, “Still have that needle you borrowed to sew a patch on your vest, dude?”

Gareth sits down next to you. “Let me guess. You were barefoot.”

“Mhm.” you answer as he takes your foot into his lap and chuckles quietly. “I could’ve got it. Just needed a needle.”

What you’re not saying is you are a huge baby when it comes to pain. And you’re so used to patching yourself up it feels a little… strange to have someone else do it at this point. Eddie comes back out with the sewing needle you loaned him.

You go to reach for it but Gareth gets it. “It’s fine.”

“Just be still.”

“Gareth, it’s fine. Really.” you gasp when the needle’s sharp tip scrapes right against the tender skin that the little sliver is lodged below.

And you’re trying not to look like a giant baby or anything, but you can’t be still.

Gareth glances up at you and you try to go still. He ducks his head again, brows knit. Tongue jutting out between his lips as he focuses on getting the glass out more carefully.

You let your head fall back and tense up. “Ouch! Hey, can’t you do it less poke-y?” you whine.

“Sorry.” he mutters, glancing over at you. “Close your eyes and count to three, alright?”

“That’s not gonna–” you trail off with your argument because he’s giving you that look again. You wind up closing your eyes and doing what he says and he laughs. “Got it.” he holds the tip of one of his fingers out to you to show you the tiny shard of glass he’s worked out with the needle a few seconds later.

You swallow hard and nod. Eventually removing your foot from his lap and leaning in just a little to fluff his hair again. “Thank you.”

Before he can respond in any way, you’re about halfway back across the road again.

And inside the living room, Eddie, Grant and Jeff are doubled over, nearly shaking in laughter. As their laughter dies, he gazes at Gareth.

“How’d you do that?” Eddie questions.

“What?” Gareth has a blank look as he stares up at Eddie, standing in the middle of the living room.

“You looked at her and she didn’t argue. Pretty sure her dad would like to know that one, buddy, because when those two get started, holy shit..” Eddie is amused. Studying Gareth intently as he rubs his chin. He has his suspicions but somehow, he doubts Gareth would believe him if he said them out loud.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x reader imagine #gareth emerson x fem!reader imagine #// reader is a little handful here.#// oopsie daisy

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evilvarric666-archive · 3 years

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This is gonna be long, so sorry in advance, but as someone who enjoys long fics here are my two cents:

I get why some ppl may not want 75 tags in fics, but this is gonna hurt long fic writers. On a long fic there are probably gonna be more relationships that are central to the plot that aren't the main ship. And side pairings that may be a squick to some ppl. Not to mention trigger warnings and tone tags.

For example: a long fic with the pairing Y x Z. Z had an abusive relationship, and that's gonna be explored. So the author tags abusive relationship, bc that's a trigger, but an explanation next tag saying "not current ship" or smth.

Then Y has very important friendships with some of the cast. These are central to the plot so they're tagged too.

Turns out, character W is controversial in the fandom, but they're central to the fic too. The author is gonna tag after the character tag W positive/negative; so ppl who don't wanna see positive/negative things about W can skip this.

And guess what? Ship A x B appears in this fic too. Maybe it's not that central, but this ship is also disliked by some people, so the author will tag it, so ppl can filter through.

Another problem is with media that has different mediums, like, the media Y, Z, etc are from has movies, and books, and games and a tv show. All these things actually have different stories, different enough at least that ppl may only want to see fics written for the movies! But the author wants to take plot from the movies and the books. So instead of just tagging the all media tag for that media, they also tag media (movies) and media (books)

These tags end up accumulating. And especially in long fics. The author could make the first chapter a list of tws and stuff that they keep updating, but that destroys the purpose of ao3 tags: you can't filter content like that, you can only filter tags.

I honestly think they should just find a way to delete the fics with the trolling tags, or make a readmore thing so it doesn't hurt the browsing. At the very least make the tag limit longer.

sorry in advance that this is going to be rambly and weird. I have a lot of thoughts.

