I should probably introduce myself for real on here. I'm Sal, a 22 year old genderqueer lesbian. I've always had a tendency to Fixate and that Fixation turned to fanfiction pretty early on. I love to write and in the last few years, I've been extra motivated thanks to Stranger Things. I upload fics on my ao3, SalamanderGoo! I love rarepairs and polyam ships.
I also love Fandom Events and making friends! I can usually be found signing up for some event against my better judgement and lurking in discord servers. I like hurt/comfort and pwp (and p WITH p...), and recently I've been turned to IT (the novel, the 90s miniseries, AND the 2017/2019 movies, expect to see more fics for that soon.
If you're looking for some of my fics to check out, you can check my stwgdailyprompt tag for some short oneshots (don't be fooled, I sadly do not fill prompts with any pattern of frequency) (also check out the @strangerthingswritersguild it is very cool and fun). I've also linked a few below!
Kinktober 2024 Collection: 31 fics of varied length exploring different kinks, pairings, and dynamics. Not all are explicit, but the majority are.
Let's Leave Nothing Unsaid: A Stranger Things/Black Phone crossover featuring an alive Robin Arellano tracking down his best friend who vanished to a town called Hawkins.
Reuniting, Reconnecting, and Renewing Relationships: Written for a rare pair big bang event, Max finds herself back with her old friends for the first time since the summer of 1986. She's had little contact in the 7 years since and has to connect her memories with the people her friends have grown into.
Mistakes Were Made; We're Ending Retrograde: My first major undertaking in the Stranger Things fandom, written for the 2023 Steddie Big Bang, Steve comes to terms with the asshole he's been and learns to accept forgiveness (and falls in love along the way ofc).
Making Out While the World Collapses: A Rovickie fic where Vickie learns her crush is actually a badass (and also that Hawkins is a portal to another world full of monsters).
Massaging Inside and Out: Jonathan has chronic pain and his best friend offers to do something to help. Things escalate.
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the one with the flowers
title: where have all the flowers gone by Peter, Paul and Mary
back by unpopular demand, me 😈
I know that I said I would start posting after I had 15 chapters written, and you would never know if I didn't, but I'm tattling on myself and telling you I'm currently working on 11 and 12. But I literally cannot keep this to myself anymore. So, here we are! Welcome to The Harvest. Things will get better, someday.
Summary:
Daisy Mae Wilde is alone in the winter gray. With a fire in the hearth and snow falling outside, the only thing she can do is lay there and deal with the aftermath of the last nine months in the only way she knows how. Badly.
With Shane Cooper a million miles away in a facility desperately clinging to sobriety, she's left to shoulder the magical burden completely alone alongside mountain of secrets no one would understand and a new cocktail of medication to keep her sane. The only people she has to keep her afloat is a brother learning to cope with a life changing disability and his boyfriend dealing with parentification and a family on the verge of crumbling. At least the world didn't stop spinning in the bottom of the mines or on that cliffside.
They just don't know that there is a tiny consequence to their bad decisions and unhealthy coping mechanisms whether they get their shit together or not.
wc: 2306
ao3 link
sequel to The Valley
Zuzu City, before
Grief was a weird thing. Especially at 16 with too big emotions and no clue where to put any of it except down, down, down. Daisy Mae kind of expected that the sad, depressive grieving would be over by now. It had been two entire years since Mama died, after all. And Dad kept telling her that she needed to grow up and stop being sad all the time, so why did she still feel this way?
She was convinced that he just said that because he didn’t want to deal with her being sad anymore. The school counselor told her that grief was different for everyone, so that meant Daisy Mae’s grief was different from her father’s, right? She would never tell him that, though. He wouldn’t like that.
And she didn’t need any more bruises to hide from Ethan.
Sure, she was getting better at hiding bruises. But she wasn’t getting better at being 16. Especially because the bruises made being 16 a lot harder. She hated how one had become more important than the other. But her brother needed to be twelve more than she needed to be anything.
