#(jonathan is supposed to be gone. but of course the lock also would give her extra time to put it away if he came home unexpectedly early)

[vickyvicarious]

My household work is done, so I shall take his foreign journal, and lock myself up in my room and read it....

Mina likes to take action. And while she didn't read the journal yesterday despite resolving to, I think that was down to needing to be with Jonathan to care for him, and also being hit with the news about Lucy. Still, she doesn't lose herself in her grief over her friend today, in what I think is at least partly because there's nothing she can do about it. She can't even go to her funeral, because she missed that. So, instead, she busies herself about the house, and then tries to learn what she can to help Jonathan. He's still here, after all.

He's the only one still here.

[envihellbender]

Lonnie Byers kidnaps and murders Jonathan Byers.

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Lonnie Byers, Jonathan Byers

Content: dead dove, character death, blood, gore, parental abuse

Summary: Jonathan just wanted to protect his mom, but a meeting with his dad went even worse than he could’ve imagined.

—

Jonathan knew where he was when he awoke, but he desperately hoped it was nightmare. The springs poking into his back, the throbbing pain in his temples, and the damp, rotten smell all told him one thing. The old basement in the falling apart house he’d once lived in with his dad. The mattress in the corner, a bucket nearby to piss and shit in, and a bowl near the door that got filled with food. Jonathan felt oddly like he had come home, he used to get locked in here every few weeks. Will only once, which had been what pushed their mom to leave him. Jonathan tried not to think about why he didn’t get the same treatment. He heard the rats scurrying, making hissing noises to each other over territory. He opened his eyes and turned to a dark, shadowy corner where he assumed they gathered.

“Hey guys, it’s been a while,” he called out, giving a small humourless laugh. He felt panic twisting and growing in his chest which he tried to suppress. He swallowed and tried to wrap his arms around his body. Instead however he gasped in pain as he was surprised by a clinking chain and a sharp stab in his wrist. He looked down, scarcely believing it. His eyes followed the rusty chain to the far wall. Seems his bed was the furthest it would go. He scrambled to his feet, and as he stood realised how much his body ached. His shackled wrist and head of course, but also his back, and limbs. As well as nausea so intense he wanted to sit back down to stop the room spinning.

Jonathan took a few deep breaths as he paced, the rats scurrying back into the walls. He thought about how lucky he was they hadn’t bit him, he supposed they weren’t used to him any more. He tried to think about the last thing he remembered, he knew he’d been drugged. His dad used to do it so often and he got the same sort of hangover every time. He remembered coming back from his summer job at the paper, and there was … There was a letter. He saw it on the doormat and recognised his dad’s handwriting instantly. Did it have his name on it? No. It was his mom’s. He wanted to meet her, and Jonathan showed up instead, he wanted to protect his mom.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jonathan muttered to himself as he paced as much as the chain would allow him. So his dad was planning on drugging his mom, but settled with Jonathan instead. Was that better? He wasn’t sure. He should’ve just thrown it away or burnt it. He should not have gone to the dinner date.

BANG BANG BANG

Jonathan stopped pacing and looked at the stairs, the rotting wooden stairs that led to the old door with paint pealing from the panels. The one that his dad put six different locks on when Jonathan found out how to open it from the inside. His dad always made such a racket, his footsteps like loud bangs and the way he opened each heavy iron lock. He stayed stood, staring as his dad appeared, he was dressed in a white vest and wearing jeans. His beer belly had gotten so bad it bulged under his vest and over his tattered, worn trousers. He was hairier than Jonathan remembered, sweatier, and filthier. He drank of stale beer and a sour odour like he hadn’t bathed since his mom left him. There he was in all his glory, the disgusting Lonnie Byers.

“Hey there, Johnny,” Lonnie slurred, his eyes half lidded and his yellowing teeth visible between his thin lips.

“Dad. You can’t- I’m eighteen now. Not a kid. This is- mom will get Hopper-”

“You think I’m scared of that fat old asshole she’s fucking?” He interrupted. His footsteps down the old stairs were so heavy Jonathan thought they’d give way any second. When he stopped and faced Jonathan properly he saw Lonnie was holding a metal crowbar in one hand.

“I- Dad- what’s-” Jonathan stammered as his eyes got wider and his body began to shake.

“It’s a crowbar, Johnny,” Lonnie snapped. “What? You still got shit for brains? I heard you were a big time reporter now?”

“A- I’m a photographer.” Jonathan felt his cheeks burn under his dad’s gaze.

“Your mom found a new dad for you, huh? But she such a whore she didn’t even marry him?” Lonnie goaded as he closed the distance between them. Jonathan let his anger get the best of him and bounded forward ready to fight.

“Don’t talk about my mom like that.”

“It’s what she is. Little whore who took my boys away. Made one of my boys a prissy little fag-” Jonathan got close enough to throw a punch, but the chain caught him when Lonnie took a step back. Jonathan stumbled but he never got back up. As he fell a heavy, metal bar hitting the back of his neck with a sickening crack. “You think you can take me, Johnny?” Lonnie asked before he hit him again and again and again, blood coating the bar, and splashing out over his clothes and gut. The rats began scurrying as Lonnie beat Jonathan harder. He didn’t stop until Jonathan’s face was completely crushed, an unrecognisable pile of blood, flesh, viscera, brains, and shards of bone. He’d deliberately left Jonathan’s torso and legs in tact. He giggled to himself deliriously as he nudged Jonathan’s body causing his head to stay in place and snap from his body.

“Oh, I’m going to have some fun with you,” Lonnie muttered, laughing and hiccuping as he did.

[newtonsheffield]

I'm absolutely in loveeeeeeee w the latest pictures of the Bridgerton cast at the Wimbledon.

Specifically the picture of Simone and Jonathan

It has a very Kate and Anthony vibe to it!

Could you please tell us how all of this went down in the BSCU?

Anon asked: gah have you seen the pics of Simone, Jonny and Nicola at Wimbledon?? any chance we can get some headcanons of that??

Anon asked: After yesterday’s amazing photos of Wimbledon - Jonny and Simone looked incredible 😍🔥 (and Nicola of course) any chance of a little snippet?

Okay! Okay! Jonny, Simone, love and adore you, your very close height match is sending me, I cannot it's too cute. Also Jonathan, Sir, no one is supposed to look so good in a linen suit. Bloody Red card! It's not fair!

Kate hadn't gone with him the first year they were together. They'd been together not very long, and they both agreed that this was too public and event to go to without it being some kind of comment on their relationship. Not that Anthony hadn't tried. "I'm sure you could go with Edwina! She must be able to get tickets, and we could just be there together... separately." Kate had laughed, and rolled her eyes at her very cute new boyfriend who was giving her a very good attempt at Puppy dog eyes from his position with his chin on her stomach. "And you'd be able to see me, in a nice dress and not touch? That would be okay with you?" Anthony's brow furrowed for a second before he said "Well alright then, you better not come."

And maybe it was something she should have realised, but she didn't realise that the Bridgertons went to Wimbledon every year until Anthony said "We're going to go to Wimbledon on the 5th this year is that alright?" and she'd stilled, her head shooting up from the book she'd been reading. Anthony's brow furrowed. "Do you have something on? It's just... if you do it's not on our joint calendar." He looked so puzzled, so confused, as though he was missing something though Kate had the nagging feeling that she was. "I just... I didn't know we were going to Wimbledon." She said quietly, and Anthony's eyes had widened, nervous suddenly. "Oh! You don't... I usually take my Mum and Ben is a huge tennis fan so we usually... you don't have to come if you don't want to." and really, though Kate knew absolutely nothing about tennis she found herself smiling. "I should have known you were a Wimbledon family is all, that's something the fantastically wealthy do isn't it?" Anthony rolled her eyes as she continued "i'll have to have my maid set out my diamond parure for the event." and as he waved her off and stalked from the room she could have sworn he muttered "If I have my way you'll be fantastically wealthy soon enough Mrs Bridgerton."

And really, when he stood in their bedroom and she tied his tie, and buttoned his linen waistcoat, saying There so handsome. Before she kissed his forehead, just like she did every day, her heart fluttered anyway. Fluttered when they stood with his family, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, as he whispered You look really beautiful today, Katie in her ear. But even so it was hard not to feel just a little out of place amongst England's elite. As if she'd somehow wandered in accidentally, and soon someone would realise and she'd be shown the door. Instead she listened again and again as Anthony introduced her to people he knew with "Now, I don't think you've met my beautiful girlfriend Kate before have you?" And Violet tugged her over to meet some of her friends with "Now this is Kate, and she puts up with Anthony and so for that we're really very thankful. He's a sweet boy but he really is a handful." And Benedict sat and explained between polite applause and the occasional curse why really, this man shouldn't be winning this match at all. And well... Colin was a little too busy pretending not to stare at Penelope Featherington to pay attention to her.

"It's a really very good thing you didn't come last year." Anthony whispered in her ear after they'd had their picture taken for the hundredth time today. "Because if you looked like this I definitely would not have been able to keep my hands off you." Silence stretched between them for a moment, their eyes locked together "Kate I-" And for the barest second Kate wondered if she was finally about to see what was in the box hidden between all of his sweaters. "Kate I really really love you." And Kate tried not to feel disappointed, tried to tell herself she wouldn't have wanted it to happen here anyway as she said "i love you too." And when their lips touch he tastes likes strawberries and cream and she suddenly feels a little stupid fr having denied herself this lsst year.

And the next day when she looks in the newspaper and sees the picture of her and Anthony with Penelope, Anthony looking unbearably handsome in his suit, his arm around her, perhaps it's wishful thinking but she can't help but think how right they look together.

[kaypeace21]

DID theory part 3: St novels/comics/spotify list analyses

*read part 2  of DID theory-first! You’ll be lost otherwise, seriously XD. First, I’ll say -I find the ST comics/ books as canon as the st movie inspirations . I don’t consider the books/comics ‘literal canon’ (cause they contradict the show ( like Max and billy meeting a year before s2  in runaway max - but meeting as little kids in s3,  or El’s age being wrong in suspicious minds, in the d&D comic Will’s friends instead of him /Jonathan building castle byers, etc) . 

So I think we shouldn’t take it  literally - but more like the st movie lists - filled with foreshadowing/symbolism and other eastereggs (That the Duffers may have told them to add). So here’s some more (possible) alter / DID hints...

‘Suspicious minds’ novel

- Brenner  equates k*lling rabbits to h*rting kids. And he’ll hurt (kid) Kali (the bunny in the analogy) if Terry tries running away from him . I wonder if Lonnie used a similar threat against jonathan? Jon could be giving only a partial truth to why he cried for a week (about the bunny story)?

-Kali “hops” like a bunny then talks about tigers obsessively (linking her to rabbits/tigers similar to the other alters/Will/Lonnie). Terry also imagines tigers and kali says to Alice they can all be tigers together.

- one of the only male psychic experiments (who can see the future) is gay

- Terry is into lord of the rings, like Will. Has her and her boyfriend dress as sam & frodo (m/m ship). Terry calls her and her friends “the fellowship”.

-when Terry/Alice were injected with d**gs -they hallucinated rainbows.yikes.

- Alice (like Lonnie) is a car mechanic. She can see the future like Will the wise and says “monsters of course my mind has them as long as they stayed in there, everything would be alright? Wouldn’t it?” (in her visions she saw the demogorgan).

 (completed) graphic ST novels (by Jody Hozer) so far  (+ other st comics).

*Jody Hozer writes all the graphic novels (every novel is 4 chapters each) - the will byers comic, number 6 comic , into the fire comic, and at the moment she’s writing the d&d series and the summer camp series (which isn’t done yet). Then there’s the occasional 1 chapter st comics not written by her.

- Number 6 has (the ability to foresee the future like Will the wise/Alice) and has an ab*sive dad. 

When having a nightmare of the demogorgan ...she says as she wakes up “screw you dad” (another hint the demogrgan -aka in d&d means ‘deep father’ ...is Lonnie).

- when number 6 and others run they say they’re’ “rabbiting”(which yes technically makes sense but I found such an uncommon phrase odd.)

- The (summer camp and d&d graphic novels aren’t completed yet) but they establish d&d creatures are based off  real life people the boys don’t like in real life. Or that d&d is used as an outlet to explain true events from their pasts -but they just give the true stories a d&d fantasy slant.

- Which brings me to the halloween oneshot(not by Hozer),taking place before s1. Will tells a scary story told to him by Jonathan, and originally told to him by Lonnie. Says the boys have to keep it a secret cause it was something he was never supposed to tell to anyone. Mike says he has to finish the story he started. It’s about a “ch*lld-eater” monster first attacking a boy near the quarry (like where Will was found) and  attacking kids in a library (where Will was also found in s1).When the child sees the sheriff she bangs on the library door begging for help-he ignores her , walks away, and tells the other cops to never speak of what they saw as she screams for help. Because the previous sheriff was in kahoots with the monster. It def had some ... uh questionable imagery too 0_0

The vine in the mouth is also like the one in Will’s mouth (when Joyce found him in the library).And of course Dustin asks whether or not something like that could be covered up.

- In the “bully  comic” (about troy) also not by Jody. We focus on Troy and his ab*sive dad (who encourages him to fight/ditch his best friend). The dad has a drinking problem (gets fired), calls Troy a “mess” , pushes him, and constantly encourages Troy to be vi*lent/macho. He pretty much tries sabotaging the relationship Troy has with his friend (which I could see Lonnie doing in the future with byler).The dad/troy is framed similarly to when Billy gives Max a ride home-  after both ab*sers give bad advice saying not to hang out with their friend (after witnessing them fight in the school parking lot). Dad also laughs about almost k*lling a squirrel (a trait we see troy mimic)- and we see El feel guilty about k*lling a squirrel in s2. At the end of the comic- Troy (like Will) after making up with his bff james- moves leaving his best friend behind.

-  (into the fire) Twins: (one was normal with no powers living in the real world and the twin with fire powers is trapped in a dark sunless “cold” world styled like a psych facility/medieval fantasy) . pics in link.She hated her reflection cause it reminded her of being betrayed by her normal non powered twin who left her behind in the ‘cold’ place. She’d call herself a ‘hunter’ who would defend herself and attack others to never be hurt again. Her powers being unleashed were described like opening “a door.” And she loves her twin deep down and just wants friends . And fire twin goes to the “other side” to reunite with her reflection and find happiness in the real world. *also there’s sunflower/bunny symbols which she lights on fire-which can relate back to Will/Terry/Lonnie etc. The twins = Will & Will the wise (mf)

Mirrors also connect to Will and Will the wise via the canon spotify playlists too.

Will playlist (song: mirror in the bathroom)-Mirror in the bathroom Please talk free.The door is locked -Just you and me.Mirror in the bathroom recompense for all my crimes of self defense.Cures you whisper make no sense!Drift gently into Mental illness.

Demogorgan playlist ( from perspective of Will the wise aka the mf) (song: are you dead yet? )-”polluted soul through a mirror I behold.Throw a punch, shards bleed on the floor. tearing me apart. but I don't care anymore.Should I regret or ask myself are you dead yet?Wake up, don't cry. Regenerate to deny the truth. The fiction you live in blindfolds your eyes. Disclosure, self loathing, this time you've gone too far.Or could it be, my nemesis, that you are me?

(*st ‘into the fire’ comic. the fire powered twin’s thoughts echo the song)

*I think this foreshadows the later plot points of mf (will the wise ) and Will interacting via mirrors. The fire-wielding twin and the non powered twin had a lot of mirror imagery. Including the fire powered twin (Who denies reality/and imagines herself in a fantasy world) punching her reflection because it reminds her of her non-powered twin. Here’s some cover art from the novels showing how much they emphasize mirrors.

*And in s4 movies Black swan - “the black and white swan twins (two halves of the same person-Nina)” had creepy mirror imagery. In long kiss goodnight the women with DID talks to her “ (supposed)dark 1/2″  via a mirror (in a dream).  in ‘the visit’ the teen girl who’s dad abandoned her when young-  refuses to look in the mirror (and it’s never explained why she hates her reflection). So yes I think we’ll see this in s4 or 5. We already see the mf take on the appearance of Billy when talking to him.

- Will in “zombie boy” comic is afraid he’s a monster.

also lets appreciate the lil byler moment of Mike and Will being the only zombies and mike comforting him. honestly , though, the characters were pretty out of character for most of this 1 ch comic (until the end) tbh.

- in the “d&d comic” mf is  (possibly) described as a “protector” (aka like how i said the mf is probably a perpetrator alter- which are misguided protectors).

*update now that it’s finished... hinting Will created everything subconsciously.

‘Runaway Max’ novel (before s3)

(I didn’t get time to read this book unlike ‘suspicious minds’ -so can’t show screen shots of everything others talked about. May read it eventually)

-Max compares Billy  to ‘her monster’ and a ‘shadow’ that will attack anyone that comes close (mf parallel).

- Dart k*lled a cat,  El’s papa tried to force her to k*ll a cat. And Billy when seeing a d*ad cat lights it on fire for a “viking funeral”. A connection to WW (who has fire powers) and El & dart.

-Max and Billy both are into cars and bond over fixing them (similar to Lonnie’s interest in fixing up cars). And since Lonnie tried to brag to Jonathan about fixing a car up and Will is into tech it wouldn’t be a stretch that Lonnie and Will were into fixing cars together (like Max/billy who would hang out at a autoshop in Cali) .  Similar to Will ,max says hanging with Billy wasn’t always so bad- which made things more confusing to her.

- Max compares Billy being beat up by Neil: to ‘punching a pocket of a baseball glove’. This is interesting since this book was pre-s3 which was when they established the connection of billy and his dad to baseball (similar to s1 saying  Lonnie taught Will baseball).

-Billy’s friend is a nice ‘music snob’ . He tries distracting Max with music while Billy is burning the cat. Which reminds me of Jonathan trying to distract Will from their parents fighting in the next room-with music

- Max’s bio dad is a criminal who takes her to shady bars, and Max fears he’d ‘get bored of her’. Max also ran away from her mom to her dad’s 2x.Which reminds me of Jonathan thinking Will ran to Lonnie’s in s1.

-Max mentions how Billy misses his friends after moving out of Cali. And he starts acting even worse-after the move. Which will probably be the case for Will (at least a bit) when moving to California.

-Billy tells Max Neil isn’t his ‘real dad’ either because Neil can’t be a father to anyone.

-Billy also tells Max who (at the time ) is 12 years old not to act “easy” and breaks her best friend’s (Nate’s) arm over  someone joking he was Max’s boyfriend and also cause Nate tried to get in between Billy bullying Max. Eventually all her Cali friends ditch her cause they’re afraid of Billy.And Ugh- why could I see Lonnie doing something like this in the future with Will/his new friends. 

- Creepily Max says Billy doesn’t fool around with her like other girls not because of her age or being family. But cause she wasn’t ‘attractive’. This whole excerpt gave me the heeby jeebies,on so many levels, honestly.  Almost like he’s jealous- and controlling her cause he doesn’t want Max to have any love interests. Maybe i’m just missing the context? But ugh... excerpt:

Will byers secret Files

-Hopper gets scared by a pumpkin-scarecrow. And in Will’s canon journal when talking about the mindflayer and his nightmares draws the same scare-crow , Hopper saw. There’s also a lot of s4-5 foreshadowing in the book... but that’s a post for another day.

Darkness on the edge of town (Hopper novel)

*didn’t get time to read this (except the preview)

 I think it’s more foreshadowing for future seasons though- cult/supposed ritual k*llings, people being wrongly blamed for those crimes-like the hellfire club , most likely.  (similar to the guy number 3 in the number 6 comic)  saint john in the novel also has the same brain control powers as 3- similar to the mf. .” When a blackout plunges the boroughs into chaos, Hopper must escape the the mobs in the streets to make sure his family is safe and stop Saint John from fulfilling his prophecy.” I already talked about here- how the next few seasons would start having more religious symbolism/a future apocalypse (based on what we’ve seen in the show/s4 movies). Although, i think there’s quite a few differences between (the novel’s) saint john and Will the wise. Hopper is also a star wars nerd like the boys (alter hint)

Canon spotify songs (posted after s2/before s3) hinting at DID/ alter /lonnie stuff-

Will  and Will the wise (aka the mf) being an alter

*Used Will and the demogorgan playlist (which i think has perspectives of Will the wise aka the mf, demogorgan, and Lonnie).

Besides the mirror songs previously mentioned...

Will (cold inside)-Doctor the problem's in my chest.My heart feels cold as ice but it's anybody's guess?Doctor can you help me cause I don't feel right?Better make it fast before I change my mind. Doctor can you help me cause I don't feel right?Better make it fast before I change my mindWell it's cold, cold, cold, cold inside. Darker in the day than the dead of night Cold, cold, cold, cold inside...Counselor give me some advice Tell me how hard will I fall if I live a double life?

El (ghost)-your ghost, the ghost of you.It keeps me awake.My friends had you figured out.Yeah they saw what's inside of you. You tried hiding another you.But your evil was coming through... living in the shade Your cold heart makes my spirit shake.

El (monster Lead me home)-I don't know what, what I was afraid of, I was afraid oooof...Monster take me somewhere...We walk in shadow.Monster lead me home.Where there is no place to hide.Stranger on the other side We walk in shadow.Monster lead me home.

 The’ innerworld’/  other hints Max, El, Hopper, and Billy are alters of Will’s

Max (Logical song)-I know it sounds absurd. Please tell me who I am, who I am, who I am, who I am?

EL(Buzzcut season)-I remember when your head caught flame It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain ...nothing's wrong when nothing's true. I live in a hologram with you Where all the things that we do for fun . Play along (make-believe it's hyper real) But I live in a hologram with you.

Billy (broken bones)-Broken bones.Stay alone. If I see only what I believe -reality's bound by what I conceive

Max (Why can’t i touch it)-Well, it seems so real.I can see it.And it seems so real-I can feel it.And it seems so real-I can taste it.And it seems so real-I can hear it.So why can't I touch it?