I get where you're coming from but I also still disagree. Like it's definitely going to change the way longfic writers tag, but I really don't think it's going to hurt them. I think it's going to encourage more effective tagging and that that's going to be better for everybody in the long run. If anything, I think that overtagging is what's hurting longfic writers, it makes their works look unappealing, and actually important information gets buried in a wall of text.

i will admit though that I do understand better now why less room for trigger tagging is going to be an issue. My preferred tagging style is "General/umbrella warnings in the tags, with whatever elaboration/specifics the author deems necessary in an author's note/author's notes at the beginning of each chapter" (example: "animal death" in the tags, so that the filters catch it + people who can't handle the subject At All know to keep scrolling, and then the author's note specifying that its in the context of game hunting & not a pet death, so that people who were uncertain and needed more info could click in and get the specifics.) and I thought that preference was pretty universal? But apparently a lot of people use the tags as an exhaustive list of warnings, which I didn't know because when I see a work with more than, well with more than 75 tags, I just start scrolling until it's gone.

(this is a tangent and I get that my experiences are not universal. but I genuinely dislike full warning lists in the tags because, for me at least, it makes it harder for me to figure out if the story is something I can/want to read. The things I Really Do Not Want To Read about are rare, and rarely tagged the same way twice, so the exclusion filter isn't really helpful for me. I have to actually read the full list of warnings and if the things I'm looking for are sandwiched inbetween a bunch of trope/character tags in a big wall o text I am going to miss it. This has happened to me multiple times.)

I think that that's an ineffective tagging style, basically. Lots of tags is kind of the opposite of useful tags, imo. Short, to the point and consistently worded warnings are better and I think having less space will encourage people to do that. I understand why people do this other style, though, and also why it would frustrate them that they can no longer do that. I think it really sucks that ao3 let everyone wild west their website for so long that it managed to spawn like three distinct groups of people who all use the website in completely incompatible ways, and now it's at the point where any new rule implemented is going to screw a lot of people over no matter what. But I digress.

Anyways, as long as someone isn't putting Revolutionary Girl Utena levels of warnings in their tags (and if your fic needs that much... maybe you should just put yur top 10 biggest warnings on there and slap a Dead Dove Do Not Eat on the end there, yknow?), I think that 75 tags will fully accommodate them. I get that tags start adding up, but also I think a lot of people are underestimating how many tags 75 tags is.

Like to just add up how many tags are used in your example: three / pairing tags, lets go crazy and say three more & pairing tags, tag every character tag in those pairings that's twelve, #abusive relationship + #not main pairing tags, three fandom tags bc multiple source mediums, a #[controversial character] positive tag... that's 24 tags. Like all the necessary character & pairing tags are handled in less than a third of the space given (and personally I consider this slightly over tagged. I think the only character tags you should put on a fic are the very mainest/pov characters, but yknow) and honestly if you can't then figure out a way to communicate the rest of the necessary information about your fic in 51 tags and a 1250 character summary then I really don't know how to help you. I personally would have to really push myself to figure out how to put more than 75 tags on one fic, regardless of the length of the fic. And I can't help but notice that a lot of the fics I could find with over 75 tags while searching last night had a lot of... unnecessary duplicate tags, often for information that could've been easily otherwise intuited (tagging #mandolorian #mandolore #mandolorian character and #mandolorian culture on a Jango Fett pre-series fic, for example)

I do have some criticisms about the current change though. I think it would've been better to have individual tag number limits for each individual field (x number of fandom tags, x number of character tags, etc.) instead of a 75 tags over all limit (or make a "warning tags" field that's separate from "additional tags" but that's a separate essay and would... probably mean overhauling the whole site. so not very practical.) A readmore option would be good too, and I'm not sure why they didn't go for that? I also think that this change will be most effective if done in combination with other changes. Like posting very loosely or not at all enforced official tagging/style guides for the site. I really think that even a tepid attempt at standardization will increase the site's usability like, A Lot.

I'm not sure how cohesive that was. TL;DR I appreciate hearing your thoughts, mine are that I still think this is a step in the right direction. And that cutting back on overtagging will lead to more concise, effective tagging which will make browsing and filtering easier in the long run.

#ao3 tag

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