Speaking of her brother, he would be home from Gridball practice any minute and dinner needed to be done so they could eat and disappear upstairs before Dad got home. They’d both learned the hard way that being downstairs when Dad got home was a bad idea after Mommy died.
Daisy Mae didn’t know how to make complicated dinners. She wished she did, but Dad got rid of all of Mommy’s cookbooks after she died and Daisy knew better than to ask for things. So, despite the guilt gnawing at her ribs and her mind screaming at her that her growing younger brother deserved better meals, she did what she could.
Nan taught her how to make meatloaf when she was ten, just before she declined so rapidly that no one saw her death coming. Nan’s was objectively better, full of tomatoes and peppers and onions from the farm, always accompanied by a different side dish and roasted vegetables. All home grown and fresh from the meat and vegetables to the spices. At 16, Daisy dreamed of giving that to her brother.
Daisy knew better than to ask for things.
So, she settled on frozen ground beef and a bag of frozen vegetables and instant mashed potatoes. All of which was getting cold on their plates.
Ethan was late.
Ethan knew he couldn’t be late.
They had a routine. A solid routine that had been working for two years now and didn’t need to be diverted from. Ever. High school got done before middle school. Rehearsal got done before Gridball practice. Daisy made dinner still in her leotard and bun. They ate before Ethan changed out of his jersey. She rushed to get dishes done before Dad’s car could pull into the driveway and was up the stairs before he finished turning the lock on the door.
But Ethan was late and she wasn’t sure how she was going to get the dishes put away before the lock started to turn.
Just as she started to worry, chewing on her cuticles as she watched the time on the microwave tick, tick, tick five, ten, twelve minutes past the time Ethan should’ve been home, the front door slammed open. She jumped at the unexpected noise.
Their house wasn’t silent, per se, but it wasn’t ever loud in a good way.
Not in the way of music bleeding under doors or laughter carrying down the hallway or the particular chaos of a family that liked each other. It was loud in the way of slammed cabinets and raised voices and the specific, practiced silence that fell afterward—the kind that had too much weight to it for a sixteen year old to shoulder. The kind you learned to move carefully around.
Daisy was good at moving carefully.
Her brother, on the other hand, was not as graceful.
“Daisy!” Her brother’s voice echoed through the house, making her wince.
She squeezed her eyes shut, listening to him abandon his things on the stairs to take upstairs after dinner. Then, his footsteps. She only opened her eyes when she heard him standing in front of her.
He was smiling at her. The genuine one that made those big blue eyes sparkle and his entire face light up. And in his outstretched hand was… weeds? Dandelions, Daffodils, buttercups, thistles, white clovers, violets, wild daisies and something else she couldn’t identify were bundled together haphazardly in his mud stained fist.
“E, what…?” She began, genuinely confused as she stared at the weeds.
“They’re happy flowers!” He exclaimed, thrusting them towards her. “I picked them for you!”
Daisy stood from her spot at the table slowly, eyebrows knit together as her gaze didn’t leave the bundle. “E, they’re—” she cut herself off, not wanting to make him upset by calling them weeds.
She finally looked back up at her younger brother’s face. Still broken into that smile, looking at her with eyes full of hope. He was as tall as her now at twelve, a fact that kind of made her scared about how much taller he was going to get in the next few years. Now, he was all long limbs and sharp elbows and childlike wonder. A part of her never wanted that to end.
“In science, Mr K said that they’re technically weeds,” he explained, the words coming out rushed. “But, I think they’re pretty! And… and I thought that pretty things would make you happy.”
Daisy’s stomach dropped.
He was twelve and already too tall for it in a Gridball jersey that hung loosely off his torso, and here he was holding a fistful of wildflowers so aggressively that his knuckles had gone white. Not from a store. From the field behind the school, probably, the one with the broken fence that their dad had told them over and over again not to cut through. The stems were uneven and jagged. Two of them were already starting to wilt, probably something that began before even being picked.