Hopper (breakers)-Just to keep me from losing my mind .It's so easy to drown in the dream.Oh, and everything is not what it seems This life is but a dream.Shatter illusions that hold your spirit down ...From the inside, so it seems.Oh, I'm telling you it's all a dream It's all a dream It's all a dream It's all a dream It's all a It's all a dream.”

Max (comfortably numb)-When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye.I turned to look but it was gone.I cannot put my finger on it now.The child is grown.The dream is gone.I have become comfortably numb.

Max (Kids aren’t alright)-Still it's hard Hard to see Fragile lives, shattered dreams...What the hell is going on? The cruelest dream, reality.

El(team)-Livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams. And you know we're on each other's team

Hopper (denial twist) ( just change ‘she’ to ‘he’)-Just because she makes you feel wrong she don't mean to be mean or hurt you on purpose, boy!Take a tip and do yourself a little service...by playing a different role Ya, by playing a different role, oh.The boat ya you know she's rockin' it.And the truth well ya know there's no stoppin' it.So what, somebody left you in a rut and wants to be the one who's in control.But the feeling that you're under can really make you wonder.How the hell she can be so cold?So now you're mad, denying the truth.And it's getting in the wisdom in the back of your tooth

El (the story)-You see the smile that's on my mouth.It's hiding the words that don't come out.And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed.They don't know my head is a mess.No they don't know who I really am.And they don't know what I've been through

El (hero) ( pretty much alludes to El being a construct of Will’s mind similar to his juju zombies in the d&d story he wrote )-Who knows what you'll find when you look inside (billy’s mind)?Haunted beach (billy flashback), roll the dice.The zombies in the corner aren't amused (d&d ref).Play the part of the blushing bride...Out of view, cloaked by night...My spirit dims, but I feel the force"No longer in my hands,"  (loses powers) .I say to you .I could've been a hero, I could've been a zero.Could've been all these thingsI could've been nothing, I could've had something.Could've been all these things.And if I am unable, tell him that I'll try but underneath the table will spin the wheel and hope for gold. Oh, and where it stops, nobody knows.

Max (it’s real)-I don't know who's behind the wheel.Sometimes I feel like I don't know The deal.But when I tell you how I feel-Believe me when I say It's real.I skated on a frozen Sea.It's real as far as I Can see?

Max (Halloween)-Because your role is planned for you there's nothing you can do.

El (White rabbit... alice and wonderland/lonnie ref)-And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall...When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead.

demogrogan(Dimensions of horror)-Gaze upon the ancient face you dread (lonnie)... Passing through the doors, into Dimensions Of Horror. Haunting visions from the past, rise once more.Realms of darkness, terror, death and gore.Scream in fear, your sanity is lost

demogorgan (SCHORCHED)-Terrorizing madness. Vivid dreams. internal. Hallucinating the unknown. Abstract entities prey.Through superhuman abilities.Fragments of memory erased.

demogrogan (Calling from a dream)-the shadow king...seven spirits (7 ref) Swarming around his head.Close your eyes.Listen to my call. Our bond will bring us together again.I will wait for you. For our hearts still beat as one.Listen to my calling from a dream. (integration?)

 Maybe a coincidence or a hint at Will having both male &female alters?Billy (dude looks like a lady)- What a funky lady...Oh, he was a lady.Dude looks like a lady. Hopper (turn the page)-All the same old cliches,"Is that a woman or a man?" Max ( rebel rebel) (this was on her her pre s3 spotify list + post s3 “wrapped list”)- you got your mother in a whirl, doesn’t know if you’re a boy or girl? 

 SHIT DAD/ AB*SIVE FAMILY

*trigger w*rning ahead for dark themes like s**ual ab*se

demogorgan (my children)My children I never loved them.Why feel that way when their existence is my business?My children...feral vessals of my selfinterest...So don't lean on me man 'Cause I ain't got nothing to give.Don't lean on me man 'Cause I ain't got nothing to give.My children they're right behind you My children they're gonna beat you.My children if you let them Oh, oh, my children.

demogorgan (black dahlia-window):  I’m not quoting the lyrics you can just look it up.  it’s messed up.Based on the 1st person pov of Gilles de Rais -k**ler and p*d*rest who also kidnapped a cleric.

Will (creature comfort)-Some boys hate themselves.Spend their lives resenting their fathers... hate their bodies .Stand in the mirror (another mirror ref) and wait for the feedback.Some boys get too much, too much love, too much touch.

Jonathan’s Playlist- We’re happy family: “Eating refried beans (poverty). Gulpin’ down Thorazines (pills for a mood disorder). We ain’t got no friends (s2 ref). Our troubles never end. Daddy likes men. Daddy’s telling LIES.”

Jonathan’s playlist-Enter sandman: “Don’t forget my son. Sleep with one eye open. Gripping your pillow tight, Exit light, Enter night. Take my hand, we’re off to never-never land. Something’s wrong, shut the light, heavy thoughts tonight. Dreams of LIARS and of things that will bite, yeah. Hush little baby don’t say a word, and never mind that noise you heard. It’s just the beasts under your bed, in your closet in your head.”

Jonathan (The killing moon-guy sings this)-So soon you'll take me up in your arms. Too late to beg you or cancel it. Against your will!He will wait until you give yourself to him...In starlit nights I saw you.So cruelly you kissed me... unwillingly mine.

jonathan (haunted)-You and I both know that the house is haunted And you and I both know that the ghost is me. You used to catch me in your bed-sheets just a-rattling your chains.Well back then , it didn't seem so strange...In the midnight hour..I was busy trying to charm that snake. When the sun came up we had no place to hide...You and I both know that the house is haunted  yeah you and I both know that the ghost is YOU! You used to walk around screaming, all slamming all 'dem doors Well I'm all grown up now and I don't scare easy no more But you and I both know.

Hopper (Confession)-Now I'm on the low Confession, to a virgin ghost Admission, force you know.

hopper (Tomorrow ) Yeah, and back when s*x and amph*tamines were the staples of our childhood physique.

Max (Last caress)-I got something to say.I k**led your baby today.And it doesn't matter much to me.As long as it's de*d.Well I got something to say.I r*ped your mother today.And it doesn't matter much to me.As long as she spread. (Lonnie pov? Neil?messed up song to be on Max’s list)

hopper House of the rising sun- And my father was a gamblin' man Way down in New Orleans... And the only time he's satisfied Is when he's on a drunk

Max Poor relations-An attitude, no patience, he's paper thin.Talking over everything you have to say...Don't correct the things he said, what's the use?Can't handle violence.Can't handle violence.Learning to love the abuse you can't live without.Your familiar oppression, your daily injustice...That loser man that belongs to you, he's ruling you.

el (sweet dreams are made of this)- Some of them want to use you ...Some of them want to ab*se you.Sweet dreams are made of this...Hold your head up.Keep your head up, movin' on.

Max (Alternative ulster)-They say they're a part of you.And that's not true, you know.They say they've got control of you.And that's a lie, you know.They say you will never Be free, free, free

max In bloom-”Sometimes at night I let it get to me.And last night it had me down and feeling NUMB...And thinking back upon those days Way way back when I was young.I was such a little shit.Cos I was always on the run.Well you know just what they say-Just like father then like son.Don't delude me with your sympathy.Cos I can do this on my own.And this will be the last time-That I break down and wanna crawl to bed. “(since Billy has a playlist I found this song choice being on hers instead of his interesting- in fact almost all of Max’s songs are from the 1st person perspective of a boy unlike the other gals.)

Max (comfortably numb)-The child is grown.The dream is gone.I have become comfortably NUMB.

hopper (numb)-Honey, here I go again Down that crooked road of sin.My momma locked me out again And hung me high to rust under the rain I am NUMB( 8x)....Little bluebird at my window Sing a pretty song for me Don't you know that you can fly, fly, fly away Don't you know that you can leave I am numb.

other psych songs

Hopper (life of sin)-Every morning when I rise I look in the mirror (another mirror ref) and despise the sight of everything and all that I've become. The level of my medicating some might find intimidating But that's alright cause' it don't bother me none.

 Max (Moon over marin)- “Dive in my scalding wooden tub (connects to mf/el)...There, wasn't that a nice visit?Don't forget, a psychiatrist is on duty twenty-four hours a day in the blue room...Drink plenty of water when you take these.Now you can relax.” ( I wonder if stranger writers saying to “drink plenty of water” is secretly a line said by a psych person in s4?)

Max (Feeling ok)-My doctor says that I should take it -At least I won't have to keep faking.I know, someday I'll find it-Where I, I least expect it.Today I know I feel ok.

Max ( Going gets tough)-.No home since the fire.Me and the ash can't settle down...So I sink another round-Placebo for pain.And there's no one for to blame . I refuse to accept-That my work is all in vain...Still always remembering .When the going gets tough .That the labor of our love-Will reward us soon enough.

 Max (Comfortably numb)-Hello? (Hello? Hello? Hello?)Is there anybody in there?Just nod if you can hear me.Is there anyone home?Come on now-I hear you're feeling down.Well I can ease your pain .Get you on your feet again.Relax // Now I've got that feeling once again.I can't explain . you would not understand.This is not how I am. I have become comfortably numb.I have become comfortably numb //Okay (okay, okay, okay)Just a little pinprick.There'll be no more, ah .But you may feel a little sick.Can you stand up?I do believe it's working, good.That'll keep you going through the show.Come on it's time to go// Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.

Explanations of Why the mf  (WIll the wise)behaves the way he does

demogorgan (ww) (Cowards starved)- friends think of me as a priest.I had to show them that the weakest hands Can still make impressive fires. (aka MF = will the wise)

demogorgan (ww) (Unmerciful):I will be reborn...Tranquil demeanor.Now devoured.Surfacing malice...I can't reconcile the torment others bring unto me.I will not take any reproach.Turning the other cheek.Relentless hatred consumes.Control released.Absolved of all compassion.I am free .Look into my hate filled eyes and tell me What do you see?Surging aura of my rage Paralyzing you in fear.

Demogorgan (ww) (bodies-Beaten why for (why for)?Can't take much more.(Here we go, here we go, here we go).One, nothing wrong with me,Two, nothing wrong with me.Three, nothing wrong with me.Four, nothing wrong with me.One, something's got to give.Two, something's got to give.Three, something's got to give now...You're all by yourself but you're not alone...Driven by hate consumed by fear.

demogrgan (ww)-Orbs used as transmitters carry electromagnetic beams from above (affecting magnetic fields in the show).Silence, manipulated, tortured ...How immune is your system of suffering?Its in the blood of suffering (familial ref).Its in the blood.

 Demogrgan (Monster)-I shoot the lights out..Whoa, just another lonely night...None of who you get it, ain't nobody cold as this.A zombie (will ref) with no conscience .Everybody knows I'm a motherfucking monster. Everybody wanna know what my Achilles' heel is? Love I don't get enough of it.

[brywrites]

Flight Risk V

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler.  Part V: In which important words are shared in a bookstore and on a plane.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous  |  Next )

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She arrives slightly out of breath to the bookstore-café. “Sorry, it’s really not like me to be late!”

Reid offers her a smile as she jumps into the order line beside him. “It’s okay, I know.”

“Yeeqin locked herself out of the apartment again so I had to run back to open it for her,” she sighs, shaking her head. A soft flush colors her cheeks and he’s not sure whether it’s from running or from embarrassment. Or perhaps she too is as nervous as he is to be meeting here. Because this means stepping over some sort of unspoken line, it means something more real. Whatever it is. Reid still isn’t sure what this is, but he knows that there is something about her smile that makes his chest tighten and that there are few people he looks forward to talking to as much as Y/N.

He realizes that aside from that evening in the hotel lobby, he’s never seen her wearing something other than her pilot’s uniform. She sits before him in a floral-print sundress and a bomber jacket that is ever so slightly askew, exposing the skin of her left shoulder.

“Yeeqin is your roommate?” he asks.

“Yeah. And I love her to bits, but I swear even though I’m the pilot, she’s the one whose head is always in the clouds.” And it strikes him that for someone who loves the sky so much, Y/N is incredibly down-to-earth. “But enough about me,” she laughs. “How are you doing, Doctor?”

Her use of his title always seems to make his heartbeat quicken no matter how many times he tries to ignore it. “I’m good. Really good. It’s, uh, nice to be able to see you without there being a case.”

“It is nice, isn’t it? Knowing that talking with you doesn’t mean someone is in imminent danger. I can feel a lot less guilty about enjoying it.” He wants so badly to ask what she means by that – if she enjoys seeing him the way friends do, or if she enjoys being with him a little bit more than that – but he’s too afraid to know the answer. Afraid it might be less and he’ll feel disappointed. Afraid it might be more and he won’t be – because what is he even hoping for here? What is he supposed to be hoping for, if anything at all?

They order drinks – a mocha with he pours far too much sugar into, and chai latte she carefully sprinkles cinnamon in. They walk through the bookstacks together, drinks in hand, browsing and chatting as they go. She tells him how she fell in love with The Little Prince as a child and how she found the idea of being a pilot fascinating, even then. He tells her about the books his mother used to read to him when he was little, Medieval texts and Proust and The Canterbury Tales.

“That’s pretty intense reading for a kid,” she says.

“Well I can read 20,000 words per minute. And the eidetic memory helps.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Right, our certified genius. You know I’m jealous. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough time to read all the things I want to read. But you? You can read anything you want.”

“These days it’s mostly casefiles,” he says ruefully.

“Good thing we’re here then. We’ll have to find you some lighter words to keep in that beautiful brain of yours.”

It’s so easy with her. He finds himself telling her about his mother, about how she used to be a professor of literature until her disease got worse. And when he explains she has schizophrenia, she doesn’t give him a look of pity. As if he’s broken somehow. Her eyes soften and she says, “It has to be hard, caring for a parent. You must love her a lot. And I’m sure she’s really proud to have a son like you to carry on all her best stories.”

She tells him how her parents weren’t exactly thrilled with her choice of career, but how she’s certain there’s nothing else that would make her as happy as flying, and how for two months after she moved to DC her only friends in the city were her cat, Amelia, and Yeeqin because she traveled too much for work to put down roots. “I guess at some point you have to decide whether you want adventure or stability, and I think I’m always trying to walk that line. I’m not ready to give up what I love, but I don’t want to let everything else in life pass me by, you know?”

And he does. He knows that the longer he’s at the BAU the more unlikely it is he’ll have the time to teach, to build a family, to pursue other dreams. But at the same time there’s something about the work he just doesn’t know how to step away from.

They sit in chairs in the travel section while she opens a book of maps to point out some of her favorite places she’s flown to, and the places she still wants to go. “Every year I tell myself I’ll find a way to get to Iceland or South Africa, and every year they seem to pass me by.”

“Did you know that Iceland was the last place on earth to be settled by humans? I mean, the last to be permanently settled, when it was accidentally discovered by Vikings.”

“I had no idea,” she says, and something about her smile makes him want to tell her more.

“It’s also an incredibly literary country. Statistically, one in ten Icelanders will publish a book in their lifetime, and books are such popular gifts that many are published right before Christmas. There’s actually a term for it, in Icelandic, jólabókafló∂, the ‘Christmas book flood.’”

She laughs and for a second Reid wonders if he’s rambled too much, but she says, “How on earth do you know that?” and he relaxes.

“Just reading a lot. I… like knowing things.” Anything could be useful in the field, at any time. Or in a bookstore, in the company of a woman whose smile feels like a prize he just wants to keep earning.

“Do you ever want to go there?”

“I don’t know. I never really travelled much before the BAU. Actually the first flight I took was to DC for a job interview. I was terrified so I read three different handbooks on aviation and aerodynamics just so I could feel more comfortable. Understanding it helped me to feel less scared. And now I fly so much I don’t really even think about it.”

Y/N closes the book and puts it back on the shelf. “One of these days we’ve got to get you on a plane for pleasure rather than business,” she says.

They stand together in the checkout line, Y/N with a copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and Reid with a copy of Wind, Sand, and Stars which came highly recommended by her. As they step outside, the sky opens into a downpour. He grimaces, already searching in his bag for his umbrella, but looks up to see her standing beyond the awning, arms outstretched, wearing a grin as the rain hits her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

She spins a circle. “Dancing in the rain,” she laughs. “I love the rain, but I don’t really get to enjoy it when I’m flying because it makes it so much more stressful. I’ve got to focus on what I’m doing. But on the ground I can just let it be. And appreciate the gray sky and the sound of the rain.” She steps back under the awning to join him. “But it will be a damp walk home without my umbrella. I totally forgot it at home.”

“I have one,” he says, and then adds, without thinking, “I could walk you home.” She raises her eyebrows and he worries he’s stepped over that invisible line. “I mean, if it’s not too far and you don’t mind, but I also don’t have to I just thought maybe-”

“I’d love that,” she says. “Thanks, Reid.” And so he opens his umbrella and she squeezes close to him beneath it. They walk the few blocks to her apartment, and all the while he is keenly aware of her elbow against his and her shoulder brushing his arm. And he doesn’t mind one bit. All too soon they reach the steps of her building and he’s not quite ready to say goodbye and end this magical moment where there is no danger and no impending departure and no work to be done. Just the two of them and stories shared and all the words they could want as the rain falls around them. So close under the umbrella, she looks up at him, as if she’s trying to find just the rights words and he can’t help but be distracted by the way her jacket is falling off her shoulder again and how it looks so lovely in a way he can’t quite make sense of and he’s thinking that maybe if he took just another step closer they’d be able to fill this silence with something –

But then the silence is broken by the abrupt sound of a window opening followed by someone shouting, “Y/N!”

They step apart, startled, and glance up at the gray sky. From the second story, a pale woman with sleek black hair pokes her head out of a window. A trail of smoke exits the open window, mingling with the rain. “Thank goodness you’re back! I burned the chicken, so we’re gonna have to order out for dinner!”

Y/N sighs. “That would be Yeeqin,” she says. Then raising her voice to call back up she says, “Give me just a minute and we can figure out carryout!”

“Hey is that the FBI guy you were t-”

“I’ll be right there!” Y/N yells. The window closes, and she turns back to him, looking a little more flustered. The moment is gone. “I should get up there before she burns the apartment down.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“This was really nice though.” She makes no move to leave.

“Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

“I’d like that, Reid.”

And his last name sounds so formal. He doesn’t want formal, not with her. “Uh, you can – you can call me Spencer, you know.” They stand there for just a beat and he wants so badly to reach out for her hand. But he doesn’t.

Then she says, “I’ll see you soon, Spencer.” Y/N walks into her apartment, and he’s still replaying the sound of her voice saying his name in his mind, so focused on trying to commit this whole afternoon to memory that it takes him two blocks of walking before he realizes he’s going the wrong way.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’re waiting for Kate and Morgan to arrive, but the rest of the team is already anxious. She and Arthur can hear them talking as they prepare the cockpit.

“All I’m saying is given the reports, I just don’t know if flying is the safest way to get there,” Rossi says.

“It’s the only way we’re getting all the way to Colorado in time,” Hotch responds.

“We are a pretty small plane though, and whatever happened took down a large passenger plane,” JJ counters. “What if this is a terrorist attack?” Beside her Arthur tenses, but he says nothing.

Rossi says, “On 9/11 we grounded flights to be safe. How do we know this won’t happen again?” Arthur hastily puts on his headphones and busies himself with the controls.

“We just have to hope.”

Y/N knows it’s not her place, but their conversation is clearly unnerving Arthur. She can’t just stand by while her friend and captain is uncomfortable. Before he can stop her, she steps into the cabin where the BAU sits.

“You can do more than hope,” she says. The gathered faces turn to look at her. “I don’t mean to be out of line, Agent Rossi, but I overheard your concerns. Captain Dobson and I are good at what we do. And he’s one of the best pilots I’ve ever worked with. I know this can be scary but I promise that you’re in good hands with us. You trust your team with your lives because you trust them to do a good job. I’m asking that you do the same for us. We may not be a part of the team, but we always get you home safe. This is our job, and we do it well.”

“Of course you’re a part of the team,” Spencer says. Everyone’s gaze flickers to him, but he’s looking right at her. The air feels warmer with those hazel eyes focused on her. “You’re with us for every case. And you’re right. You’ve always kept us safe. We need to trust them,” he adds, glancing at the rest of his team.

“I’m sorry,” Rossi says. “I didn’t mean to insult either of you.”

“No offense taken,” she says. But she wants to be sure any tension is cleared from the air. “But uh, for what it’s worth we’ve restocked the whisky in the minibar if that’ll help you feel a little more relaxed on today’s flight.” The older agent gives her a smile, and she knows all is well. She steals once last glance at Spencer, hoping she can read the gratitude in her eyes, before ducking back into the cockpit. Soon enough the rest of the team arrives. Some quick communication with the tower, and Geff is up in the air again. They fly in silence through the clear blue sky, and it’s not until they’ve reached cruising altitude that Arthur speaks.

“I was flying that day.” Y/N glances at him. She doesn’t have to ask him to specify the date. She simply waits for him to continue. “I flew for United back then. I was a first officer. We were flying from London to Newark and halfway across the Atlantic someone called in over air-to-air telling us there had been a terrorist attack. Next thing we knew we were receiving orders to land in Canada. This tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Gander. There were 37 other planes on the tarmac. We sat there for 12 hours while the RCMP inspected every jet before we could deplane. And we had to tell the passengers what happened. We were there for five days. They said we doubled the population of the town.”

“What was it like?” she asks.

“We were terrified. We had no idea if our plane was at risk of being hijacked. We hardly knew what was happening or why. And we had to try to keep 200 passengers calm. Not to mention there was no way to know if any of our friends had been flying the planes that were used. But it was strange,” he says staring out at the sky. “Despite all of that fear and grief, we were surrounded by some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They fed us, housed us, gave us clothes. They brought us out to pubs and held dinners and parties and did everything they could to make us feel welcome. Seven thousand strangers from around the world, and this little town never hesitated to help us and never asked for anything in return. It was incredible.

“It was actually a little sad to say goodbye. But when we finally flew back into Newark we saw the devastation. Ground Zero was still burning. It was awful. People had flyers up for loved ones they hadn’t heard from. And for a while, people stopped flying. Everyone was too scared to be in the air.” She remembered being in college at the time. The shock and the sorrow. The anger – the day her friend went to her work-study job at the library and found her desk defaced with Islamophobic hate speech. And the fear that seemed almost palpable. Students afraid to fly home for the holidays or to travel abroad. Flying had always seemed so magical, but suddenly a plane had become a weapon.

“My friend was the first officer on Flight 93. We were close. And I know he would have done anything to protect that plane and its passengers. I know all of those pilots would have. Any pilot would. It’s our job. That day always reminds me of the friend I lost. And the moment that someone turned the pure joy of flying into something dangerous. But at the same time, I’ll always remember the kindness that Gander gave us when we needed it most.”

She tries to picture the Captain stranded in Gander, surrounded by kind Newfoundlanders in plaid, waiting for a world that has stopped turning to begin again. It’s impossible to imagine what he must have felt. But she’s grateful he’s willing to tell her about it.

“You’re impulsive, Y/L/N,” Dobson continues. She flinches, startled by the sudden change of subject and the words he’s chosen. “Speaking to Agent Rossi like that was out of line. But you did it out of kindness. I want to thank you for that.”

“What?” What she did earlier is exactly the sort of thing he would usually reprimand her for or lecture her about. But he doesn’t at all seem disappointed in her.

“You need to think things through,” he concedes, “but I know you don’t take such actions out of pride or spite. You do it because your heart is in the right place. You’re kind. And that’s a very good thing to be.” He clears his throat. “Although I do wish you’d let your head take the lead more often.”

She smiles. “Thank you, sir.” The sky is clear all around them. Their passengers in the back are quiet. However scary the world may be, this moment in this plane, flying up there still feels magical.

After a pause, Arthur says, “Betty White and Rebecca Black.” And the soul-baring has passed. Another one of their in-flight verbal games is afoot. People who should be arch-nemeses but aren’t.

“Freddie Mercury and Bruno Mars,” she counters.

“Vivienne Westwood and Clint Eastwood.”

It takes her several minutes to come up with, “Ken Burns and John Waters.”

“Damn, that’s good,” Arthur says. And so they pass the rest of the flight attempting to find all the pairs they can. Soon enough they’re landing at Durango La-Plata’s small county airport. The team deplanes and she and Arthur go about cleaning the cockpit and cabin. They grab their own respective go-bags and say farewell to Geff. It surprises her however, to see that the team is still there, evidently waiting for Bureau SUVs to arrive judging by the way Hotch keeps looking towards the road. But Spencer is standing away from the rest of the group, bouncing on the soles of his feet near the jet stairs. Dobson gives her a glance, eyebrows raised, and says he’ll meet her at the door to catch a cab together.

“Hey,” Spencer says.

“Hey, yourself.” She pulls her go-bag up on her shoulder, feeling a little self-conscious suddenly. The cool Colorado air has her grateful to be wearing a blazer. “Um, I wanted to thank you,” she tells him. “For what you said earlier. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m happy you stood up for us.”

Spencer rubs the back of his neck. “Of course. And I meant what I said. You and Captain Dobson are a part of this team. I know we don’t always show it, but we’re really grateful for both of you. I just want you to know that we notice. And we care. I care.”

There is an unspoken weight to those two words that hangs between them as she meets his eyes. She wants to ask him exactly what he means by that – exactly how much he cares and whom for and in what way. But before she can, Morgan calls for Spencer to join them. Two black SUVs are ready to take them away.

“I’d better go,” he says.

“I know. Be safe out there, Doctor.”

“I will. You, too. I’ll see you soon.” And then he’s gone. She joins Arthur on the curbside and moments later they’re climbing into a taxi together. Arthur is on the phone with his boyfriend to let him know they’ve landed safely. Y/N stares out the window at the tall trees and the clear sky and thinks that ‘soon’ can’t possibly come soon enough.

[abbacchiosbelt]

Upon The Shore | Mer!Joseph Joestar x F!Reader

A commissioned piece for @lovelystand!

3.7k words, not sfw. CW for a description of drowning - however, the reader character ends up safe.

In his mind, he sees it — though it’s only been described to him, he has no trouble picturing the rolling green hills and the bright blue sky, humans bustling about on two legs as they go about their daily business. The buildings that had been described to him are harder to picture in his mind’s eye, their architecture complex, and their outsides less colorful than the environment he had grown up in. He yearned to explore their insides, eager to see what sort of things the surface held.

If someone else were in his place, someone who had lived on the land their whole life instead of in the sea, they might be thinking of something similar - venturing beyond their regular life to experience something new that they’d only heard stories of. For most regular humans, a life under the sea was unthinkable.

Joseph Joestar was no regular human, however.

- Joseph’s long, green tail flitters impatiently in the calm water as he listens to another one of his Grandma Erina’s lectures about how dangerous the surface was, though his mind is far away as he daydreams about the surface.

Joseph had heard her spiel hundreds of times over each time he was caught close to the surface, but it never stuck. Joseph’s curiosity about what lay above the sea was endless. He knew his Granny Erina was just worried about him – all of her family save for his Uncle Speedwagon were gone.

Still, the call to go beyond the ocean pulled at Joseph’s body every day.

He snaps back to attention when he hears his Granny huff in annoyance, having caught him daydreaming instead of listening to her.

“Joseph,” Erina sighs, resigned to the fact that her grandson was unlikely to listen to her no matter how many times she warned him. “If you’re going to disobey myself and your Uncle Speedwagon, at least do us the favor of telling us where you’re at. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

Her voice softens as she stares past her grandson, the bittersweet look in her eyes familiar to Joseph – it’s the same way she looked when she’d reminisce about her late husband and his grandfather, Jonathan. “I suppose you are a Joestar. This kind of thing is in your blood. Your grandfather had the same heart for adventuring as you do.” Erina smiles and meets Joseph’s eyes again. “Just promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t stay up for longer than a day.”

Joseph’s eyes go wide, and his mouth falls open in excitement — it wasn’t exactly approval, but she was no longer outright forbidding him from taking a trip to the surface. He glides forward in the water and swoops his Granny Erina into a hug, spinning around in the water.

“Thank you, Granny!” Joseph practically shouts. Erina slips out of Joseph’s hug and shakes her head, unable to resist the smile pulling at her lips. He really was so much like Jonathan.

“Just remember what I said, JoJo.” Joseph nods eagerly at his Granny’s words, his body thrumming with nervous energy and excitement.

Tomorrow, he’d finally get to experience the most exciting adventure he’d go on yet.

-

Joseph, normally a late sleeper, rises with the sun the next morning. He’d barely slept through the night but still found himself buzzing with anticipation. It only takes a few minutes for him to gather his supplies for the day – the clothing he’d need was stored in a shallow cove he’d found and snuck into to store items he’d pilfer from the shore.

When Joseph emerges from his home, he sees his Granny Erina and Uncle Speedwagon waiting for him. For one second, he balks, thinking they’ll tell him to turn back – but his Uncle puts a firm arm on Joseph’s shoulder, his once brilliant black and white tail swaying slowly beneath him.

“Your Granny told me about your plans, JoJo. We know you’re capable of protecting yourself, but please, don’t do anything rash.” His Uncle squeezes his shoulder before he drops his arm. “You know, your grandfather and I got into quite a bit of trouble up on the surface… I’ll have to tell you about it once you’ve seen it for yourself.”

Erina shakes her head at Speedwagon, though the twinkle in her eye makes Joseph wonder what his Granny was thinking about. Before he can ask, she gives him a stern look. “Remember, Joseph. No longer than a day.”

“I get it, I get it…” Joseph says. “Don’t go too far. Don’t stay up longer than a day. I got this, Granny!”

The rest of their goodbye is quick – it’s not long until Joseph emerges at the cove, he’d stashed the clothing he’d stolen in, perfectly dry as it hung over the rocks.

He has no second thoughts as he hauls himself out of the water and feels the effects of land on his body, his tail giving way to strong legs that had unnatural, green scales running up and down the length of them.

The process has Joseph grunting as his body is pushed to its human form for the first time. It was a power that few merpeople held. The Joestar line was one of them, the power having been taught to them by a mysterious benefactor and passed down between generations.  

When it’s complete, Joseph tries to stand, his legs shaky. It takes a few tries for him to get his bearings, but when he does, he finds himself standing tall as he looks down at his body. He knew he was large for a merman, but somehow, he hadn’t expected it to affect his human form.

Joseph yells a loud ‘Nice!’ to himself before he turns to grab the clothes he’d stashed away. The shirt, a plain olive tank top, goes on easy enough, but dark blue jeans are another story. He struggles to pull them up his thighs and falls a few times before he finally feels them slide over his behind and over his hips.

Anyone else would hesitate in a moment like this, but Joseph wastes no time testing out his new legs by running out of the cove and onto the beach, feeling sand between his toes for the very first time. It’s such a strange feeling that Joseph pauses, looking down to wiggle his toes before he kicks his foot and sends the sand flying with a laugh.

Joseph continues down the beach, looking around in wonderment as he experiences the land above the sea for the first time. The sea breeze on his skin is cool and refreshing, the smell reminding him of his home despite the fact he’d only just left. He’d experienced the sun on his skin while sunning on large rocks before, but to feel it now felt like a whole new experience. Joseph puts his hands over his eyes and squints as he looks to the horizon, a small town looming ahead.

Joseph grins – this is exactly the type of thing he’d been looking for. He didn’t just want to experience places… No, Joseph wanted to experience new people. He takes off down the beach, his long legs growing steadier with every step. It’s only a few minutes before the town is right in front of him.

His Uncle Speedwagon’s descriptions gave Joseph an idea of what he would be seeing upon the surface, but it still took him by surprise to see humans walking upon two feet on the sidewalk and cars driving down the road. Joseph stands to marvel at the sights for a second, unusually quiet.

He’s unsure of where to start until he spots a girl – a very cute girl, if someone was asking Joseph. Brown hair, a cute and thick body, and some glasses. He watches as she heads into a small, two-story store with pictures of books on the sign. Though he had no need for books (they were far and few between under the sea, of course), he couldn’t resist a cute girl.

—

You breathe a sigh of relief when you walk into the bookshop, content to see that the only person present was the kind elderly owner, Maria, who also doubled as your landlord. It’s not that you didn’t want to see the shop succeed – you just weren’t feeling up to the small talk the local townsfolk usually wanted to engage you in.

“Hello, dear.” Calls Maria, raising her hand in a tired wave. “I’m feeling a bit worn out, so do you mind taking over for the last hour?”

You shake your head, happy to help the woman that gave you dirt cheap rent in turn for some extra help throughout the week. Besides, it’s not like there would be any more customers today, right? Maria bids you a goodbye as you take over for her behind the small front counter, leaving you only with the sound of the ocean outside.

A few minutes pass before you decide to crack open the book you’d been reading – but the second you open up the book, the chime above the door rings out. You look up, locking eyes with the most handsome man you’d ever seen. He definitely wasn’t a local. He grins when he sees you looking at him, marching up to the counter with confidence. You assume he’s just a lost tourist.

“Hello.” You say, quiet. The brunette grins, bright green eyes staying locked onto your own. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, I can think of several ways.” The stranger replies. You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment. His grin grows even wider. “How about your name?”

You balk for a second – was a customer really trying to flirt with you on the job? On the other hand, you doubted you’d see this guy again if he was a tourist. Though your nerves are on fire, you manage to murmur out your name to the stranger in front of you.

“Oh! That’s a pretty name. I’m Joseph Joestar, but you can just call me JoJo.” He pauses, putting his elbows on the front desk as he leans down. You notice that he has no shoes on and can’t help but to stifle a laugh. Who was this guy?

He scrunches his nose up. “Are you laughing at me?”

“N-not exactly,” You manage to say between giggles, both shy and embarrassed by just how different Joseph was from any other man you’d met. “You… You forgot your shoes.”

His eyes go wide, and his eyebrows shoot up as he looks down at his feet. “Oh no!” He exclaims loudly. He looks at you with a sheepish grin and puts his hand on the back of his head. “I knew I was forgetting something. I’m, uh… New in town. I lost… the box they came in. Yeah. The box.” Joseph says, sounding unsure. You decide not to question it, though it has you raising an eyebrow in confusion. Joseph simply shrugs, and you drop the subject for now.

The two of you manage to chat for the next hour, with Joseph mostly leading the conversation. He’s so charismatic that despite your shyness, you feel comfortable around him. When you notice the hour on the clock, you sigh.

“Sorry, Joseph, but I’ve got to close the shop.” You pout to yourself before you remember what he said. “Wait, you’re not a tourist, right? You said you moved here?”

“Yeah!” Joseph shouts in reply, startling you. He gives you the same sheepish grin from earlier. “Uh, sorry. Is it okay if I stop by tomorrow?”

You were the kind of person that never expected this sort of thing to happen to yourself – you thought you were plain and boring. Too shy, not pretty enough… And yet here you were, talking to a handsome stranger who was giving you genuine attention without being creepy. No longer did you want to deny yourself of experiences like this due to shyness – with a small smile, you nod.

“Sure. You can stop by before we close.”

-

Joseph comes the next day, and the next, until you realize he’s visited you almost every day for a month. You didn’t think it was possible to fall for someone so fast, yet every little thing Joseph did had you falling more in love with him every single day.

The first day he doesn’t visit in a while is a stormy day – you’re not upset. You wouldn’t expect anyone to go out in this kind of weather. Not only was there a torrential downpour outside, but the sea and wind were raging. The sidewalks in the town you lived in weren’t built to withstand heavy rains despite the location, so it was best not to go outside during bad storms.

Unfortunately, you’d found yourself on the opposite side of town from the shop after a short grocery trip for yourself and Maria. Though it’s against your better judgement, you decide to step out from the walls of the warm grocery store into the chilly and turbulent storm. Each step seems to be more dangerous than the last, and you consider running back to the store when you reach the hill that leads down to the shop.

With a hesitant step, you begin to walk down the hill. Suddenly, you feel your world turn upside down as you slip on the wet earth, your body tumbling down the hill straight towards the raging ocean. The bags you were carrying are flung out of your hands as your body roughly smacks against the ground and you’re propelled down the hill – the only thing you can do is brace yourself for impact into the water, the fear coursing through your body making your heart pound a million miles a minute.

You’re tossed underwater and find yourself being drug under by the strong waves in an instant, your body nearly freezing in shock before you start to thrash wildly. Even though there’s a voice in your head screaming at you to try and calm down, your body continues to panic no matter what you do. You push against the water as your lungs burn, helplessly trying to force your head above the water.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you feel your body give up without your consent, your limbs falling limp by your sides in the water as the last bits of air escape from your lungs. The sky above isn’t even visible above the choppy waters – and then you’re being pushed through the waves at a blinding speed before your head emerges above the water as you gasp for air, lungs expanding painfully as you gulp in fresh breaths.

“You scared me,” You hear a voice say, though it sounds distant. Weakly, you turn your head and come face to face with Joseph – or at least you think it’s Joseph. There are bright green, iridescent fins sticking out of the side of his head where his human ears normally were. Before you can think about it too much, you find yourself sinking into darkness as your body starts to pass out from all the stress you’d just put it through.

The last thing you remember is Joseph calling out your name before you close your eyes.

-

When you wake up, you’re back in your own bed… except there’s a large, warm presence next to you that has never been there before. You blink wearily until the form turns over, revealing Joseph’s snoring face to you. Even though you’re still weak with sleep, the events of the past day come rushing back at you.

If it weren’t for Joseph, you wouldn’t be here right now. Though you want to wake him up to thank him, to tell him how much you love him, you know it’s better to settle back down and let sleep take you once more.

When you wake up again, Joseph is still next you, though he’s no longer asleep. Instead, he’s sitting against your headboard and flipping through a book with his brows knit. You stare at for a moment before he notices you, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

“You’re up!” He shouts, practically throwing the book down to gather you up in his arms. “I was so worried…”

The two of you remain like that for a moment, Joseph’s strangely cool arms wrapping around your body with ease. Despite how grateful you are and how happy you are to have Joseph next to you… You have some questions. You pull back and put your hand against Joseph’s cheek, meeting his gaze.

“So…” You say. Joseph echoes the sentiment, looking sheepish. “A merman, huh?” Joseph eyes you for a moment, nodding. “There’s record of merpeople, but they were thought to be extinct. At the very least, merpeople that were able to walk on land have been unheard of for years.”

“Yeah, well…” Joseph says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Surprise?”

He looks nervous. You roll your eyes and smile – typical Joseph. “We can talk about this later. For now… Let me thank you?”

“T-thank me?” Joseph says, his suave persona falling away. He was finally able to be vulnerable in front of you, the bravado he usually carried fading as Joseph felt more and more comforted by your presence. “Babe… If you’re sure.” He pulls you onto his lap so that your legs are on either side of his body but makes no further moves. “I think you already know this, but I love you.”

Even though you knew you would hear it from him someday, you still blush. “JoJo,” You sigh, happy. “I love you too.”

Joseph leans forward and presses his lips to yours, leading you into a tender kiss that quickly turns passionate as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. He tangles his hands in your brown hair to pull you even closer until you’re pressed flush against his chest, his movements careful as so not to pull too hard. Joseph was gentle, despite all his enthusiasm and strength.

Joseph slides his hands from your hair and down your sides as he continues kissing you, until he’s pressing you down into the bed, finally pulling back to smile at you. He puts a hesitant hand at the hem of your shirt. “Can I?” Joseph says, sounding breathless.

“Please,” You murmur. Joseph lifts your shirt up over your head easily – and though you feel like covering your body with your arms for a moment, the reverent and loving look on Joseph’s face makes you change your mind.

“Wow,” Joseph breathes out. “You’re beautiful.” You feel your face flush even redder at the sound of Joseph’s compliment and he takes it as a cue to continue on, pressing his lips to your body until he’s kissed his way up to your neck. You squirm beneath him, core aching already for Joseph’s touch.

Your own hands come up to press against Joseph’s prominent pectorals and he gasps in surprise before he looks up from your neck and grins. “Like what you’re feeling? I can take this off for you.” He leans back and practically rips his olive-green tank top off, exposing his muscled and tanned body. You’re speechless – Joseph is beautiful. The confident grin on his face grows at your expression. “I don’t need any words from you, babe. That look is enough.”

The next few minutes feel endless in their pleasure as you and Joseph explore each other’s bodies, hands gliding up and down and lips pressing against the most sensitive spots either of you can find. Both of you end up with your clothes on the floor as you stare at each other longingly, finally ready to connect your two bodies as one.

Joseph is laid back against the bed as you hover over his straining member, his fingers digging into your plush hips. You can barely believe you’re here with him now – but you are, and he loves you. You sink down onto his cock and Joseph groans headily as your soft walls squeeze him, your own moans falling out of your lips as you adjust to the stretch.

“JoJo,” you moan, squirming as he bottoms out inside of you. It’s like nothing you’ve felt before, but you feel so full and so good. “You feel so good.”

Joseph stops himself from bucking his hips at your words and digs his fingers into your hips tighter. “I’m ready for you, baby.”

An experimental roll of your hips, and then another has you and Joseph moving in tandem in only a few moments – it was like the two of you were perfect for each other in mind and body. The emotions from the day have both of you running on high and you feel your climax coming sooner than usual. By the look on Joseph’s face and the grunts he was making, you know he’s not far behind.

“I’m close,” You hiss – Joseph doesn’t hesitate to bring one of his rough finger pads to your clit as you ride him, circling it with sloppy motions but with enough pressure that it has you crying out for him and clamping down around him as your orgasm washes over your body. Joseph cries out your name only a moment later and you feel his cock twitch as he releases himself inside of you. You collapse onto his warm chest and wrap your arms around him as both of you breathe heavily and come down from the moment.

Later, after the two of you have gotten cleaned up and shared a long conversation over several cups of tea and coffee, you find yourself in pleasant shock as Joseph presents a beautiful pearl ring to you and says, “Will you marry me?”

-

12 months later, you’re sat on the shore while your husband shows off for you in the ocean. Marrying a merman wasn’t something that came with a guide, but the two of you had more or less figured it out. Joseph’s family, though surprised and confused, were delighted once they too had come to the shore to meet you on the day after Joseph’s proposal.

You startle when you feel movement in your stomach and you place one of your hands on the round dome, feeling little feet kicking at you. Joseph notices you’ve stopped clapping for him and swims over, eyes alight in wonderment as he sees you cupping your belly.

He swims close to the edge of the sea and you inch closer until he can rest one hand opposite of yours on your bump, smiling.

“You know, I think I’ve thought of a couple names.” He says.

“How about Holly for the girl and Josuke for the boy?”

[bowieandqueen11]

Muse / Jonathan Byers Imagine

Request: Yesss I’m extremely emotional about stranger things too!! Can I request a Jonathan Byers x reader where Jonathan is always snapping pictures of reader. Like the reader is his muse. Then he also keeps a photo album of the pictures. Love u!! 

Of course my love @billhaderstrashbag! I’m sorry this turned out sadder than I meant it to

Comments are always appreciated!

‘Come on Y/n, please? One more for the road.’

You brush past a hugging Will and Mike as you grab the hand of your boyfriend, pulling him further towards the edge of the Byer’s residence lot. Joyce bites her lip as little as the two of you pass, trying to shake away the tears that cloud up in her eyes as she sees the way her son looks at you. But this was no time to cry. She had a daughter to look after, to protect now, to be strong for.

‘Jonathan, you already have about a billion photos of me, will you please just let me take one of you.’

You raise your hand, the light from the dying summer sun throwing its glow around the edges of his smile like a halo. He glances at you as he fiddles with the camera you had bought him last Christmas back: it was top dollar, made from black hammered metal, the lens jutting out on a highly polished brass looking cylinder, finished at the end with a rim of more black metal. Two dials and a button poked out from the top and it bore the name Y/n. 

He cleaned his lens for the umpteenth times and quickly placed the camera back in front of his face. It made a wonderfully mechanical whirring and clicking noise as he captured you yet again.

‘You already have one of me, remember. I took that picture on top of the carnival we went to after graduation and gave it to you.’