She thought about telling him that some people considered wildflowers invasive. Ugly. That gardens didn’t always want them. That if you kept going in a place that didn’t want you in spite of everything else, it wasn’t the same thing as being okay. Exactly what their father would’ve done before telling him to throw them away and saying some… not nice things.
She didn’t tell him any of that.
If she were being honest, they were the most beautiful thing she’d seen in weeks.
“Thank you, bubba,” she said instead, tears burning behind her eyes as she reached out and took them from him.
Before she could think about what she was doing, she was pulling her little brother into a bone crushing hug. His curls were coarse and still damp from sweat. He was covered in dirt and whatever preteen boy grime he developed through the school day and after practice. Still, he hugged her back just as tightly and let her hold him for as long as she liked.
“I’m sorry I was late,” he mumbled against her shoulder.
“It’s okay, bubba,” she replied, squeezing him once more before releasing him. “Eat, please. Quick. And take a shower.”
She didn’t sit down when he did, instead venturing towards the cabinet and finding a glass to put the bouquet in. They lived on her bedside table long after they wilted.
Ten years later, grief was still weird. Sure, the grief over her mother had dulled into a constant ache that got easier to swallow, but it never fully disappeared. Its shape shifted into something more acceptable. Living alongside the grief of Pop and Nan and the unfair longing of what her father could’ve been.
She just never thought she’d grieve over a living person before.
She wasn’t sure if it ever stopped snowing during Winter in Pelican Town. A layer of white fluff painted the landscape outside of the living room window as far as the eye could see, falling at a steady rate since the first day of Winter came around. She was almost surprised they hadn’t been snowed in yet.
Not that it would’ve mattered for her. The last harvest of Fall happened a few weeks before Winter turned over, leaving Wilde Acres with the only chore of feeding the chickens and her new calves in the barn—something that Alex had asked to come by ti do every day for some extra cash.
She wasn’t arguing with that.
It gave her more time to lay in the same spot on the couch with Cheesy on her stomach and Goober between her legs as a holiday movie played on whatever that corny channel was called. She could never remember the name, but it was good entertainment when her thoughts felt too heavy and everything else was kind of numb.
The couch held things differently in the winter, it seemed.
She had a perfect view of the large bay window across the room, and a direct stream of heat from the fire in the hearth.
It held heat differently than it did in other seasons; slower to heat up, reluctant to let go of it once it had absorbed the persistent warmth. Daisy had been on it long enough to know this in her body, in the specific heaviness of her limbs and the way the throw blanket had shaped itself around her. She thought distantly that this was probably information she didn’t need to have. That knowing the winter specific thermal properties of your own couch meant you had been on it too long.
Still, she found herself here most hours of the day as life went on outside of her house.
How could she go on normally after… Well, everything?
Every once in a while, she got off the couch despite the displeased meow of the cat and the annoyed huff of the dog.
Not because she wanted to. Because her mouth was dry and her water glass was empty and her body was running on whatever passed for autopilot these days, that low hum of function, just function that got her from the bed to the couch to the kitchen and back again. She had been doing a lot of that lately. The bare minimum of existing. Water. Cereal sometimes. Going to visit chickens and the calves in the morning sometimes because they didn’t know she was falling apart and she didn’t want to be the reason they found out, either.
The farmhouse was gray with winter light. She moved through it without turning on any lamps.
Despite the gray of the house, she spotted the flowers on the counter as soon as she rounded the corner.
They were by the sink, in the tall glass she usually used for iced tea. Most importantly, they were wildflowers. Not from Pierre’s. Not the cultivated kind with even stems and a paper sleeve around them to make them look prettier than they were and more expensive than they were worth. They were the scrappy kind. The kind that grew at the edges of things, in the gaps between pavement and power lines, in fields with broken fences that you weren’t supposed to cut through.
In November. In Pelican Town. He had found them anyway.
She knew it was him before she saw the note. Knew it the way you know the sound of a specific set of footsteps on the stairs. The way you knew the curve of someone's handwriting from a distance. Or how you knew a laugh from a different room. She had been on the receiving end of this particular act of love for twenty two years and it still made her heart flutter in exactly the same way.