‘I know, and that one’s great pinned to the edge of my bed’, you frown as you grab onto his collar and pull him towards the hood of his car, pushing him down gently. ‘But this time... it’s different, you know.’

You chewed your lip as you slide up next to him, glancing away into the trees that only shake their pines back at you in condolence, nothing but emptiness in their branches. You shake your head, dipping into Jonathan’s touch as his hand reaches up to cup your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling so sorry for yourself, after everything that had happened. You were alive. Jonathan was alive. Some others weren’t so lucky, and god knows Will deserves a fresh start away from this town.

But god, did this hurt. You thought losing your dad was bad enough. You couldn’t go through this again-

He gently leans his forehead against the side of your head with an exhale as you let one tear slip down, followed by another. ‘It just feels so much more final now.’

‘Hey, we’ll be back to visit at Christmas. That’s not so long away.’

‘How am I supposed to last that long without Jonathan Byers.’

You only roll your eyes, fluttering them shut for a second. Jonathan makes into his bag, but decides, just for the moment, to allow himself to revel in the feeling of sitting next to his muse for a while. In the peace. In the calm. If this summer had taught him anything, it was that you never know when it might be your last chance to.

As the afternoon began to settle in, everything was cast in honeyed tones, beautiful yet unnerving. You slowly started, your head resting on Jonathan’s chest, moving your hand through the air, watching your fingers as they danced through the confetti of rays. Just as the first bite of cold wind creeps under your shirt, the metal becoming cold under Jonathan’s fingertips, his arms envelope you, comforting and warm. In seconds your body is moulded to his own, sharing his body heat as easily as he shares your heart. It takes you a moment to realise he’s holding something in his hands.

Not being able to help yourself, your fingers reach behind you and grab the book from his grasp. Your fingers paint over the gold engraving, glowing against the charcoal background, little spirals that flicked across the cover like Catherine Wheels. You tug at the little red bow that keeps the overflowing pages softly locked together, the lace a little faded and smudged at the edges from Jonathan’s fingerprints.

‘J, what is this?’

‘I wanted to show you this, before I go. It-it’s my heart.’

You raise an eyebrow at him as the bow comes loose in your hand. You ignore the shouts of Max and Lucas from behind you as they ride off down the dirt road on their bikes, the rest of the party begins to mill away from El and Will.

Much to your surprise, it’s neat inside, occupied by only one thing. Photos. Lots of them. The picture on the first page, folded on the edge but as bright as ever, carefully looked after, is of your first date going to see ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’. You laugh to yourself, not seeing the warm smile that Jonathan gives you. You had forgotten how many nightmares that movie had given you. It seemed so silly now. You brush against the next one, recognising it immediately as Christmas day at the Byers’ house, your arm wrapped around Will by the Christmas Tree as Joyce’s arms are wrapped around you both. You flick through, page after page after page, all just filled with you.

The tears sting so much in your eyes that you barely feel him grab your hand.

‘I know you’re scared of the future, but it’s just a form of nostalgia, isn’t it? We keep on dreaming of something greater, or worse, just to escape the present for a little bit. But these pictures, these pictures way open themselves to you every day, that subtle invitation to join their world. I love these photographs. I love you. And you’ll always be here, next to me, every single day. Not in the future, when I will see you again’, he nudges your shoulder to hear the strangled sob you give, ‘but every. Single. Day.’

You both just stay there for a moment as a fiery red orb of light slowly sank beneath the horizon, and threads of light lingered in the sky, mingling with the rolling clouds, until all that was left of the sunset was a chalky mauve.

Once Jonathan had gone, you just stay in there yard for a while. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you step over the weeds to reach the biggest tree in the garden, a gentle smile gracing your lips. The pleasant wind was like a music of old memories to you, of all the summer days you and Jonathan had spent playing in this very garden, in this now empty house when you were children. When you had nothing to worry about except pretending to be knights slaying the monster, before Hop would come pick you up, Sara in the backseat, old fifty tunes blaring from the stereo. It felt safe, warm, like home. You touch the tree, tracing old drawings the two of you had etched on.  

As your love took over your mind, allowing you solace for a moment, your cheeks become wet with tears. 

Trying to ignore the cold wind against your sodden cheeks, you take a deep breath and turn around, not looking back.

Please support me on Kofi!

[diyunho]

The Joker X Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 2

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1         Part 3        Part 4      Part 5

“That was very nice,” you whisper in The Joker’s ear. “I know you’re not sleeping,” you sigh and force yourself to get out of his bed after watching TV together for almost 3 hours. “I’m going, OK?” you whisper, not sure why he’s ignoring you. But you have a clue: he probably just wanted to avoid a huge fight with Emma or your father finding out about his cruel words regarding your illness. “Fine, whatever…” you admonish and exit the premises, upset he’s behaving like that since he offered truce a few hours ago. The King of Gotham is actually completely out, even if you believe otherwise.

It was awesome having him carry you in his arms and not protest when you kissed him; you have to admit you were disappointed he didn’t initiate anything once you ended up in his bed; you really thought he would. J let you snuggle to him and you hoped for more to happen, yet his lack of interest made you realize it was stupid to try and hint you wanted him. What is a 40-ish old man supposed to do with a 22 years old woman that playfully keeps flirting with him? In this case, obviously just enjoy a couple of movies which proved he doesn’t take into consideration your dumb crush.

The more you analyze this night, the more you’re inclined to vote for the exact opposite of what you did: you should have kept your mouth shut and refrain sharing intimate matters with him.

I guess sometimes genius truly skips a generation …

*************

3 Weeks Later

You didn’t come to the mansion in the last 3 weeks: when J woke up the next morning after your visit, you were gone. Emma informed him you waited for her to catch up and then went home; he wondered if you left because of what happened or if there was no reason for it at all. One thing’s for certain though: The Joker got the slight impression you evade him, especially since two days ago you dropped Emma off then raced out of the property in a hurry when you noticed he was coming out of the house. The skid marks on the pavement were a pretty clear sign you didn’t want to linger at the place you normally enjoyed hanging out at.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean you can escape The Clown Prince of Crime forever.

“OK,” Emma gives you a soft nudge in the restaurant owned by her parent. “You gotta help me out,” she pleads to a skeptical Y/N. “I insisted we have lunch here for a good reason: my dad brought his wacko-on-and-off-girlfriend and I can’t stand her; I need backup. Please flirt with him and say that stuff you usually say!” she giggles. “You have my blessing to go crazy, I swear you won’t hear a peep out of me! It will be hilarious to see her reaction!” she pushes you and it’s too late to escape the unwanted rendezvous you had no clue about until now.

You are already at the table and didn’t have a moment to take in your best friend’s proposal: you wish you had a warning about this plan of hers but Emma impulsiveness and surprise element runs in the family.

Maybe she thought you would love such a funny challenge…

Yeah… not really...

You know Mara anyway and bumping into her alongside J is not enjoyable to say the least, mainly due to the odd atmosphere you hope his daughter won’t notice.

“Hi daddy,” Emma pulls her chair and you take a seat by her muttering a faint hello.

“Hey kid!... … Miss Crane,” he sneers and you intensely stare at the menu in front of you without blinking.  

“I didn’t see you in forever,” Mara addresses you and you indifferently glare at her. “I must say you look terrific: you are glowing! What’s your secret?” she snickers and you duly inform:

“I’m dying. I’m sure you remember I have terminal cancer; my dad makes my meds and they do help somewhat, thus the glow.”

“As long as you’re not contagious,” the woman underlines and Emma gasps at her affirmation.

You smirk and reach over to touch her forearm, softly digging your nails in her skin.

“I am and now that I touched you, you’ll die too!”

You get up from the table while hearing The Joker saying something but your ears are ringing so you can’t discern a word.

“How can you say stuff like this?!” Emma reprimands and you calmly take a small ampule from your pocket, open it and pour some dust in the palm of your hand.

“I was just expressing a concern,” Mara gesticulates and you bend over, blowing the fine ashes in her face.

“What the fuck?!” she quickly brushes the ticklish powder off her cheeks, worried at your action. “What is this?!”

“Nightmare,” you scoff. “One of my father’s top products. I recently assisted him make it stronger and there’s no antidote. Don’t worry though, it won’t kill you and it will wear off in a few hours. Plus, it’s not contagious. Enjoy!” you leave the gathering and Emma follows, enraged things didn’t go as planned yet she can’t blame Y/N.

Since the restaurant is closed to the public due to his owner’s presence, there’s not a soul around besides J that can hear Mara’s terrified screams once the wicked hallucinogen kicks in: it’s called Nightmare for a good reason!

*************

6:02PM

“Knock, knock,” The Joker enters Scarecrow’s lab, already in a foul mood.

“Not a step further!” his movement gets halted. “Sterilize yourself if you want in: I’m making more capsules for Y/N,” Crane points at the numerous ingredients on the counter.

“Your lab is huge, if I stay right here…” J tries to convince Jonathan although he’s aware he has zero chances: it never succeeds but his stubbornness prompts him to fight the request each time.

“No!” your father firmly rejects the proposal. “Sterilize yourself and come help me!”

“Where’s your daughter?” The King of Gotham starts washing his hands in the sink by the glass sliding doors.

“She went to stay at the cabin. I got lectured,” your dad huffs, scolding in the next second: “You’re not done! More!” he commands and J reprises the cleaning process required by his very obliging host.

“Ugh,” he mumbles and continues. “Why did you get lectured?”

“Apparently, I buried myself in this place and she hates it. I also got threatened that if I don’t stop trying to find a remedy for her incurable disease, she’ll quit taking the current medications. I received orders to call Evelyn and beg for reconciliation also,” Scarecrow briefs a gratified King of Gotham:

“I guess we both have someone in our lives we can’t neglect,” The Joker dries his hands, puts on latex gloves and snatches an immaculate lab coat from the hanger nearby.

“What am I to do?...” Crane whispers. “Let my daughter die without trying to save her?...” then immediately snaps out of it. “Hair net!!!!” he shouts at The Joker, annoyed he’s trying to skip it.

“For God’s sake,” J complaints … still does as required. “What’s in for me in exchange for my services?”

“What do you want?”

“Two vials of your new, improved Nightmare formula. I witnessed it at work today and let me tell you, that stuff’s amazing!”

“How did you witnessed it at work?! It’s not released on the black market yet,” Jonathan carefully measures the quantities for your medicine.

“Oh, funny you should mention,” the evident sarcasm makes your father pay attention. “Y/N used it on Mara earlier today and she totally lost her mind! I had to lock her up in the pantry at the restaurant with three of my men guarding the door! She went bonkers!!!”

“Sorry,” Scarecrow’s flat tone irritates J. “I guess either you or Mara did something Y/N didn’t like. Welcome to my daughter’s shit list,” he cordially emphasizes.

“You shouldn’t talk to me like this,” The Joker fixes his green locks under the hair net. “One of these days I might become your son-in-law, you know Y/N showers me with her undivided affection.”

“Over my dead body!” Jonathan shrieks and The Clown Prince of Crime seems delighted.

“Hmmm… I can arrange that.”

“Just shut up and help me, would you? What am I paying you for?! Y/N needs more capsules; she’s almost out. Can you tell Emma to take this to her? I’m gonna let her chill, she’s still mad at me.”

“Wimp, you’re afraid to confront her,” J rolls his eyes and Scarecrow is not the one to be intimidated by his guest’s nonsense:

“Says the man that freaked out and searched the town for hours thinking his daughter run away when in fact she was asleep behind the rose bushes in the backyard at their mansion.”

“I didn’t freak out!” The Joker sulks at the unwelcomed reminder.

“Of course you didn’t,” Jonathan serenely replies. “Now fill out the capsules with the amount I already weighted and don’t mess up! I’ll verify your performance.”

“Give it a rest!” J growls. “Emma left for New York; she’ll be there for a couple of days. I’ll take this to Y/N.”

“Don’t think so,” he gets cut off. “I’ll send one of my couriers.”

“I’ll do it for free.”

“Why?”

“I have a score to settle,” J confesses to Scarecrow’s dismay. 

“If you hassle my daughter, I’ll create a plague designed only for your genes and I’ll exterminate you from this planet!”

“Imagine this is not the first time I’m threatened with a pathogen manufactured to ensure my demise,” The Joker hints even if he doesn’t have to.

“She is my daughter,” Crane explains, entirely understanding the reference. “The branch doesn't fall far from the tree; she knows I would so you’d better watch it!”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, right?” the pushy menace concentrates on his task, adamant in finding a way to see you no matter what.

**************

8:31pm

The Joker drives on the narrow path leading to the cabin, stirring left when a car coming from the opposite direction hunks at him.

“Heeeeyyyyy, Mister Joker!!!!!” someone yells and the other SUV accelerates past J’s yet he has enough time to recognize the aggravating pest: Sam aka Bane’s son. A few unpleasant phrases are grumbled regarding the encounter when another detail sets off the pissed King:

Y/N is racing towards the cabin after recognizing her best friend’s dad vehicle; you came out to say goodbye to Sam and take a walk when your idea abruptly changed.

“Are you kidding me??!!” J grinds his teeth while watching you stumble in the grass, then energetically gather yourself up and sprint inside, slamming the door behind.

“Wow!” he exclaims while parking close to the stairs, unsure on how this day will evolve; so far it goddamned sucked.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker taps at the heavy oak door. “Open up, I have your med!”

Maybe if you don’t engage he’ll leave.

“Is this how you thank me for delivering your pills?!” he gets worked up, thumping intensifying.

“Leave the package on the porch and go away!”

“Oh, she speaks!!!” J instantly snaps. “Open up, it’s cold out here!”

“No it’s not,” you call him out on his bullshit.

“You owe me apologies for what you did to Mara!” he demands, cringing at your defiance.

“Ha! When hell freezes!!!”

“What was Bane’s son doing here?” he tries a different strategy, definitely losing patience.

“None of your business!”

“I brought dinner,” J adds because that’s the last ace in his sleeve. “From the restaurant… your favorite. Aren’t you hungry?”

Does the silence mean you’re giving in?...

“Did you bring strawberry crepes too?”

“Yeah,” The Joker lies since he naturally forgot about desert.

The door faintly creeks and you unlock it, finally letting him in; you’re hesitant about your judgement and snatch the two paper bags out of his hands: the small one contains capsules, the big one harbors foam containers with the foods you like.

“Where are the crepes?” you frown at the lack of the delicious treat.

“I have this suspicion you’ve been avoiding me,” J talks about the reason he’s there without answering your question.

“I’m not…”

“Then why don’t you come to the mansion anymore, hm?”

His gaze circles the living room, involuntarily noticing the blood stained tissues in the trash can by the couch.

“Did you have another episode?” The Joker inquires. “Should I call your dad?”

“No…I’m fine…”

“Are you sure?” he insists and you unwrap the plastic utensils, sniffing.

“It’s not a big deal, it happens more and more often… I wish Emma was here,” you wipe your teary eyes and J bestows his infinite wisdom upon the young woman.

“Well, my daughter’s not here and I’m not renowned for making people feel better,” he twists the cap of the bottled water near him. He takes a sip then gives the container to the confused Y/N. “I’m not sure if this will help, but you can touch something my lips touched.”

You smile at his offer, kind of happy he’s using one of your catchy lines.

“What’s this? Reversed flirting?” you pout and drink from the bottle, placing it on the table afterwards.

He doesn’t bother to respond besides apathetically mentioning:

“I’ll spend the night; it’s dark outside and I don’t want to end up in a ditch.”

“It’s summertime, still sunny,” you highlight the indisputable truth to a guy that couldn’t care less.

“I’m tired. Crane pressured me to work! Did you know he took advantage of my kindness and made me sink a couple of hours in his project? What project you ask?” J cracks his neck although you weren’t curious. “I helped made your treatment,” he blurs out and your blank attitude irks The Clown. “You can compensate me by letting me crash here for the night.”

“I’m 100% sure my dad already compensated your efforts,” Y/N utters.

“Why was Sam here?” the earlier question is reprised in order to distract you.

“Are you jealous?” you nibble on your lasagna and J snarls:

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Then why do you have to know?”

“Professional interest,” the vague disclosure scores absolutely no credits with the feisty Y/N.

“That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” you shake your head and decide to unravel the mystery. “He picked up an item for his father. Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite,” you tease and The Joker protests.

“I’m not worried! I don’t even care! Can I sleep here?” he switches the topic and has to boast: “We can party all night long like we did last time!” J sassily reveals; he believes you’ll mock yet it’s not the case.

“You’re very late to this party…” your voice dies out and The King of Gotham is aware what you’re referring to. He digs his fork in the fresh salad, reassuring on a whim:

“Better late than never…”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

[baldrambo]

On Joyce Byers....

Joyce Byers is a bad ass.  So why is she handled with kid gloves by everyone?  This is a bit of a companion discussion to my Hopper post from a few weeks ago. Like my prior meta, I will discuss what I believe to be truths about Joyce and her arc, which don’t appear to be aligned with most analyses of her character that I’ve seen elsewhere. I will make 5 assertions and address each of them below the cut because (as per the norm) this got really long and I am not trying to clog up people’s dashboards.

Assertion 1: We have no canon evidence that Lonnie was physically abusive and making Joyce his victim does a disservice to her characterization

Assertion 2: What Bob represented to Joyce was more important to her arc than Bob himself (aka Bob/Joyce were not really a good match)

Assertion 3: Making fun of/being frustrated by Joyce’s magnet obsession misses the point of her arc in S3, which was about her pro-activity rather than reactivity

Assertion 4: Joyce inappropriately attempts to compartmentalize Hopper (aka Joyce needs to let Lonnie and Bob go if she’s to ever move on)

Assertion 5: Joyce is not a delicate cinnamon roll in need of our protection she is a BAMF and should be treated as such.

Assertion 1:

Our first introduction to Joyce is as a small, mousy, anxious, chain-smoking single mom who….can’t find her keys.  And not because she is is careless. She has literally SO much on her plate at any given moment that the location of her keys is trivial until it’s not.  She works long hours at a low-wage job to support her boys.  She really has no life outside of work, paying bills, and cleaning house.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  She is just barely scraping by. 

And yet we learn through flashbacks fairly quickly after Will’s disappearance that despite working long hours, despite the constant stress….she still manages to find time to parent her boys.  And not just be any old parent, mind you.  Joyce Byers is a good parent.  When Will is out in Castle Byers she doesn’t just barge in.  She respects his personal space, remembers a unique nerdy password, and waits for him to tell her that she can enter.  She then trusts his judgment when he says that he can handle watching Poltergeist. This is later juxtaposed by the scene in Nancy’s bedroom with Jonathan where Karen attempts to enter the bedroom after Nancy has had to lock it.  Jonathan looks at Nancy, a little shocked, and says “she doesn’t knock?” Which is weird to him, of course, because Joyce would always knock.  Now lets contrast Joyce, who is Mother of the Year, with Lonnie Byers who is a Grade A Piece of Shit™. He abandoned the family and hasn’t seen them in years.  And when he was around, he spent his time being a deadbeat, calling his son a faggot, and trying to force his boys into being “manlier” and more mainstream.

We first meet Lonnie in 1x2 when Jonathan drives out to Indianapolis to confirm that Will is in fact, not with his father.  When Lonnie’s girlfriend answers the door, Jonathan pushes past her and into the home, shouting for his brother.  Lonnie then comes in from outside, grabs Jonathan, and pushes him up against a wall.  Only then does he realize it’s his son.  Lonnie hadn’t seen Jonathan in so long that he almost didn’t recognize him, and initially thought him an intruder. Jonathan angrily shoves Lonnie back, who steps back and laughs. Notably, Jonathan does not appear to fear Lonnie and Lonnie makes no attempt to otherwise assert any other type of physical control over Jonathan. Lonnie talks to him like he’s an adult.

When Lonnie returns in 1x5 for Will’s funeral, he is an immediate negative influence who has Joyce up drinking all night, calls her crazy, and starts sniping at Jonathan about some stupid poster in his bedroom being inappropriate.  However, there is no real confrontation until Joyce finds the flyer in his belongings and realizes he is attempting to collect on Will’s “death.”  She screams at Lonnie and holds her ground when he shouts back.  She shoves him. She gets in his face and throws his bag at him.  And then little 5′2 Joyce Byers successfully throws a grown ass man out of her house.  He never raises a hand to her.

This is not a Lonnie Byers apology piece.  Lonnie Byers is a shitty dad, shitty partner, shitty person.  I think an entirely separate piece could be written on the emotional abuse of his boys (although in the 80′s Midwest much of that would be considered normal, but that’s another essay).  But there is nothing to suggest that Lonnie ever hit them, or Joyce.  If the Duffers wanted Lonnie to be physically abusive, they would make it obvious, no?

The most clear example of this? Neil Hargrove. When he enters Billy’s bedroom in 2x8, he has complete control.  Over Billy, his wife, the conversation.  He overtly strikes Billy, humiliates him, and it��s clear that Billy fears him.  Susan Hargrove also fears him, and she stands in the background for the entire confrontation, avoiding eye contact, saying nothing.  The only time she attempts to intercede is to diffuse the situation, diffuse Neil, when he commands that Billy apologize and quickly shuts up when it’s clear her efforts didn’t work.  She then exits the room, first allowing him to leave the room before her. The dynamics here are light years from Joyce/Lonnie/Jonathan.

Ok so.  Why am I bringing all of this up? Because, imo, turning Lonnie into a physical abuser cuts at the heart of Joyce’s characterization.  Joyce Byers is a fighter.  That’s what Bob loved about her.  “You fight back,” he told her, in a somewhat awestruck voice.  Joyce is not a Susan Hargrove. None of this is to suggest that Susan is to blame for what she has gone through, or that somehow Joyce is better for not being like her. I contrast them because the Duffer brothers do. Joyce will steamroll anyone and anything that gets in her way to protect her boys.  If she’s on a mission….if she is trying to save someone…watch out.  Making Lonnie a physical abuser so he can be a plot device, or because it makes it easier to hate and villainize him upsets the core of Joyce’s character. And it changes the entire show.