The note was propped against the glass, folded into a small origami heart. Her hands were steady when she picked it up. She didn’t know why that surprised her.
I got you happy flowers, it read. They keep growing in gardens even if people don’t want them to. I think they’re pretty anyway.
Love you, Daisy Mae. I mean it.
She stood in her dim kitchen in the gray winter light and read it twice. Then a third time. The handwriting was the same as it had always been—too big and too messy, maybe even messier now that he had to write with his left hand. He always wrote like he was in a hurry to get the words out before they got away.
Something in her chest did something complicated. That tiny flutter of joy that made her lungs clench and eyes burn. She wasn’t better in the slightest. Not even remotely fixed. But seen, maybe. That specific unbearable relief of someone knowing exactly where to find you even when you haven’t told them where you’ve gone.
She put the note back against the glass.
She filled her water.
She went back to the couch and the cat and the dog.
The flowers stayed on the counter where he’d left them. Outside the window Wilde Acres was cold and still. Somewhere out past the edge of the farm something small and stubborn was going on growing anyway. The way it always had. The way it always would. Whether anyone wanted it to or not.
She didn’t cry about it until she was in the shower that night, hot steam rolling down her back long after she finished washing her hair and her body. She let her forehead fall against the tile as the tears fell, pressing her lips together so the sobs didn’t echo off the walls.
She wanted to be okay. Yoba, she did. She just didn’t know how.
Victoria decides to get her nipples pierced for her 21st birthday, and she intends to send a picture to Santos, saying "See! Told you i would!" but accidentally sends it to McKay instead.
Cassie texts her back going "cute! I had mine done befofe I got pregnant :) "
And sends back an older photo of a young Cassie McKay, tits out, shiny little piercings on display with a flirty little smirk at the camera
Javadi gets so horny she almost passes out and forgets to be horribly embarrassed for a moment
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Will admitting to having a bit of a crush on Steve at times and Jonathan is just like, "Yeah. We all do. Do you have a crush on anyone you age? Can it not be Mike?"
And Will is just, "Can we circle back to 'we all have a crush on Steve?'"
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Back for another year! We are so excited for you all to join us for Stranger Things Kinktober 2026.
Posting information, FAQs, and a text version of the prompt list all available under the cut.
We'd be delighted to welcome new faces to the event so please give us a reblog, and share the link on other platforms, Discord servers, and with your friends.
You can find us @stkinktober on Bluesky.
POSTING INSTRUCTIONS
Accepting creations in the form of art, fanfiction, GIFs, edits, moodboards... whatever you're inspired to make!
Posting begins on 1st October 2026.
Do as many prompts as you are comfortable with. Combining prompts is allowed.
No minimum or maximum word count for fanfiction.
Your work can be posted to any platform you choose, but we would heavily encourage using AO3 where appropriate.
If posting to AO3, remember to add your works to our collection which we will open at the end of September.
We will comment a 🧡 emoji under works posted/cross-posted to Tumblr to let you know it's been added to the queue. Works on Bluesky will be reposted as and when we see them.
Remember to use hashtag #STKinktober26 and tag us on Tumblr and Bluesky!
Late submissions are allowed—we will leave the AO3 collection open until the end of 2026 (or longer... probably longer).
FAQ
Who can participate in this event?
Anyone 18+. Minors following the accounts will be soft-blocked.
What kind of content can I post?
Anything goes! We're not here to restrict creativity. Interpret the prompts however you see fit.
Please use appropriate ratings and warnings/tags, particularly for commonly triggering content.
AI-generated works are banned and will result in a block.
What ships can I post about?
This is an anti-censorship event, therefore any pairing is allowed, including polyships and genderbent characters. We also allow crossovers from other media, original characters, and 'x reader.'
What if I see something I dislike shared here?
As we are not excluding any kind of ship or content from the event regardless of our personal interests, it means not everything will be everyone's cup of tea.