Assertion 2:

Much of Joyce’s inner strength shines through in S2.  When S2 begins, Joyce can’t leave Will’s side and still worries about him incessantly.  She’s overbearing and “struggles to function” whenever she is not with him.  She is forced to re-live the horrors of what her and her family went through every time she goes to Hawkins Lab and worse…she has to place her trust in the very same people who nearly ripped her family apart.  Yet, she doesn’t give up, she soldiers on for Jonathan and Will.  But so much like S1, S2 Joyce is helpless.  She is unable to control what is happening around her.  The events of S1-S2 make her reactionary, she gets dragged along by the plot instead of driving the plot.

But there is one bright spot of happiness for her…..Bob.  He is the exact opposite of Lonnie in every way.  He is kind, thoughtful, hardworking, honest, and trustworthy.  He put Joyce first, he tried to bond with and be a parent to Will and Jonathan. And he was willing to jump in to the fray when he had no idea what was going on to save her, save everyone despite being absolutely terrified.  Bob Newby. Superhero.

There are some early warning signs that perhaps….we as the audience are not supposed to view this as the perfect match? Jonathan, in particular, doesn’t seem to approve at all, in fact, it downright confuses him.  He confides in Will that he doesn’t understand what Joyce sees in him and later gets agitated when he learns that Bob has stayed the night.  Hopper, too, seems to struggle with it. And while a lot of that can probably be chalked up to the early signs of jealousy, his forced “I’m happy for you” appears to be at least somewhat tied to his inability to take her dating “Bob the Brain” seriously.  Why drop all these hints if it doesn’t mean anything?

It’s the conversation she has with Bob in 2x2 on Halloween that really cements Joyce’s arc and Bob’s central purpose.  While they’re dancing to Kenny Rogers, he starts prattling on about moving to Maine.  He’s in love with her, he knows being in Hawkins is hard for her.  So why not start over again and be a family? “We aren’t a normal family.” She tells Bob.  His response is simple: “It could be.” And that moment plants that seed for Joyce.  What if they COULD be a happy, nuclear family?  What if they COULD leave all that trauma behind them and finally find safety and security?  She starts thinking on it so much that by the end of S2 when Bob brings it up again, she’s all but ready. And the Duffers have confirmed, if Bob had survived she would have gone with him to Maine.

But here’s the thing: what if someone else besides Bob had planted the idea in her head? Would she have wanted it any less?  Or consider, was it really Bob himself that drove her desire, or was it always lying dormant there waiting to be activated?  If she had started dating Hopper after S1 instead and HE had been the one to make the suggestion, would she have desired it any less?  Did she really love Bob himself, or the idea of him?

It’s easy to romanticize Bob because he seemed perfect, he represented the happy ending that Joyce wants, that WE WANT for her, but here’s the thing.  There is no perfect guy.  You can’t move a few states away and leave behind Demogorgons and another dimension that nearly killed your son.  That stays with you wherever you go, and you have to face it and deal with it.  You can’t run away from trauma, and Joyce has to realize this.  Joyce is chasing a mirage. Perhaps Bob was kind of a mirage, too. 

Assertion 3:.

The Joyce we see at the end of s2 seems….like she’s going to be okay.  She has her boys, Hopper’s friendship.  She’s lost Bob but the Gate is closed now, everyone is safe (or so everyone thinks).  But then there’s S3 Joyce.  She’s lonely, isolated, sad, discontent, and restless.  The kids are trying to move on from the events of S1-S2.  But she’s unable to.  She’s unable to move on from Bob, from her fear that her boys could still be in danger, from the feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong again and she won’t be able to stop it. 

So Joyce preemptively reshapes her arc.  She decides she is going to put her own house on the market.  Bob may not be coming with her but goddammit she is going to move anyway and find safety somewhere else.  When she notices the magnets fall off the fridge she is not going to wait and see what happens, SHE is going to go research magnets and solenoids and weird science stuff she doesn’t understand and SHE is going to figure it out and SHE is going bring it to Hopper before shit hits the fan.  And when they call the military, SHE is not going to wait around for them to show up and save her kids.  She’s going to take action herself.

Thus, Joyce is driving much of the plot in S3, rather than being dragged along by the plot as she was in S1-S2.  She is not focusing all of her time and energy on Will and his safety, and reacting to where he is and what he’s doing, she is able to focus on Hopper, El, the Party, the bigger picture.  Will kept her focus narrowed, magnets expanded them.

And perhaps most significantly, the magnet obsession is what ultimately saved the day.  Joyce is the hero of S3.  Think about who saved the day in S1-S2.  Who were the heroes?  El and Hopper.  In S1, El sacrificed herself to kill the Demogorgon and save the Party and Hopper resuscitated Will.  In S2, El and Hopper closed the Gate.  In S3, who saved the day? El?  She had no power.  She wasn’t even the one fighting the Meat Flayer. Hopper?  He was trapped on the platform.  Who closed the Gate and killed the “Meat Flayer?”  Joyce.  By herself. This ended the threat, this stopped the “Meat Flayer,” this saved El and the Party.

I think it’s easy to miss all of this due to the tonal shift in S3, which added some silliness to the plot lines that didn’t exist in S1-S2.  On the surface, obsessing about magnets instead of your son seems ridiculous.  But this shift gave Joyce’s character a chance to breathe, a chance to grapple with her own feelings, what she wants, it gave her a chance to just be Joyce instead of Mom™.  So S3 is about her, instead of what is happening to her. 

And i think, ultimately, this tonal shift in S3 is what allowed that to happen.  If the circumstances in S3 were the same as S1-S2, then the Duffers wouldn’t have had this freedom.  If we want to see Joyce grow as a character, there has to be time and energy spent on her away from her kids and away from the same closed loop of S1-S2. Which brings me to my next point.

Assertion 4:

Jopper.  You can’t expect me to write this long ass meta on Joyce Byers and not talk about Hopper, right?

In early S3 there is obviously a marked shift in her relationship with Hopper.  There are no longer secrets (El) or other relationships (Bob) that they can use to hold each other at arm’s length anymore.  There are no other adults in town now who understand what they’ve been through.  Joyce is effectively co-parenting El with Hopper and it’s clear that he not only asks her for advice often but that they spend a lot of time together.  This did not happen between 1 and 2.  It’s made fairly clear upfront that Hopper is hopelessly in love with her, but what of Joyce?  She’s more difficult to read.  And this is due in large part to the fact that she is more complicated than Hopper and her feelings are more complicated than his.

I am not here to argue about whether I think Joyce loves Hopper.  This entire analysis is based on the assumption that she does because I think the Duffers and Winona have given us more than enough to go on to draw that conclusion.  What I AM here to argue, however, is that Joyce is still grappling with what she wants and (inappropriately so) is attempting to compartmentalize Hopper.

Adult relationships are complicated and particularly for a character like Joyce, who has been to Hell and back a few times, there is added complexity that has to be dealt with and worked through.  She’s been in prior relationships before.  She knows what it’s like to be in love and she’s felt the pain and grief that comes along with it.  She’s been divorced already, had a spouse that abandoned her, children  to prioritize over her own love life, and trauma stemming both from the events of 1983-1985 and separate from it.  Joyce, especially, is fresh off the train of losing a love interest who she got close to very quickly.  You can imagine her hesitation about leaping forwards again with someone else who could die.

There’s your backdrop for Joyce in S3.  Throw a healthy dollop of she has feelings for Hopper and then point blank ask her: “What do you want, Joyce?”  She could probably tell you that she wants to feel safe again.  That she wants to be free of the pain and grief of losing Bob and what happened in S1-S2.  If you really can get her to open up (or if you are a mind reader like Murray) you would also find out that she is still holding onto that desire to have a normal, happy family which includes a “nice guy to settle down with.”  The thing about Hopper is that he fulfills all of this for her, just messily.  Joyce is still looking for that coloring book of life to be filled in by an artist (Bob). Hopper fills it in like a 3 year old with disorganized scribbles that cover the picture but can’t quite stay in the lines.  Lonnie is easy: he never even filled in the lines to begin with.

Hopper shares personality traits with both Bob and Lonnie.  Like Bob, he makes her feel safe, she can trust him, she knows he cares about her, feels more than friendship for her.  But he’s also brash and loud and argumentative and after spending a decade of her life screaming with Lonnie….she doesn’t want that again.  He probably at times DOES “remind her of a bad relationship,” but Hopper is not Lonnie.  He respects her, treats her like an equal, trusts her judgment. But she can’t escape the constant comparisons.

And what I’ve seen from a lot of the fandom are the same attempts to shove Hopper into the “Lonnie” box or the “Bob” box that Joyce keeps trying to do.  S1-S2 Hopper is in the “Bob” box.  We like S1-S2 Hopper. But S3 Hopper, man.  He is in the “Lonnie” box.  He yells and stamps his feet.  This Hopper isn’t “good enough” for Joyce.

But here’s my radical proposition: Hopper IS good enough for Joyce if he is who she wants.  And he is what she wants.  But she needs to let Lonnie and Bob go first.

Lonnie and Bob still have a hold on her and if she is going to be able to take that leap forward with Hopper she needs to put their ghosts to rest.  She couldn’t save Bob, but maybe she can save Hopper.  Maybe Hopper isn’t perfect and has a temper, but that is ok because he loves her and respects her unlike Lonnie. I think if we see Joyce work through this in S4 and join her on her journey of making the decision to be with Hop and making that choice FOR HERSELF rather than the plot or some other force making that decision for her, the payout is gonna be huge.

Assertion 5:

Finally, I wanted to touch on the common theme of this whole analysis: that despite this inner strength, despite the growth and change her character has undergone, she is still largely handled by the ST fandom with kid gloves.  Like she is someone that can’t take care of herself, and who we need to step in and defend and protect against….the world.  Here are a few examples I’ve seen over and over:

1) Mischaracterizing S3 Hopper as an “abuser” that Joyce needs “protection” from, much like she needed “protection” from Lonnie. 

2) Attempting to turn Jonathan into her protector/her keeper.  

3) Defending her when she is in the wrong because she is Mom™ (see i.e. standing Hopper up for their date and being non-apologetic about it.)

4) Analyzing “what is best for Joyce” without thinking about her canon feelings or what SHE wants

As I dissected above, Joyce never needed protection from Lonnie. She doesn’t need protection from Hopper. Or anyone.  She doesn’t need Jonathan stepping in for her and she does not need us the fandom, to decide FOR her what she wants and what she can and cannot do.  All this does is, ultimately, build her arc around men and strip her of her agency as a character.

All the canon evidence suggests that she is a bad ass.  She curb stomps assholes on the regular and saves the day, multiple times.  So why is it next to impossible to find any discussion of Joyce that doesn’t involve complaints of what man (Duffer or otherwise) is wronging her at any moment?  Is it because it’s just easier to pidgeonhole characters, particularly female characters, into villain/oppressor and “the good guy?”  Because if we open her up into complexity outside of being our cinnamon roll mom we worry she could disappoint us? Because we cannot accept that a good female character doesn’t need protection?  What happens if Joyce is just a complex person who is both mom and badass? Focused on her kids and herself? Deserving of her own life and respect for her autonomy? Is both selfish and selfless?

Joyce, imo, has one of the most compelling arcs on the entire show.  We are introduced to her as a Mom who is barely holding it together already and then loses her son, sending her into a spiral that her inner strength alone carries her through.  After nearly losing her kid again, she loses her boyfriend horrifically, and just when she thinks they may have finally escaped it all permanently she has to single-handedly close the Gate, torching the only other man she loves in the process. So she packs her shit up and moves her family away from the danger.  She goes from the most reactive character on the show to, perhaps, the most proactive one.  

She may not have “powers,” she may not be able to effectively wield a gun, but she can knee an asshole in the crotch and that makes her a hero to me. I say let her be everything she is, allow her to explore her own wants even if they are imperfect, let her make mistakes and stand up for and protect herself, and let her be her own person outside of the character arcs of other male characters.

Andddddd end scene.

[alsbesluit]

peace.

i never had the courage of my convictions  as long as danger is near. and it’s just around the corner, darling because it lives in me. “Get me Jace. Find him among the rest. We need him for this mission to succeed. Imogen Herondale would gladly give us whatever we want once she realizes we have her grandson. I’m sure the others won’t mind if the other option is hurting their friends.”

It was a day after Valentine Morgenstern spoke those words, saw his men killed and was arrested by the boy he tried to raise and decided it wasn’t for him. Jace woke up in Lydia Branwell’s bed with sticky eyelashes. The notebook was laying on her nightstand. It had probably been there before, but to Jace it was an answer to the question ‘what doesn’t belong in this room?’ Really, the answer should be him, not the notebook. But he’d never belonged anywhere. Not really. Yet, Lydia’s arms were the safest he felt in years.  He knew what to do. He knew he didn’t want to do it. He knew he had to. He’d wasted too much time not-knowing and now that he knew, he couldn’t let anyone else not know. It was unfair. It was unethical. No matter how much he didn’t want to, it didn’t matter. This wasn’t just about him. He was a better man than Valentine. He needed to tell.

Jace kissed Lydia and smiled weakly at her. “I have to go be a responsible -” adult was the usual end of that sentence, often accompanied with a disgusted face expression because Jace didn’t do responsible even on a good day. But this time it didn’t ring true. “Herondale,” was therefore the end of the sentence, giving Lydia an easy way to figure out what he was about to do. She smiled. She didn’t ask question. He’d never loved her more. “Good luck,” she said. She kissed him again. Jace wanted to stay and never leave. He got his leather jacket from where he left it the day prior, smoothed it over and put it back on. He ran his hands through his hair in hopes of it resembling something of a normal style as opposed to a complete bedhead, but him wishing for miracles had never paid off. Another look at Lydia and he exited her rooms, on his way to the basement where Valentine was locked up.

Unfortunately, the only way to the basement was through the Ops centre. Lydia had left instructions for the normal work to continue, Jace knew, as they cleaned up the mess that Valentine and his followers caused. It was busy, every table taken. People looked at he passed by. He moved ahead stoically. He didn’t one anyone answers. He didn’t owe anyone a second look.  There were two exceptions, and those two approached. Izzy wary, Alec concerned. They stopped in front of him, making sure he couldn’t just walk around them. Alec folded his arms over each other in a convincing impression of Jace on a normal day. Izzy gave him a look that answered one question and asked ten more.  ‘”Where the hell have you been?” Alec was using his matter-of-fact voice, the one he used when he was worried but didn’t want it to be obvious. It was obvious without the undertone. “We were worried about you.“ It had been obvious without him pointing it out, too. “I’m fine,” Jace replied. “I was asleep in a place no one could find me so no one could wake me. You’re one to talk, sleeping at Magnus’ every time that’s more convenient for you as opposed to thinking of others trying to find you.” That shut up Alec, who actually looked offended, but not Izzy. “Were you with the girl?” “What girl? There’s a girl?” 

Jace glared at Izzy for saying it with Alec there. Then he glared at Alec for actually responding to it. “I have much more important matters to tend to than talk about my love life, thanks,” he said. “Yes, I was with the girl. Yes, there’s a girl. No, we’re not discussing it. Frankly, again, the two of you have a lot of nerve complaining to me about keeping my love life from you. One of you almost married a girl in an entire ceremony without actually being into girls and the other is attempting to keep from everyone she’s seeing a Downworlder. Get better at suppressing your shit or talk about your shit, but don’t come at me about my shit when I’m the only one in this goddamn family that has it together.” 

Alec and Izzy exchanged a glance that spoke volumes for the three of them. Neither of them probably expected such a sharp reaction, but Jace wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t here to be grilled. He was here to go see Valentine, who should be the receiving end up being ripped a new one. They were in the way. “Are you sure you slept enough? You sound very sleep-deprived,“ Izzy commented. Jace glared again. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, sounding suspiciously like Alec when he was in his denial phase with Lydia. Disturbingly similar circumstances, very different outcome. He’d marry her within a heartbeat if he could. “Jace, what is going on with you?” This time, Alec was unable to suppress an undertone, which was part annoyed and part worried.  He looked straight at his parabatai. “Valentine told me who my birth parents are. Now move, because I have to go rip him a new one about the fact. I’ll tell you more once I know more.” Alec was surprised enough to move aside and Jace immediately took the space to move past his siblings. He jogged through the rest of the Ops centre in a louse attempt to create more distance between him and his siblings, well aware they could easily catch up with him if they really wanted to. Thankfully, they didn’t. He could only hope that neither of them would tell Maryse.  all these people think love’s for show but i would die for you in secret. When he got downstairs in the basement and made his way towards the glass cell where Valentine was kept, he was surprisingly let in by the guards without a word of protest. He could use the win, so he kept his commentary about the fact to himself and marched up to the glass with the intention to start yelling at Valentine immediately, who was awake and facing him. But then a voice spoke, disturbing him. “Well, well. Mister Wayland. Miss Branwell told me you’re the one that arrested Valentine. Very well.” He didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind him. Who else came to talk to Valentine. The reason he was let in so easily. The guards thought Lydia sent him to talk to Imogen Herondale about how he got Valentine imprisoned. He didn’t intend to do any such thing whether Imogen Herondale wanted to or not. Regardless of not needing to turn around to see, Jace turned around slowly and took in Imogen Herondale. He looked nothing like her. She had dark hair, brown eyes and a none too friendly face expression, even if her words had been. He didn’t want to be in the same room as her, never mind her and Valentine.  Behind him, Valentine laughed. Jace closed his eyes briefly and prayed for patience, well aware that something cruel was about to come out of his father’s mouth. That was how he knew Valentine was Valentine. He couldn’t go a minute without saying something cruel to Jace, his favorite target.  “You’ve taken my light. Your darkness will come.“ That wasn’t cruel, but neither did it make sense. Jace turned back around abruptly and made a beeline for the glass wall of the cell so he was facing Valentine directly. Valentine was, of course, grinning, endlessly amused with the situation despite being the one locked up in a cell.  “I don’t want your riddles, so shut the hell up,” he spat at Valentine.  “But it wasn’t a riddle, Jonathan,“ Valentine replied, grinning still. The undertone of his voice, too, was amused, and he was clearly none too impressed with Jace’s outburst. “Those are the words that the High Inquisitor here sent me through fire-message when I killed her son. I had taken her light. My darkness would come. I suppose she’s right. Of course, she doesn’t know that I took something else from her and you didn’t tell her. Maybe I did raise you right after all.”  Jace’s reply came without thinking about it. “I should have murdered you when I had the chance. Fuck the Clave and their take him alive policy. You’re a parasite, an insect, the sort that itches when it lands on you and that you can still feel hours after the fact. I should have crushed you like the bug you are.” Showing his violent tendencies in front of the High Inquisitor and also his grandmother really wasn’t the way he should have handled the situation. Alas. Imogen Herondale, thankfully, didn’t pay a lot of mind to the outburst. He could hear her approach, but she never came near. In the glass he could see that she was standing a couple of feet behind him and a couple of feet to the right, keeping a careful distance from both him and Valentine but still closer than she had been before.  “What did you take from me, Valentine?” the Inquisitor asked with the kind of icy calm that Jace admired and knew he’d never have.  Valentine’s face expression then, as well as the way he theatrically leaned back on his chair and pretended to have to think about whether he wanted to reply at all, made Jace want to storm in there and stick Valentine’s dagger through his heart. That seemed too kind, though. It made more sense to rip open a few arteries and watch him bleed out very slowly. 

At last, Valentine sighed, smirking still regardless. “You didn’t tell her,” he tormented Jace. “Why not? You’ve always wanted what I finally gave you when you arrested me. Are you afraid? Is the great Jace, the greatest demon killer of the New York Institute, afraid of something? What is it? Failure? Not being good enough? Are you afraid you’ll disappoint? Are you -” Jace was sure Valentine could have gone on a long time if Jace let him. He wasn’t going to listen to it any more. Instead, he turned away from Valentine and towards Imogen. He took a deep breath, folded his arms over each other and spoke. “Valentine took your grandson. He stole him, raised him and eventually, when he turned out to be nice and good instead of cold and ruthless, left him.” your integrity makes me seem small. you paint dreamscapes on the wall. i talk shit with my friends it’s like i’m wasting your honor. Imogen looked like a woman that had seen too much and too little at the same time. Her eyes didn’t leave Jace’s figure, even as she moved backwards to a chair to sit down. Behind them, Valentine also found just enough common sense to shut up for a chance. Jace really didn’t want to do this with Valentine around to comment, but it seemed that they were. 

“You look like your mother.” Jace stared.  and you know that i’d swing with you for the fences. sit with you in the trenches. would i be enough if i could never give you peace?

[salembride]

A Dark Stranger pt.1

Summary: Dr. John Seward, a.k.a. Jack, has a cousin, Rose. She is visiting London from the United States and has no idea there is an ancient vampire of legend only a few blocks away.

Warnings: None

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I have been waiting in my hotel room for what seemed like hours. I am visiting my cousin, John Seward, in London. We were going to meet up at 7:30 for breakfast because he had “serious matters to discuss with me,” but he sent me a text a little over an hour ago apologizing because he was going to be late. My watch indicated that it was well passed 8:00, and the bright rays of the rising sun were now shining through the thin, creme curtains that covered the windows. The streets of London are busy this morning, very different from the little town I am accustomed to back in the U.S. I always love visiting London though; it’s so different from the big cities I’m used to, if you can even call places like Harrison, Arkansas a city. Yeah, yeah, I know... Harrison, yuck. People who know of it typically get a bad taste in their mouth whenever they hear it. It used to be a seat of racism and discrimination, which in many way it still is, but some of us are trying to turn it around. Unfortunately, it’s also the closest “city” to us, so if we want work, we go to Harrison. If we want groceries, we got to Harrison. If we want... well, you get the idea. Anyways, John, or Jackie to me, is my mum’s nephew. She is English, but she fell in love with an American from California, and together they moved out to the country and had me. Mum and I used to come to London often for a visit with her family while I was growing up; Dad would come too if he could get the time off. I haven’t been to London since before I started college, but as soon as a graduated, I knew I had to come see Jackie. He is well on his way to becoming a doctor, and I couldn’t be more proud of him. I’ve been so excited to see him and talk about our new careers and catch up on all the things we’ve missed over the last four years since I started college. However, he’s seemed so different this visit. I know that there is a girl, Lucy Westenra, but I never got to meet her. She died mysteriously a few nights ago. I can’t help but wonder if she’s had something to do with his odd behaviour. She recently became engaged to a guy from Texas; that upset Jack terribly. Still, I’ve never known Jackie to distance himself because of a girl, but love does strange things to people. He wouldn’t even let me attend the service with him because I didn’t want me to get hurt, which I still don’t understand, but I tried to give him some space. 

I shrug all of these thoughts from my mind and decide to step out on the little balcony off of my room. The sun reflects off the windows from a few of the nearby buildings and casts long shadows on the streets below. I suppose it’s beautiful, but I must admit that I’ve always prefered sunset over sunrise. My family always gives me a hard time about enjoying the night so much more than the day, and my college friends even used to make jokes about me being a vampire. However, there is something particularly breathtaking about this morning, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. A soft growl from my stomach pulls me back from the serenity I nearly allowed myself to enter, and knock sounded on my door. “Nice timing,” I say patting my belly and chuckling. “There you are, Jackie,” I begin as I open the door, “I was beginning to wonder if you had... died.” Jack’s face is so pale it seems all the blood has run out of it, and he just stands there, staring at me blankly. “Jack, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” He steps into my room, and we make our way the the little couch. He can’t even look at me now, but I can see the tears forming in his already swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Jackie,” I ask again, “What’s wrong?” 

“Lucy.” It’s barely above a whisper.

“Lucy. I know you miss her, Jackie. I cant even imagine what you must be feeling-” 

“Twice.” He cuts me off.

“You mean, you lost her twice, with the engagement then her death? I’m sure it probably feels that way, but I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No. She died... twice.” He continues to looks at the designs the sun leaves on the floor in my room.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Please, try to explain. I’m concerned.” I say taking his hand in mine. He’s shaking.

“Zoe. She’s gone now too.” I met Zoe a several years ago when Jackie originally got involved with the Jonathan Harker Foundation. He had since become a part of a “secret mission,” which Dr. Zoe Van Helsing had recruited him for. He told me when I first came back to visit that Zoe was sick... really sick.

“The cancer..” I said more to myself then him. He did say or do anything at first, but he eventually nodded in agreement. He finally looked up at me and gave me a small, obviously fake smile, but I smiled back all the same.

“I know I am already late for breakfast, we should go there now. I’m surprisingly hungry, I didn’t think I would be after last night. So, I know if I’m hungry than you really have to be.” As if on cue, my stomach responded to his statement with a low growl. He let out a small chuckle for real this time, “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll need to make a quick stop at the Jonathan Harker Foundation before we grab food if that’s okay.” he said as we got up from the couch and handed me my purse. I threw it over my shoulder and placed my hand on his cheek.

“Of course, Jackie. Whatever you need to do,” I said with a smile before moving to the door. I pulled my hotel room key from my purse and locked the door. When we stepped out of the hotel and onto the busy street, I took a deep breath. I’ve never dealt well with tragedy in my own life, and I didn’t have the slightest idea of how I was going to help Jackie get over this: two heartbreaks and a dear friend lost in such a short amount of time. God help me, this is going to be a long day, and I’m not sure I am prepared...

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick & Reader Chapter 49

warnings: nsfw, minor john wick chapter 3 spoilers 

The floor in the living room creaks as John walks throughout the house locking up all the doors and making sure everyone is gone. You’re already in the guest bedroom, praying like hell the bed is semi-comfortable for you and John, even if it was the most uncomfortable bed, John would never complain. You, on the other hand, would definitely complain about it.

Bleu pushes the door open with his snout and wags his tail when he sees you. He sniffs the bed a few times, then he groans loudly as he lays at your feet. The lights in the living room go dark, and John’s footsteps get closer as he appears in the doorway.

He leans against the door frame and exhales, “All locked up, and all the lights are off. I did leave on the light above the stove though, just in case someone needs some water or something in the night.”

“Oh, good idea actually. Dan usually gets up in the night for some water.” you say as you watch John start to undress. He throws his dress shirt on the bed and you get out from under the covers and put it on, leaving it unbuttoned, “I’m cold.”

“Well, it looks good.” he says and leans back against the headboard of the bed. He pats the spot between his legs and points at your foot, “You said earlier tonight that your feet hurt.”

“They hurt so bad.” you whimper as you crawl in between John’s legs and rest your feet in his lap.

“Look how tiny your feet are.” he holds up your foot, then puts his hand next to it for comparison, “Tiny.”

“Rub them, Jonathan!” you whine, playfully.

“They also stink.” he says, holding it up to his nose as he laughs and you wiggle your foot out of his grasp. “I’m just kidding.”

“You’re so gross.” you say, closing your eyes when John rubs his thumb into the arch of your foot. He pushes his thumb hard against the knot in your foot, working it loose and you gasp loudly, “Oh, my god, that feels so good.”

“Shh!” John laughs, “Someone will hear you.”

You look at John, cocking up an eyebrow as you open your mouth to moan loudly, but you don’t when his face turns bright red. He continues massaging your foot, and you watch as he starts to smile.

“What’s goin’ on?”

John looks up at you and shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“I don't believe you,” you say, almost singing, “Tell me.”

“I just want to thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, tilting your head.

“For everything. For...” he clears his throat and swallows hard, “For giving me a family.”

“You consider Tess and Jimmy your family?”  

“Yeah, your mom too.” he nods and smiles at you, “Your mom is so nice to me, and when I picked her up from the airport, it was so…natural between us. And Dan, he’s cool. It’s just nice having them be so accepting of me. And your mom trusts me so much with you, so that makes me feel really good. I mean, you’re out here on your own, then you moved in with me and she immediately accepted it and…” he leans closer and whispers, “I think she likes me. I think she thinks I’m good for you.”

“Of course she does! John, she loves you. When I talk to her on the phone, the first thing she asks about is you. She really likes you a lot. She goes on and on about how good you are for me.” you watch John as he smiles wide, then it slowly fades. “Did Helen’s family not like you?”

John shakes his head, “Conversation for another night I suppose.”

“Got it.” you laugh and get up to move to sit next to John.

“Tess is like that really annoying little sister I always wanted when I was younger.” he laughs as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh, god, I know.” you laugh, “Except she’s my annoying big sister. It’s good to have her. I tend to think I deserve the awful things people say to me, so I’m not the best at sticking up for myself, but Tess, she’s great at sticking up for me.”

John brushes his thumb against your cheek to get you to look up at him, and he smiles sweetly, “You know you don’t deserve the awful things people say to you though, right? And I’ll always be here to remind you of that.”

“Yeah.” you nod and lean up to meet John’s lips for a tender kiss. “So, I have you, Tess, and Jimmy now. Seems like a good trio to me.”

“Yeah, Jimmy really cares about you.” he nods and looks down at you, “Kept asking if you were going to be okay when you were talking to Tess. He was so worried, and he felt so bad because Matt had come with his cousin.”

“Well, that’s not his fault. It’s not her fault either. I’m sure she had no idea who he was, and I’m sure once she finds out, she won’t be going out with him again.”

“Oh, definitely not. Jimmy already talked to her and she was disgusted. She was asking if you were okay, too. That family…worries a lot.” he laughs and presses a kiss to the top of your head as he hugs you, “She told me to hug you for her, so...”

“That’s sweet.” you hug John, then intertwine your fingers with his and sigh, “Can I ask you a question? You can totally say no, I won’t be upset.”

“You can ask me anything.” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Did you ever look for your family? You have the resources and the money…”

He nods his head slowly, almost like he knew you were going to ask. He starts to shake his head and looks at you, “No, I never did.”

“Really?” you tilt your head back to look at him and he nods.

“Nope, just figured since they didn't want me, I shouldn't waste my time looking for them.” he says, looking down at you, “I’ve made peace with that.”

They didn't want him. You feel your heart break at the thought of John being so young and not understanding why his parents gave him up.

“Maybe they couldn't keep you. Maybe it was a really unfortunate situation.” you say, trying to play devil's advocate. “Maybe…she was really young and just couldn't take care of a kid. We don’t know the whole story, John.”

He shakes his head, “It doesn't matter.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up. I upset you, I can tell.” you say and feel your heart break again. Upsetting John was your last intention, but you just wanted to know a little more about his childhood.

John lets out a small laugh as he shakes his head, “You didn’t upset me.”

You sit up to straddle John and his hands move to your hips. “Listen, you're my family, John. And you know what, if they didn't want you, then fuck them. They're missing out on the most wonderful man I've ever met in my entire life. You're so full of love, and it amazes me that even after everything you’ve been through, you still have such a big heart. I have literally never met someone like you.”

John cups your face and leans his forehead against yours, “Thank you.”

“I mean it. Jonathan, you are…amazing. I know that word is so overused, but it’s true. You’re so patient with me when I’m having a bad day. You’re understanding when I don’t want to talk about something, and I’ll admit, I am not like that with you.” you laugh and John starts to smile.

“You underestimate yourself a lot. Not many people would have stuck around after finding out their boyfriend is…well, me.” he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, smiling when you press a kiss to it, “They would have ran for the hills when they saw the guns in my basement and probably been scared of me, but you…you just yelled at me.”

“See, I’m not scared of you.” you say, poking John’s stomach. You wrap your arms around him and he pulls into a bear hug as you two cling to each other in silence.

“Anyone would have left me when they saw the way I was acting tonight.” he whispers and you lean back to look at him, “But I needed to do something. I’m sorry that you had to see it, see me being…”

“Don’t say it. Jonathan Charles Wick, don’t you dare.”

“A monster.” he whispers and you sigh loudly as you slouch.

“Never. Never, Jonathan.” you cup his face and shake your head, “I would never think of you as some sort of monster, and I hate that you think that’s what you are. I’m sorry that someone has gotten into your head and made you believe that, but all I saw tonight was a man protecting someone he loves.” you say, then immediately start to laugh, “God, was that corny or what?”

“It was a little.” John laughs as he pulls you back into his arms. “Been hanging around me too much.”

“Well, it’s true.” you close your eyes, then start to laugh again, “Can you believe I pulled the ‘John Wick is my boyfriend’ card tonight? Who the hell was I?”

John laughs quietly and leans back to see your face, “I was honestly so shocked.”

“I mean, you are just…Jonathan to me. You’re just John.” you shake your head and chuckle, “But I kinda like throwing it in his face who you were. I know he knows who you are. Everyone does. Except me apparently.”

“And I liked it that way. Well, until I thought we were both ready for you to know.”

“That didn’t go according to plan, did it?” you say, and the two of you laugh.

“Can I show you something?” he asks and moves you back to the bed as he stands up. “I'll be right back.”

You watch John leave the room and hear the basement door squeak open. Bleu is at the foot of the bed and perks up a little as John's feet scamper down the steps. After a few minutes, Bleu begins to wag his tail, alerting you that John is on his way back into the bedroom.

“Hi,” you say and kneel on the bed. You notice John holding a manila folder and you look back up at him, “What's this?”

“When we were looking at baby pictures, I thought about these. I didn't look for my family, but I do have some stuff from my childhood. I know you want to know more about it and trust me, it was pretty uneventful.” he sits back down on the bed and taps the spot next to him.

“Okay, well, I definitely don’t believe that it was uneventful. You were in foster care, and you were in the Marines for a while. That’s not uneventful, you’re just leaving stuff out so you don’t make me sad, or so I don’t judge you -- which I never would.”

John laughs and shrugs a little, “Well, what would you say if I told you I went to a school that trained children to become assassins?”

“I would say it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve told me.” you look up at John and smile, “The weirdest thing you’ve ever told me was…hmm, probably that you’ve never seen Titanic. Everyone has seen that movie, Jonathan. Get with the program.”

John stares at you in awe and he exhales in relief, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you.”

You pat John’s cheek and smile, “I love you.”

“I love you.” John holds your gaze for a few moments before he looks down at the folder and pulls out some papers, “This is a file with all my information on it.”

“Can I look at it?” you ask, reaching out for it and sitting cross legged next to John.

“Of course.” he laughs and hands it to you, “Why else would I have brought it up here?”

John’s file has him listed all over the world at some point. Hawaii, Mexico, Germany, Italy. You knew John traveled a lot for work, but knowing he was a kid when he went to a lot of these places takes you by surprise.

“Where haven’t you been?”

“Where haven’t I been?” he laughs and tilts his head back as he thinks, “Well, I’ve never been to Australia.”

“Really? Not much assassin business going in Australia?” you laugh.

“No, there is. There’s business going on everywhere, you’d be surprised. I just haven’t had any jobs in Australia. Plus I…work for people who usually do their business in New York.”

“Makes sense.” You shuffle through the papers more and land on John’s birth certificate, and John lets out a small sigh. You look up at John and smile, “We met a few days after your birthday.”

“Did you just realize that, or just not know my birthday?” he laughs and you playfully slap his chest.

“No, I know your birthday, you ass!” you squint your eyes at John as he laughs. “Did you get anything good for your birthday this year?”

“You.” he smiles and you laugh loudly. “Actually, Jimmy got this weird face statue to put my glasses on.”

“You don’t wear glasses.”

“I didn’t have the heart to tell him, he was so proud of this thing.” he says and points over to the strange looking statue on the side table.

“He’s an odd gift giver, isn’t he?” you laugh and look down at the papers again then back at John, “This part is about your parents, not much information.”

“Yeah.” he says quietly, and you can hear the sadness in his voice.

You can see it hurts John that he doesn’t know anything about his family, and you can’t even begin to imagine how he feels. Reaching out to cup his face, he leans into the palm of your hand and closes his eyes for a moment, and you lean forward to kiss his forehead.

“That must be so hard. It must have been really hard growing up and not knowing your family.”

John nods slowly and exhales, “Yeah, it was.”

“Well, if you ever wanted to, we could look into finding them.” you say quietly and John opens his eyes to look at you. “I just want you to know that I’d be supportive either way. Whether you want to find them or not. I will fully support you, and I’ll be with every step of the way if you decide that’s what you want to do.”

“I don’t want to look for them.” he says as his eyes dart over your face, “I have my family now.”

You smile at John and feel yourself tearing up. He leans his forehead against yours and hands you a picture, and you gasp when you see it’s John as a baby. “Ooh, my god!”

“I have no idea how old I was.”

“Hmm, I'd say around nine months. You look the same age as Harper in this.” you hold the picture up next to John and he smiles. “Oh, my fucking god, I see it. This is literally the best thing I've ever seen. Please tell me there's more.”

“There's a few more,” he says and shuffles through the papers and holds up another picture. “I believe I was seven in this picture.”

You start to tear up a little and hold the picture up to John again, comparing the photo to his face. “I want to die, look at how cute you are. Look at your dorky little smile and your hair. Oh, my god, this is the best day of my life.”

John holds up another picture and laughs, “There's a few that were taken by a girl, she was big into photography–” John looks at you and shakes his head, “It wasn’t Helen, and we didn’t date or anything.”

You put your hands up in defense and laugh, “You went there, not me.”

“I think she liked me, but I wasn’t really interested in dating. It was just nice to have someone to hang out with sometimes.” John leans over to kiss you and laughs, “Please don't make fun of me.”

You already feel a laugh rising in your chest and when John hands you the picture, you bend over laughing until your eyes fill with tears. “You're kidding me? Look at you, you're so tiny. How old were you?”

“Mid to late twenties.” he says, leaning over to look at the picture with you. “Probably around your age actually.”

“Your hair was so short.” you say and run your fingers through his hair. “It’s weird to think that you had it really short for the Marines.”

“Yeah, I hated it.” he closes his eyes when you tug lightly on his hair. “I like it better this way.”

“I do, too. You are literally the most gorgeous man I have ever laid my eyes on, you know that?” you say and hold the picture up to John, “Literally, you have not aged at all.”

“I have.” he laughs and grabs another picture. “This girl in this picture was…my first time.”

“Okay, now that is adorable. How old were you?”

“I think I was around 17,” he says and looks at the picture. “I was so nervous.”

“Please, please, please, tell me about it.” you say, knowing damn well it’s going to be embarrassing.

John starts to laugh and looks up at you, “Well, I took her out to this restaurant. I thought I looked so good, I wore this suit that was way too big for me. And she looked very pretty, she was wearing a dress with flowers all over it. We drove down to the beach after dinner, and I laid a blanket down on the ground and…”

“Sex on the beach for your first time. John, how ambitious of you.”

John rolls his eyes and looks back at the picture. “Yeah, bad idea. There was sand everywhere and on top of it all, I lasted about 45 seconds.”

“45 seconds?” you begin to wheeze as John watches you. You try to stifle the laughter and cup John’s face. “That is so fucking funny. I mean, I’m sure it was a wonderful 45 seconds.”

“Hey, don’t laugh, I was nervous as hell. My hands were shaking so bad. I thought she was gonna laugh at me.”

You roll your eyes at John, still laughing hard, “Yeah right, you know damn well that your dick is huge. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“No, I mean because I didn’t last long.” he says, rubbing your thigh, “Young John Wick… didn’t last long.”

“Yeah, well, old John Wick doesn’t last that long sometimes either.”

John’s mouth drop open in shock and he laughs loudly, “Mean.”

“Hey, I’ll take it as a compliment.” you laugh and look back down at the picture. John has his arm around the girl’s shoulder and a fake smile is plastered on his face. “For it being your first time, you don’t look very happy in this picture.”

“This wasn’t my first time, this was after we were dating for awhile.”

“Oh, so, she was also your girlfriend?” you ask and look up at John.

“She was.” he says. You hand the picture back to John and he looks at it closely, sighing and shaking his head, “She was not very nice to me.”

“Oh, no.” you frown and lean over to kiss John’s forehead.

“She was controlling, and she wanted to marry me almost a month after dating.” he laughs, “I was 17 years old, why the hell would I want to do that? And honestly, I was a little sick of people trying to control me.”

“Well, obviously that didn’t happen.” you say, looking at John. “Unless you have another marriage you’re hiding from me.”

John playfully taps your leg and laughs, “Nope, she dumped me on the same beach that we had sex on.”

“Oh, tragic. I’ll kick her ass for being mean to you.” you say and put your fists up. You try not to laugh at John, but your body starts to shake from holding in your laughter. You cover your mouth and John looks up at you. “I’m so sorry, that’s terrible. I just can’t get over you only lasting 45 seconds.”

John tackles you to the bed and tickles you, “Yeah, I’m sure your first time was funny, too.”

“Oh, my first time was bad.” you say and John nods, waiting for you to tell him. “All you need to know is it was in the basement of a friend’s house, and all my friends listened to us. Well, listened to him. I was quiet back then.”

“Not anymore?” he smirks.

“Nope,” you lean up to kiss him, then flop back on the bed, “Anyway, Tess protected the door for the three minutes that it lasted. He came, and that was it.”

“That was it?”

“Not very satisfactory, I didn’t even…you know. I went home and cried in my mom’s bed for about three days straight. I didn’t really regret that I had sex, I just regretted that my first time was so bad. Then again, everyone’s first time is bad.” you say and lean up to kiss John, “Except with you.”

He laughs and lays down on top of you, “Our first time was pretty good, I’d say we both enjoyed ourselves.”

“It was really good -- amazing, actually. You definitely lasted longer than 45 seconds…maybe 47 seconds.” you tease and John laughs. “It was good though, I remember being so worried you were going to rip me in half.”

John jerks his hips a little and smiles, “Yeah, me too.”

You bite your lip, trying your hardest not to smile, “And the thumb thing you always do…”

John pulls you on top of him and licks his thumb, then slides his hand into your underwear, rubbing your clit slowly. “This?”

“Yes, that. Fuck.” you start to grind against John and close your eyes, but he removes his hand and moves you back to the bed as you try to catch your breath. You glare at John as you pull your nightgown down, “Such a tease.”

He starts to laugh and leans over to kiss you, “I grabbed your baby picture on the way back up. Look at your hair, it’s just stuck all up on top of your head and your cute little smile, you look so proud of your stuffed animals.”

You look over and see John holding your baby picture next to his, “Pretty cute. I really hope our kids look like you though.”

John looks up at you and you shrug, not knowing what to say when you realize it just slipped out. He nods and smiles, letting it go and you feel relief wash over you.

“You’re so damn cute.” John says and holds your picture up next to your face, “Look at your little smile. You look the same, too.”

“Pfft, yeah, right.” you laugh and shove John’s hand away.

John takes all the pictures and puts them on the side table. He looks over at you as you tuck your hair behind your ear and he points at your ring.

“Where did you get that?” he asks and takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your ring. “It’s beautiful.”

“I got it from Tess, it was my gift from her.” you say and curl up next John. “You like it? She made sure to get blue because it’s my favorite color, and because of this guy.” you tap Bleu with your foot and he looks at you.

“It’s really beautiful.” John says again and you take it off your ring finger, moving it to your middle finger.

“I can’t figure out which finger it feels best on.” you laugh and move it back to your ring finger. “I think it feels best here.”

“You should keep that finger free.” John frowns and you look up at him.

“Why?”

John tries to hide a smile, but he starts to laugh, “You know why.”

“Are you gonna make me Mrs. Wick anytime soon?” you ask and John laughs so loud, it echoes throughout the room. “Sorry, I’ll stop asking, but just know I’m waiting as patiently as I can. And when you do ask…it’s gonna be a yes.”

“Peach, it has to be a surprise. I can’t just do it. Will you marry me? What’s the fun in that? We’re just laying in bed.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” you crawl on top of John, hiking up your nightgown a little and John smiles wide.

“That wasn’t a proposal.” he shakes his head and cups your face. Leaning close to John’s face, you grind against him and he laughs. “It has to be special. You deserve something special.”

“Fine.” you run your hands up his chest and onto his biceps, “Your arms are so big. I want them wrapped around me all the time.”

John’s hands move up your thighs as you lean closer, kissing each other passionately. You begin grinding against John as he slowly bucks his hips under you, and you can feel his cock growing harder and harder.