Curate your space by utilising the block button, blacklisting, tag filtering on AO3, and scrolling past things you don't enjoy. Harassment of event participants will result in a block.
I don't understand what one of the prompts means? ):
No problem, friend. Send us an ask.
I have another question.
Keeping that curiosity door wide open! Send us an ask.
PROMPT LIST
Asphyxiation | Furries
Findom | Wax
Vore | Sexting/E-sex
Clowns | Primal Play
Spit Roast | Aliens
Dom Bottom/Sub Top | Fisting
Tit-fucking | Anal Hooks
Snuff | Bondage
Felching | Voyeurism
Oviposition | Milking
Sugar Parent | Collars
Watersports | Autofellatio
Sploshing | Harem
Brat Taming | Size Kink
Pegging | Mind Control
Intoxicated | Stuck & Fucked
Human Furniture | Breeding
Cock & Ball Torture | Edging
Eproctophilia | Strippers
Non-human Anatomy | Creampies
Sounding | Virginity
Manhandling | Shower Sex
Villain Fucker | Cockwarming
Stalker | Sensory Deprivation
Oral Fixation | Safe Words
Feminization | Overstimulation
Snowballing | Humiliation/Degradation
Hair-pulling | Incest
Omegaverse | Kink Discovery
Enemas | Pumping
Cowboys | Your Choice!
Run by:
Eve - AO3 | @ocalaghan | @cheugyphobeao3 | Bluesky
Ash - AO3 | @thesecynicaldoeeyes | Bluesky
my favourite part of Backrooms was when Phil showed Mary a photo of Clark on the cameras and you could see the big fuckass censor square over the Pirate
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
For the fourth year in a row now, it's time for Small Fandom Summer! Join me for Small Fandom Summer! It's real easy to play:
Make a fanwork for something that has fewer than 1000 English-language works on AO3
Post it to AO3
And then you've done it! You've made a thing and you've diversified the fandom ecosystem! You're basically a hero.
Q: The fandom I want to create for has more than 1000 English-language works on AO3, but the specific pairing I want to write for has fewer than that. Does that count?
A: Yes!
Q: What if it has more than 1000 English-language works on AO3, but, like, just barely?
A: Okay!
Q: What if it actually has a lot more than 1000 English-language works on AO3, but it still feels small?
A: Sure!
Q: What if I don't want to post it to AO3? What if I don't even have an AO3 account? Can I post it somewhere else?
A: Wherever!
Q: What if--
A: Just do a thing, friend. Make a thing. Share the thing. This is not meant to be restrictive; this is meant to be inspirational. Create the fanworks you want to see in the world. Make a stranger happy by appealing to their niche interests. Bring joy.
And if you want to give yourself some silly little Steam-like achievement badges to commemorate your accomplishments, well, you're in luck! I've made a bunch of them right here! You can grab the ones that apply to your work and paste them wherever you like and feel good about what you've done. Here's a few of my favorites:
So you see? This is meant to be silly and fun.
There's nowhere to sign up. There's nothing to commit to. There's zero pressure. You just do it if you do it, and don't if you don't. But if you do want to play (yay!), tag your stuff with #small fandom summer so we can all swoop in and appreciate everyone else's efforts.
Since some people have asked: There's now a Small Fandom Summer 2026 AO3 Collection! You can post your stuff right here! It's completely open and unmoderated, so if you think something goes there, well, go on and add it! Hopefully by the end of the summer, we'll have a nice little collection of stuff there.
And since some other people have asked: There's no start date for this, nor is this an end date. "Summer" in this context is an extremely arbitrary unit of measurement. I'm starting now because my personal summer runs from about mid-May to mid-August. Yours may vary.
I'm thrilled so many people have seemed excited about this! I hope it inspires the creation of a whole bunch of good stuff!
"character deserved better" (but they were never going to get it that's the stuff great tragedies are made of) vs "character deserved better" (but the writers really blew it)