“Wait...” he sits up and moves you back to the bed. He opens the door a crack and looks at Bleu, “Go lay down, boy.” Bleu hops off the bed and John watches as he walks out of the bedroom. “He can come back in after.”

“Oh yeah, definitely don’t want him in here for what I’m about to do to you.” you joke, wrapping your arms around John’s neck as he crawls on top of you. “He’s a good boy though, he protected me tonight.”

“I’m not surprised.” John presses kisses over your stomach as he lifts your nightgown up, “Wish he would have bit Matt’s face off. Bleu is too sweet for that though.”

“My boys protected me tonight.” you cup John’s face and smile sweetly, “Thank you again.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” he says and kisses you tenderly. He lifts you off the bed a little to take off his dress shirt that you’re wearing and his eyes grow wide, glued to your arm.

You look down to see the bruises that Matt left, and you gasp as you attempt to wipe them off like it's a temporary tattoo. You didn't realize that they were even there. Matt gripped you hard and you knew he was probably leaving behind bruises, but your dress had sleeves so you didn’t even think about checking. John sits up straight and gently rubs his thumb over it as he sighs loudly.

“I’m sorry.” he says and you watch as he leans down to kiss your arm. His lips are warm and soft, and you feel his tongue glide against your skin. You sit up and wrap your arms around John, and he pulls you tighter into his arms. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Let’s just forget about it for now.”

John holds your gaze as you kneel on the bed and lift your nightgown up a little as you pull your panties off. He lays down on his back, then he scoots to the center of the bed and kicks the blankets to the floor.

Your fingers wrap around the waistband of his boxers and you tug them off slowly, killing John with anticipation. Still keeping eye contact, you crawl on top of John and pull your nightgown over your head.

“I love you,” you run your fingers through John’s hair and cup his face, “I love you so much.”

You press your lips to John’s as he lays back on the bed, holding you tight to his chest. You lift yourself up a little and reach down between the two of you to slide his cock between your legs. Still keeping your lips pressed together, you roll your hips and John tilts his head back to moan. He bends his knees as he bucks his hips wildly, and the bed creaks incredibly loud to John’s horror.

“This is not going to work.” you laugh and look at John frozen in place.

He slides you back to the bed and sits up to pull on his boxers, “What are we going to do then? There’s no way we can just stop now.”

“Very flattering, Mr. Wick.” you wink, then look around the room as you think, “The basement?”

“The car?” he suggests and you quickly hop off the bed to put on your nightgown again.

“Of course you’d suggest that.” you laugh and lean up to kiss him.

“It’s only because it’s away from everyone.” he says, but you know it has nothing to do with that. John has told you before he wants to have sex in his car, and honestly, at this point, you’re down. He’s so sad about the events that unfolded tonight, and if this helps cheer him up a little, you’re more than happy to do it.

Holding tight to John’s hand, you both tiptoe through the house, and when you hear a noise coming from your bedroom, you freeze in place, “Oh, my god.”

“What?” John turns around, looking at you, then starts to laugh when he hears it too. “They’re having sex in our bed. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“We’ll just wash the sheets.” you jump into John’s arms, pressing kisses to his neck. “Or buy new ones.”

“I know, but it’s Jimmy and Tess.”

You cock up an eyebrow and look at John, “You’re telling me that if we stayed at their house for the night and I wanted to have sex, you wouldn’t fuck me in their bed?”

John opens his mouth to argue, then he nods, “You got me there.”

Still holding tight to you, John quickly walks out to the garage, turns on the light and quietly opens the driver side door. You hop off of him and he sits down, then taps his thighs, “Hop on.”

You carefully crawl into the car and onto John’s lap. He puts his hands behind you to stop you from bumping the horn with your ass and when you tap it a little, you both start to laugh. You finally get situated, and John slowly and carefully shuts the door.

He lifts your nightgown up and pulls it over your head, throwing to the passenger seat as your lips meet, desperately kissing each other. He reaches between the two of you to pull his cock free from his boxers and you sink down onto him as the two moan loudly.

“Oh, my god,” you say and feel John grabbing your ass, guiding you and moving you faster on his cock.

John’s hand slides up your chest and wraps lightly around your throat, “That feel good?”

“Mhm,” you suck on John’s thumb and he leans forward to pepper your chest with kisses. “You’re so hard for me tonight.”

“Well, you look beautiful tonight, and the way you were moving when we were dancing...”

“Almost came in your pants, didn’t you?” you laugh.

John starts to laugh and he looks up at you, “If I’m being honest, yeah. You’re kind of a huge tease.”

“You have no room to talk. You just stuck your hands in my pants, trying to get me off and then just stopped like it was nothing.” you say and John laughs again.

John reaches down and lays his seat back, and he smiles when you kiss over his chest and up to his neck. The two of you press your foreheads together as you moan breathlessly, and John groans loudly when you rotate your hips slowly.

“Peach, I’m sorry.”

Burying your face in the crook of John’s neck, you start to laugh, “Already?”

John pulls you back so he can see your face and gives you a small smile, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” you look down to where the two of you are connected, but since it’s pretty dark in the garage, you can’t see anything, “You can’t be done already. You didn’t even make…the face.”

“No, I just…I should have been there with you tonight.” he shakes his head and tilts it back against the seat to look at you.

“Baby, don’t. It’s over with.”

“Yeah, but if I had been there, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.” he says and you roll your eyes. You move to get off of him and he grabs your waist to keep you in place, “What are you doing?”

“John…” you sigh and sit up straight, “Listen, it happened. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

John frowns a little and he cups your face, “I know, but I still--”

“You still wish you could have been there, I get it. I’m okay though, isn’t that what matters?” you lean your forehead against John’s and he nods.

“Yeah, that’s what matters.”

“Are you going to keep bringing this up?” you ask, rubbing your thumb against his beard.

John starts to laugh, then shrugs, “Probably, but I won’t bring it up anymore tonight.”

“I’m fine with that. Now…fuck me.” you say, and you moan loudly as he starts bucking his hips frenziedly.

John moves you to bounce up and down on him, and you put your hand on the ceiling of the car to keep yourself from hitting your head. His hand trails up to your breast and he leans up, sucking on your nipple.

“You’re so wet tonight. Listen to the sounds you’re making.”

“Can you blame me? You looked fucking delicious all day.” you laugh and bite at John’s neck.

“It was so hard to keep my hands to myself today. Right before everything happened, I was gonna pull you into the backyard.”

“What were you gonna do to me in the backyard?” you ask, moaning in the crook of John’s neck. He pulls you back to make eye contact with you, and he smiles cheekily.

“I was gonna bend you over and fuck you as hard as I could. I was gonna rip that dress off of you and take you right in the backyard, listening to you moan my name.”

“Fuck,” you cry out and ride John faster as he begins to breath heavily.

You watch as he leans his head back against the seat, and you tighten around him as you feel him rubbing your clit with his thumb, bringing on your orgasms simultaneously. You tilt your head back and quickly cover your mouth with your hand, feeling a loud moan beginning to surface.

“Let me hear.” John says and moves your hand just as you let out an earsplitting moan.

Holding tight to each other, you ride out your orgasms, moaning and breathing loudly. You tuck your hair behind your ear and look at John as he pants, trying to catch his breath. The windows in the car have fogged over, and you start to laugh when you see your hand print on the window.

“I don’t remember doing that.”

“Wow.” John laughs and looks at you, still holding tight to your waist as he pulls his seat back up. “So…I make a face?”

“Yeah,” you cover your mouth as you laugh. “You always like…scrunch your eyebrows together and tilt your head back when you come. Sometimes you clench your jaw like you’re trying not to scream or something. Wish you would though, then I’d know I’m doing something right.”

John slaps your ass and laughs loudly, “Trust me, you’re always doing something right.”

You grab your nightgown and pull it back over you and nod to the door, “We should probably head back in.”

“Yeah.” he nods and watches you wince as you lift yourself off of him.

John opens the glove compartment and takes a few tissues, quickly wiping himself off, then he grabs more and pats between your legs. As quietly as you can, you open the car door and wait for John to fix himself.

He reaches out for your hand and peeks through the door, then looks at you, “I think we’re safe.”

You tiptoe through the living room and see the kitchen light is on. Peeking around the corner, you see Tess sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal.

“What is she doing awake?” you whisper to John and he peeks around the corner.

“Apparently she was hungry.” he walks past you heading for the kitchen, and you pull back him to you.

“What are you doing? You don’t have a shirt on, and you’re only in your boxers.” you point down and he laughs quietly.

John looks down at his boxers and shrugs, “I think she can control herself. She is a married woman after all.”

“I…” you blink at John a few times, and he walks into the kitchen and greets Tess.

“Hey, Tess. Can’t sleep?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water.

“Oh…uh,” she clears her throat and laughs, “No, I was starving. Jimmy is passed out and I thought I’d just come grab a bowl of cereal, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not. Eat whatever you want.” he says and from the glass on the oven, you see him lean against the counter. “There’s still some leftover food in the fridge and there’s cake as well.”

“Nah, I was craving cereal.” she says, holding up a box of sugary cereal, “I’m guessing she picked this cereal, you don’t seem like the type to eat this. You seem more like a healthy cereal type of guy. Lots of fiber, I bet.”

“Actually, I picked that, but yeah, she definitely picks out the cereal. She picks out a lot of our junk food.” he laughs.

“Excuse you,” you gasp as you walk into the kitchen, “You buy junk food.”

John looks at you over his shoulder and laughs, “Yeah, but you pick it out.”

“So, what are you two doing awake?”

You and John look at each other, and your cheeks start to burn as you shuffle in place. John takes a big gulp of water so he doesn’t have to answer and you roll your eyes at him. You look at Tess as she leans back in her chair, trying to look at John and his tattoos.

You walk over and sit down next to Tess, pulling your nightgown down when you remember you’re not wearing any underwear. You drum your fingers on the table to get Tess’ attention and she jumps.

“Huh?” she says and looks at you, “Oh, I was…wait, I mean, I couldn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t ask you anything.” you turn around and look at John as he finishes off his bottle of water, “Baby, come here.” John walks over and stands behind you, and you get up and point at the chair, “Sit down.”

“Okay.” John laughs and sits down.

You grab Tess’ hand, pulling her up to stand next to you, “There, now you can look.”

“What?” he says, turning around to look at you.

“Your tattoos. She wants to see them.” you say and look at Tess, “Don’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was trying to be subtle. I was going to wait until you invited us over to go swimming, but since your pool still isn’t filled…” she laughs and you push John forward so she can see his tattoos. She reaches out and brushes her fingers over the wolf on his right shoulder, “Your tattoos are amazing, John. Are you ever going to get more?”

John starts to laugh and shakes his head, “I don’t know. Depends.”

“Depends on what?” Tess asks.

“If we had a baby, I’d maybe get something.” he says and Tess looks over at you and smiles, nudging you and winking. John looks up at you and smiles, “I’d get a tattoo with you.”

“Matching tattoos, how corny. You know what, that’s cute actually. We always wanted to get matching tattoos, and Jimmy and I want to get one as well.” Tess says, still looking at John’s tattoos. “We should all go together and get one.”

You lean forward to look at John and smile, “You can get my face tattooed across your chest.”

John starts to laugh and shakes his head fast, “I love you, but I don’t want that.”

Tess furrows her brow in confusion, “You have two crosses, I didn’t realize you were...religious.”

John chuckles and looks over his shoulder, “I’m not.”

“Well, then why do have them?” Tess teases.

“I was young when I got all of these.”

Tess runs her fingers over the large cross in the middle of John’s back and she gasps loudly, “Jesus, John, this isn’t a tattoo.”

John looks up at you and frowns as you lean over to look at it with Tess. She looks up at you with tears in her eyes and puts her hand over her mouth.

“John, she’s speechless. We did it. We did the impossible.” you say, and John laughs quietly.

“Were you fucking…branded?” she asks, rubbing her fingers over the bumped up skin.

“Something like that.” he says quietly, and he reaches for your hand to pull you back to him.

“Exactly like that.” you say and you watch a tear slide down Tess’ cheek. John’s left hand slides between your legs and onto your knee, and he pulls you even closer.

“Well, I hate this.” Tess says and you move to hug her. “I hate this, John. And not to be weird, but I…want to kiss it and make it better. In a platonic way…if that’s possible.”

“I will!” you say happily and press your lips to John’s back, moving them up to the crook of his neck and he squirms away. “Ticklish.”

When you touch his shoulder, John instantly can tell the difference between Tess’ hand and yours, and he smiles at you over his shoulder. You sit down next to John at the table and watch as Tess continues looking at his tattoos. He props head on his hand, eyes darting over your face as the two of you look at each other.

Tess leans closer to get a better look at the cross in the middle of his back and finally notices the other scars littering his skin. She puts her hand over her mouth and looks at you with tears in her eyes.

“I know.” you whisper and look at her, smiling softly.

“John, baby, you are covered in scars.” she says, and John quickly turns around to look at her. She notices the scars on his chest and stomach, and she covers her mouth again with both hands as she gasps, “Oh, my god.”

“Oh no, not you too.” he laughs and stands up to hug Tess. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I cried the first time I saw them, too.” you say and watch Tess as she stares at them.

She looks at John’s stomach and frowns even more when she sees the splatter of scars, “I know about your job, well, barely anything about your job, but I just…I guess I never thought about it. You getting hurt like this.” she reaches out to touch a scar on his stomach and he flinches.

“Your hands are cold.” he laughs.

“How did you get this?”

“Ask my map.” he laughs and points at you.

“Uh,” you get up and point at John’s stomach, “I think this was the broken bottle, right?”

“Yeah.” John nods.

“And this one?” she points at a scar on his right side.

“A gun. Two bullets.” you say and Tess points at more, “Gun, knife, another knife, gun.”

Tess’ eyes scan over his chest and she sees a thick scar on his collar bone, “What about that?”

“Huh?” you stand on your tiptoes and look at it, “I don’t know about that one.”

“Knife.” John says, “Had to stitch it myself.”

“Oh, my god.” she wipes a tear off her face and looks at you, “How do you do this?”

“Well, I’m always in a constant state of worry when it comes to John,” you wrap your arms around John’s waist and press kisses to his chest. “But I haven’t had to worry about that lately since he hasn’t had a job in a while.”

“Which is still my choice, by the way.” John pulls your arms around him tighter and laughs, “I’m fine, Tess.”

“Listen, I’m blaming everything on this baby.” she starts to sob and she covers her face again.

“Should I start calling you too?” he asks as he laughs.

Tess starts to laugh and exhales loudly, “This is so stressful, and he’s not even my husband!”

John looks over at you and smiles, “Should we head to bed?”

“Yeah.” you nod and John picks you up bridal style as you squeal loudly, “John! I don’t have any underwear on.”

“Ooh, that’s why you two were awake.” Tess nods and brings her bowl to the sink, “Wait…where the hell were you?”

“His car.” you laugh and press a kiss to John’s face.

“You two are wild, let me tell you.” she says, shaking her head.

“Definitely not.” you say and John bounces you in his arms. “Also, don’t think we didn’t hear you and Jimmy about 45 minutes ago.”

“Well, I heard you two talking earlier in the bathroom, so consider it payback.” she blurts out, then covers her mouth when she looks at John, “Sorry.”

John leans closer to your ear and whispers, “She…she heard us?”

You try your best to push the laughs down, but you tilt your head back laughing loudly, “Yeah, she did.”

“We’re going to bed now.” John says, quickly turning around, heading for the guest room.

Tess follows you through the living room and stops at the steps, “Goodnight, you two. Love you.”

“Goodnight.” you and John say together.

“Love you.” you say, waving at her.

Tess laughs loudly as she starts her way up the stairs, “I can see your ass, by the way.”

__

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Sorry I’m so shit with tagging people. lmfao

[gvbejvmes]

Drabble: K-I-S-S-I-N-G (Pt 2)

Title: K-I-S-S-I-N-G -- The original ending Rating: R (For language mostly)  Relationship: Gabriel James/Jonathan Michaels (Trigger) Warnings: Mpreg, referenced spousal abuse, alcohol abuse, major character death, parents have sex lives, too.  Brief Summary:  First comes marriage. Then comes love. Then comes a baby in a male uterus. Wait. What?  Notes: This was how K-I-S-S-I-N-G was supposed to originally end. In the beginning this was going to be a part of the Mother’s Day bi-weekly task. Then it grew into this monster.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

His head hurt, and he felt woozy. Just how much had he drank the night before? Wait. No. That didn’t make sense. He couldn’t drink right now. Wait... Why couldn’t he drink right now? He swore he knew the answer to that, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

He should ask Johnny. Wait. Didn’t they kick him out of the room?

His eyes flew open, and he tried to sit up, only to flail and fall back onto the bed when he realized he was wearing an oxygen cannula. 

“Fuck, Briel.” And Johnny was setting his coffee down on the rolling table, and all but pushing Gabe back against the pillows. “Of course you wake up in the five minutes I ran downstairs.” He pressed a kiss against his forehead. “You scared the shit out of me, baby. Do you know how terrified I was to come home and find you passed out on the bathroom floor? I thought I lost you.” And he was practically sitting on the bed with Gabe now, hand brushing against his forehead.

As he took the information in, there was just something about it that didn’t seem to sit right with him. It didn’t make sense. That’s not how he remembered getting to the hospital. Wait. Was he at the hospital? He glanced around the room, at the IV in his arm, at the fluids dripping into his bloodstream. Okay, he was at the hospital. The only thing he didn’t remember was why he was at the hospital. Then it hit him.

“What happened to the baby?” And his voice sounded like crap. How long had he been out for?

Johnny gave him a weird look. “The baby?” And that was the look he made when he was trying to figure out if Gabe was still asleep but talking or freshly awake and just not making sense. Then his eyes widened in recognition before he grabbed the watcher pitcher and poured Gabe a cup of water. “Oh! The dog. Here, drink this.” He waited until Gabe took a sip and he put the cup back before continuing on. “If the dog was warming up to me, he’s not warming up to me any more. He was laying on your stomach when I got home. I think he was trying to get you to throw up. He nearly took my hand off when I tried to get to you. I had to lock him in the guestroom, but I called Dusty to let him out and look after George for a couple of days.”

Before Gabe could tell him that wasn’t what he meant, the doctor came into the room. “Oh, Mr. James-Michaels, you’re awake. Your partner was worried about you.” And the way he said it made Gabe automatically assume that he’d been subject to a long rant about what rights Johnny was privy to as Gabe’s spouse. He was pretty sure he even remembered part of it.

“Husband. We’re legally married.” They corrected in unison. That had been one of the pains about moving to New York. Sometimes their marriage was recognized and sometimes it wasn’t. It was annoying as hell. It was getting better now that Governor Paterson had issued his directive, but there were still kinks that needed to be worked out within the system.

The doctor ignored their correction. “I don’t know if you remember anything about when you came in.” The doctor was logging onto the computer and looking at Gabe’s chart. “You were in and out of consciousness. I’m Dr. Swanson. Do you remember what happened?”

He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Not really.” He admitted quietly.

Dr. Swanson nodded. “Understandable. Your body went through a severe trauma. Your brain may be protecting you from remembering what happened. I thought we were going to lose you for a second there.” He looked up at Gabe, giving him his full attention. “I haven’t seen an allergic reaction as severe as yours for a very long time. Your whole esophagus was inflamed and almost swollen shut. If your dog hadn’t been forcing your body to contract, you wouldn’t have made lasted until your-” He struggled to find the right word. "gentleman arrived. He said the dog is a new addition to your..." Again the  doctor couldn't seem to find the right word. "family?"

Gabe couldn't help but to exchange a look with his husband before nodding. "Yeah, he followed me home one day. He already had his shots, but wasn't chipped. We put out notices, but no one claimed him." He wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this.

"You're especially lucky then that the dog who decided to follow you home appears to have service dog training, which is also likely why he wasn't claimed." The doctor went back to noting something in Gabe's file. "When dogs fail out of a service program, they're often adopted by staff or taken to a shelter. It looks like the dog found you instead of a shelter. The fact that it looks like he was being trained as a seizure or allergy dog also worked out for you. God was smiling down on you, Mr. James-Michaels."

He couldn't control the grimace at the doctor's choice of words. "Funny. That would probably be the first time." He froze as he thought about what the doctor had just said. "Wait, you keep talking about allergies. As far as I know, I'm not allergic to anything."

Johnny brushed his hand through his hair. "Remember that almond tea I got you?" And he looked absolutely guilt-ridden which made no sense to Gabe unless...

"I'm allergic to nuts?" He asked the doctor in complete confusion.

Dr. Swanson nodded. "That's what it appears like. We're going to want to keep you overnight for observation. And I'm going to put in a referral to your primary to run a skin allergy panel once your skin heals. There's some pretty extensive swelling and hives on your chest. I've prescribed steroids that should help." He looked at Gabe, as though he couldn't believe that this was the first time this had happened. "You've never had a reaction to nuts in the past?"

Gabe shrugged. "My sister had a severe nut allergy, and if she couldn't eat anything I didn't out of solidarity." He tried to think if he'd tried anything with nuts since her death, but he was a purest when it came to chocolate. And he preferred sour candy. His sweet tooth mostly extended to ice cream and soda. "I think it was just habit after she died to not eat any nut product other than peanut butter." He blinked. "Doc, a severe reaction like that, can it cause hallucinations or vivid dreams?"

"Sometimes." The doctor stood. "We also had you on some pain medication when you first came in. Someone will check on you later. Try to rest, and remember, no nuts."

And it was probably the worst thing the homophobic doctor could have said. "Roger that. The only nuts going into my mouth from now on are my husband's."

Johnny's hand froze. "Gabriel." And it looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh out loud.

The doctor blanched, but didn't say anything before leaving the room.

Once he was gone, his husband started laughing. "Well, it looks like you're feeling better." He continued to run his hand through Gabe's hair. "What was your dream about? The one you just asked the doctor about."

Gabe's eyes started to drift shut, exhaustion washing over him. "The future."

[insideoutstory]

Inside Out → Chapter Fourteen

summary: Christine’s calm afternoon with Eleven is interrupted by the boys, who are anxious to share what they learned from Mr. Clarke. word count: 5.3k warnings: N/A

[ masterlist ]   [ FF.net ]

Will Byers’ funeral was a subdued affair. For someone who was so often picked on, there was quite the turn out. Hawkins Middle School had adjusted their schedule to a half-day to give students and teachers time to pay their respects. Mr. Clarke was in attendance, along with about half the students in his class. Half of them weren’t even dragged by their parents. 

The high school hadn’t closed, of course. But that didn’t stop most from skipping, swearing that they needed time to grieve. Somehow they must’ve gotten lost on their way to the cemetery. The only teenagers standing around Will’s grave were Jonathan, Nancy and Christine. 

Christine was doing her best to keep her distance from Nancy, but it was difficult with Dustin and Mike standing next to each other. The only thing separating her from her friend was Claudia Henderson, who’d been kind enough to stand on Christine’s right and was oblivious to the tension passing over her head. Christine and Nancy only made eye contact once. Christine was thankful for their silent understanding. Nothing they had to say to each other would be said here. It wasn’t the time or place for the petty arguments they were clinging onto. 

As soon as the service was over, Nancy walked off with her parents. She didn’t give Christine a second glance. 

Christine knew that she had a limited time window, but her conversation with the boys the day before was still nagging at her. She jumped on the line that was feeding past Mr. and Mrs. Byers. It seemed like Mr. Byers was doing most of the talking, shaking hands and accepting condolences. Mrs. Byers had her arms wrapped around her torso, just staring out into space. Everyone was giving her a wide berth, either out of respect or their own reservations. What did you even say to a woman who had lost her son? 

She’d been so caught up wondering that she didn’t prepare anything to say. Before she knew it, she was shaking hands with Will’s dad, then standing in front of Mrs. Byers. She hadn’t even noticed that Jonathan was there too. She wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised. 

“Hi,” Christine said lamely. “Uh…” 

There were so many questions she wanted to ask. There were so many assurances she wanted to give. But what if she was wrong? What if Will hadn’t been talking to his mom? Or he had, but it had been a mom from a different dimension? What if after everything, all her proof, they couldn’t get Will back anyhow? What if she failed, and Will was lost all over again? What good was reassurance then? 

Jonathan and his mother were both staring at her. 

“Um…I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you,” Mrs. Byers managed, nodding weakly. 

“Will…he’s a really…he was a really smart kid. And I know how much his friends love him, and how much they want him back. So if you need anything…um…I guess just—just let me know.” 

She was realizing rapidly that this was a terrible idea. She couldn’t even look Will’s mother in the eye, not with everything she knew. She should have gone straight home to Eleven. That was the best thing she could have done for Will. 

Mrs. Byers was squinting at her thoughtfully. 

“Sorry, you’re…You babysit Dustin, right? Chelsea…?” 

“Christine,” she and Jonathan corrected at the same time. Mrs. Byers mumbled an apology, which Christine waved off. “And Dustin and I are just friends. He uh…he hates it when I say babysitter.” 

Mrs. Byers smiled as warmly as she could have, nodding fervently. “No, I know. I know. Will used to be the same way with Jonathan. He always said he was too old for a babysitter, that…that he didn’t n-need anyone to watch him…” 

Christine panicked as the woman’s voice broke. Thankfully, Jonathan stepped in. 

“Hey, Christine, thanks. For the flowers.” 

He nodded to one of the wreaths near Will’s pristine new headstone. Hers stuck out amongst the roses and the white lilies, a rainbow of assorted flowers from yellow daisies to blue hydrangeas to purple pansies. Christine smiled. 

“Oh, yeah. My dad ordered them from Atlanta, but I helped him pick them out. We thought the service might need some…I don’t know. Color.”

She felt awkward saying it. The thought sounded so bad out loud. But Mrs. Byers smiled again. 

“He would like those,” she said confidently. “The colors. Just—Just like his crayons. Thank you, Christine. Really. Thank you.” 

She patted Christine on the arm. It was a brief motion, and she quickly wrapped her arms around her torso again. Like if she let go for too long her whole chest might fall apart. Jonathan stepped up to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He nodded to Christine too, half gratitude and half dismissal. 

Mortified but also relieved, Christine broke off from the crowd. She made for her bike, parked by the road next to the Hendersons’ car. Claudia rolled down her window to speak. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the reception, Christine?” she asked. “You can ride with us if you’d like.” 

“No, I’m okay.” Christine clambered onto her bicycle. Her black dress was making it harder than usual. “I think I just…I want to call my dad. Talk to him for a while.” 

Claudia laid a hand on her chest. “Oh! Alright, sweetheart. Take your time. But check in with me later, won’t you? I worry about you over there.” 

“I will, Claudia. Thanks.” 

Mr. Henderson started the car, and Christine caught Dustin’s eye in the back seat. He gave her a thumbs up, looking much too chipper to be leaving a funeral. Christine suppressed an eye roll, and gave him a salute. Plan in motion. 

It wasn’t much of a plan, she reflected as she biked back to her house. As far as she knew, the boys hadn’t figured out what they were going to say to Mr. Clarke, or how they were going to covertly get information about navigating different dimensions. The plan started with “attend the reception” and ended with “talk to Mr. Clarke.” 

At least Christine’s part of the plan was easy. All she had to do was go home and hang out with Eleven. 

Christine parked her bike behind the house, then jogged up the back stairs. She knocked twice on the back door, then three times in quick succession. It swung open almost immediately. Eleven had clearly been waiting in the hallway for her. 

Despite all of Christine’s coaxing, El hadn’t wanted to change since her makeover. She was still wearing the dated pink dress, and had grown protective over her blonde wig. Christine hadn’t even been able to get her to swap her green and yellow striped tube socks. 

“Late,” Eleven scolded as Christine locked the door behind her. “Sorry. I stopped for snacks. Or do you not want these?” 

She reached into the grocery bag hanging from her arm, and unearthed the box of Eggos she’d gotten from the store. Eleven’s glare vanished, though she was still pouting grumpily. Without words, it clearly read: “Fine. You’re off the hook. For now.” 

Christine grinned, and nodded down the hall. “Come on. You put on the music, and I’ll put on your waffles.” 

The Stranger was playing again when she brought the plates into the living room. Eleven had resumed her place in front of the radio, watching the wheels of the cassette go round with fascinated attention. She swayed back and forth, and Christine smiled. 

“You know, you don’t have to put this on just cause I like it. There are like a hundred cassettes there. My favorite doesn’t have to be yours.” 

El turned to give her a curious look, which was instantly swept away by the waffles. She scrambled over to the couch, taking a seat at the table Christine had set up for her. Her brown eyes sparkled as they landed on the plate with four waffles, twice as high as Christine’s. She snatched the top off the stack. It was already half gone when Christine returned from the kitchen. 

“Okay, I know you probably just want to scarf them down plain. But just in case you change your mind, I’ve brought you some additional options.” 

Christine laid out the syrup, powdered sugar and whipped cream on her table. It was incredibly amusing to watch Eleven stare each of them down. She counted the toppings, then counted the waffles on her plate. Three toppings. Three and a half waffles. Her nose was already scrunched in distaste, but she surprised Christine with a tentative nod. 

“Wow. Alright, let’s try a little adventure.” 

Christine held up the syrup. She popped the cap and squeezed a small pool onto her own plate. Then she held up her waffle and dipped it into the liquid. Warily, Eleven copied her motions. The syrup she poured onto her plate could barely qualify as a drizzle, but she managed to get some onto the waffle. She took the tiniest nibble. Her nose wrinkled again, and she shook her head wildly. 

“No.” 

“Really? Why not?” 

“Sweet. Too sweet.” 

“It’s too sweet? You’re a kid. You’re supposed to love sweet things and rot your teeth out.” 

Eleven pointedly wiped the rest of the syrup off her plate with a napkin, and Christine sighed. 

“Okay. Your loss.” 

Next they tried the powdered sugar. Christine tapped the shaker over her waffle. Eleven liked the way the sugar fell, and analyzed the patterns inside the little square divots, but she was reluctant to try it on her own. Shaking it over the top meant sacrificing an entire waffle to the experiment. 

“Come on,” Christine coaxed. “Just try it.” 

She took a bite out of her own, so overzealous that the waffle tipped and hit her in the nose. The powdered sugar promptly covered her face, and Eleven burst in to giggles. Christine did her best to wipe it off, shooting Eleven a mischievous smirk. 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” 

She reached over and wiped the powder on El’s nose. The girl recoiled, but was still smiling as she wiped it away. It looked more like she was worried about getting her dress dirty than getting the sugar on her face. She was more careful than Christine when she bit into her waffle, making sure to lean out over her plate. She successfully avoided hitting herself in the face, but didn’t seem to care much for the taste. Her response amounted to a halfhearted shrug as she licked the sugar off her fingers. 

“Fine,” Christine sighed dramatically. “One more, and I will let you eat your plain, boring waffles in peace.” 

If she’d thought El was fascinated by the powdered sugar, it was nothing compared to her reaction to whipped cream. Her eyes nearly bugged from her head as she watched the cream blossom from the can. Christine proudly scooped it up onto her waffle, taking a victorious bite. It didn’t really matter. Eleven was still staring transfixed at the plate. 

“Pretty cool, huh? Here. Gimme your finger.” 

Eleven was hesitant, but held up one finger at her request. Christine gently maneuvered her wrist, flipping it so her fingertip was out, then squirted some whipped cream into her hand. El jumped at the cold contact. 

“And then we eat it,” said Christine, spraying some onto her own hand. “See?” 

She stuck her finger in her mouth, licking off the cream and motioning for Eleven to do the same. Her eyes stayed wide as she considered the flavor and, a moment later, she held out her finger for more. 

“Ha ha,” Christine chuckled triumphantly. “Gotcha.” 

She gave Eleven some more whipped cream, then handed her the whole canister. She had to talk her through how to operate the nozzle, which kept taking her by surprise every time she used it. Christine thought it was a mistake the first two times she ended up with whipped cream on the entire waffle. By third, she realized Eleven must’ve been doing it on purpose. It was an alarming amount of sugar, but Christine made no move to stop her. She was a deprived kid, after all. She had every right to rot her teeth out. She just hoped it wouldn’t result in some crazy, superpower-driven sugar high that would take her house down. 

“What is favorite?” Eleven asked, after she had devoured every crumb of the waffles. 

“Hm. I guess it just means like you like something, more than you like anything else. Like the waffle toppings.” Christine pointed to the bottles on the table in turn. “You didn’t like the syrup. You thought the sugar was okay. You really liked the whipped cream. So that one’s your favorite. But my favorite is this one.” 

She grabbed the syrup, and poured it over what was left of her waffles. El was still watching her curiously. 

“So favorite…is for food?” 

“It can be for anything. You’ve worn a lot of different clothes now, right? Mike’s sweatshirt, my T-shirt. But if I had to guess, I’d say this dress is your favorite. Or music. I listen to a lot of different music, but this album’s my favorite. And after you listen to a lot of music, you’ll find your favorite too.” 

“I understand,” said Eleven, nodding to herself. 

Christine stacked up their plates, and did her best to contain a smirk. 

“You know, sometimes we have favorite people too. The people we like best, who are the most important to us. Do you have a favorite person, Eleven?” 

Eleven’s eyes went as wide as they had when she saw the whipped cream. In a panic, she shook her head. She had to grab at the wig as it almost slid out of place. Christine probably should have worked harder to contain her giggles. 

“Woah! Hey, it’s okay. I’m just teasing you, see?” She stuck out her tongue, and Eleven relaxed slightly. Still, Christine smirked. “It’s fine. Anyway, I know it’s Mike.” 

El blushed, and quickly hid her face behind her blonde hair. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I think you’re probably Mike’s favorite person too. In fact, I know you are.” 

“Who is yours?” 

Christine was taken aback. But El was looking up at her, sporting a very small smirk of her own. It didn’t even waver as Christine laughed in disbelief. 

“Alright, you wanna see my favorite person? Hold on.” 

She patted the couch, and quickly got up to go to her room. When she returned, it was with her yearbook in hand. She plopped down next to Eleven, motioning for her to scoot closer. Then she opened the book and began thumbing through the pages. 

 “E, F, G, and…there he is.” 

Steve Harrington was the center of everything he was a part of. His grade, the basketball team, even his own yearbook page. He smiled out at them with a perfect smile, his hair fluffy and gorgeous and his eyes shining. Christine noticed with a jolt that he was wearing the same green sweater he had at the party. It was criminal how good it looked on him. 

Eleven ran her fingers over the page, scrutinizing his photo. “Pretty?” 

“Uh, yeah. I guess. Pretty hot.” 

“…hot?” 

Christine winced, unable to meet Eleven’s inquisitive gaze. “Yeah, it just means uh…it’s like pretty, but usually when a guy…I think…yeah, I’ll just…explain that some other time.” 

She wasn’t sure Eleven even noticed her reluctance. She was too interested in the yearbook. With curious hands, she pulled the book closer. She flipped through the pages on her own, running her fingers over the pages each time. Cheerleaders, football games, science fairs, faculty. All of it she took in with the same captivation. Christine wasn’t even sure she was looking for anything until she stopped. 

“Chrissy.” 

 Eleven tapped on the old picture of Christine. She’d tried to blow her hair out into big banana curls, which had already fallen out by the time they’d gone to the gymnasium for their photos. She was grinning painfully, one of her dad’s flannels draped over her T-shirt. 

 “Ugh,” Christine winced with a dry laugh. “That is not a good picture of me. Forgot how much I hated that one.” 

“Pretty,” Eleven assured her, almost sounding concerned. 

“Well, thank you. But ‘pretty’ is probably just Nancy. See?” Christine pointed the next row down at Nancy’s perfect headshot. “Her mom always does her hair on picture day, and she’s a lot better with makeup than I am. She…always looks great.” 

“Pretty too,” Eleven agreed. She rubbed the image of Nancy’s pink cardigan longingly, then looked up to Christine again. “Barb?” 

“Sure, uh…here.” 

They flipped back a few pages until Christine could locate Barb’s picture. She knew Barb hated it as much as she disliked her own. But she didn’t harp on it like Christine did. She’d just shrugged and thrown the pictures into her bag. 

“Ugh, remind me not to wear red next year. That’s another one for the books.” 

And that had been the end of it. 

“Pretty?” Eleven asked from Christine’s side. 

“Yeah. Maybe not to most, but…Barb was pretty. Inside and out.” 

“Pretty…inside?” 

“Yeah. She was a good person. She was funny, caring, loyal to a fault. Barb was…is one of my best friends.” 

Eleven frowned, her fingers stilling over the picture. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be,” Christine assured her. “Wherever she is, it’s not your fault.” 

“Really sorry.” 

Together they stared down at Barb’s picture, the freckles and pink cheeks behind her big glasses. Christine hated this. She hated not knowing where Barb was. She hated that she’d been so wrapped up in the rest of the drama that she hadn’t even noticed she was missing. She hated that people were already feeling sorry for her. That she was already beginning to think of Barb in the past tense. But Barb had to be out there. If Will could be alive, so could she. Barb was the smartest, most grounded person she knew. If anyone was practical enough to survive the jump to another dimension, it was her. 

Christine sniffled away the tears that had welled in her eyes. 

“You know, it’s kinda messed up that your dad taught you what the word ‘pretty’ meant, but not how to tell time. How about we work on that, huh?” 

They passed the next hour or so looking at clocks, Christine pointing out the minute and hour hands while Eleven practiced counting by fives. It wasn’t long before the boys arrived. There were no neatly parked bikes, or secret knocks. Just three blurs of dress shirts and ties flying past her windows and then pounding on the back door. Christine wrenched it open before Mike could manage a dent. 

“Does the word ‘incognito’ mean anything to you?” 

“We talked to Mr. Clarke!” 

It was all the answer she got before the boys pushed past her, darting into the living room. She suppressed a groan as she shut the back door and locked it once more. By the time she’d followed them into the house, Mike was already pacing, Lucas slinging his tie across the back of the armchair, and Dustin spraying whipped cream into his mouth. 

“Just make yourself at home,” Christine grumbled. She kicked Dustin out of his seat and reclaimed her place on the couch. 

“So we talked to Mr. Clarke,” Mike repeated excitedly. “And we asked him about the Upside Down.” 

“Were you at least subtle?” asked Christine. 

“Totally,” Lucas assured her with a wink. “We told him it was all hypothetical.” 

Christine didn’t bother pointing out that everything was hypothetical when discussing theoretical physics. Mike was already rushing on. 

“So at first, he was talking about all the different parallel universes—like you were talking about with the magazine, Chrissy. And he thought we were asking because we wanted closure or whatever. To know that Will was okay in another universe. So then we had to tell him that wasn’t what we were talking about, and that we meant a shadow world like the Upside Down.” 

“Did you know that Mr. Clarke plays D&D?” Dustin interjected. “I asked him if he knew what the Vale of Shadows was, and he just started spitting textbook definitions at me. It was awesome.” 

“Anyway,” Mike continued firmly, “then we asked him how we would travel there, and he said that we couldn’t because we were a tightrope walker, and if we wanted to travel between dimensions, we needed to be the flea.” 

Christine and Eleven both blinked at him. Mike groaned, picking up the discarded marker from the day before. He flipped through the same magazine until he found an article that was mostly text space, and began to draw. 

“So he said that our world is like a tightrope, because there’s only certain ways you can move. We’ve got three dimensions here, and that’s it, right? But because a flea is built different than a human, they can go underneath the rope and it’s still like walking right side up. So it’s like the fourth dimension.” 

“Okay,” Christine said slowly. “So in this situation, El is the flea?” 

“We don’t know. Just because she can see the other side doesn’t mean she’s been there.” 

“Have you been there?” Lucas asked. 

Eleven did not answer, only shifted closer to Christine’s side. 

“It doesn’t matter,” said Mike, “because we know Will isn’t a flea. So if he’s in the Upside Down, there’s got to be a way for regular humans to get through too. Now Mr. Clarke said that it was almost impossible, but…” 

“Theoretically,” Lucas added. 

“…you could tear through time and space to push the dimensions together.” 

Mike ripped the page out of the magazine and folded it along the tightrope line. Then he took the end of the marker and stabbed through the paper. It crinkled and ripped, nearly tearing in half. Eleven shrunk closer to Christine, who frowned at the paper. 

“Okay. I still don’t know how that helps us navigate the infinite space between infinite dimensions.” 

“It doesn’t,” admitted Lucas. “But if the door’s already been open, we don’t have to. Right?” 

“If it is still open, I guess…” Christine reached forward, taking the magazine page from Mike and turning it over in her hands. “If you weren’t looking to open a door to someplace specific, if the only goal was to reach the fourth dimension, then that’s fine. But once the gate closed all the way, I don’t know how you’d get it to open to the same place again. So the only chance we’d have is finding exactly where and how Will went through.” 

“How do we do that?” asked Lucas. 

“Triangulate people who’ve gone missing maybe? All we know for now is that it’s somewhere around Mirkwood. Maybe Steve’s house, if Barb…” 

The sentence went unfinished. Christine had never been more grateful for Mike than when he eased the paper out of her hands. He gave her a very small, but very brave smile, and turned to plead to Eleven. 

“It would take a lot of energy to build a gate like this. But that’s gotta be what happened. Otherwise, how’d Will get there, right?” 

“R-Right,” Eleven stammered. 

“What we wanna know is,” Lucas began, “do you know where the gate is?” 

Eleven nervously shook her head. 

“Then how do you know about the Upside Down?” he demanded. 

“Hey, chill, Lucas,” Christine soothed. “It’s like Mike said. Maybe she can see the bottom of the rope, but not go there. Like…I don’t know. A tightrope walker with a mirror or something.” 

“A mirror for what?” 

“So she can see under the rope.” 

“Why would a tightrope walker need to look under the rope?” 

“I don’t know, Lucas! It’s a damn metaphor! Work with me here!” 

“Dustin?” 

Mike’s voice interrupted their argument, and everyone turned around. Dustin had abandoned with whipped cream and was standing in the front hall spinning on the spot. He was looking at something in his hand, and every few seconds, he would start spinning the other way. 

“What are you doing?” Mike asked. “Dustin?” 

“Dustin!” Christine’s voice snapped him to attention, and he wobbled on the spot as he looked up. “Care to share with the class?” 

“Do you have a compass?” 

“…do I have what?” 

“A compass! I need all of your compasses, right now!” 

“Why would we have…?” 

But Mike and Lucas were running to their bags. Mike pulled out two, Lucas three, and they put them on the table that had previously held Christine and Eleven’s waffles. Christine had to dive to stop Dustin from swiping the plates onto the floor. 

“Dude,” she scolded, but he just looked at her expectantly. 

“Well? Where’s yours?” 

“My compass? I don’t know, Dustin. I don’t think we have one.” 

“You don’t have a compass?” Mike asked, as if he’d been asking about a refrigerator. 

“No, Michael, I don’t have a compass. When the hell would I use it? If I need to get somewhere, I use a map.” 

All three of the boys exchanged incredulous looks. Dustin finally held up his hands. 

“Okay, we need to have a serious talk about your party survival kit, Christine, but it’ll have to wait.” 

“Why? What are we looking at?” 

“The compasses,” said Dustin, placing his own among the pile. “They’re facing North, right?” 

“Yeah, so?” asked Lucas, who seemed supremely disinterested. 

“Well, that’s not true North.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Mike. 

“I mean exactly what I just said,” said Dustin emphatically. “That’s not true North.” 

“Oh my God…” Christine gaped down at the table, checking the compass needles. “Dustin…Dustin, you’re a genius!” 

“Why is he a genius?” Lucas complained. “What do you see?” 

“Are you both seriously this dense?” Dustin complained. He jabbed a finger out the window. “The sun rises in the East, and it sets in the West, right? Which means that’s true North.” 

“So what you’re saying is the compasses are broken,” Mike finished. 

Christine and Dustin rolled their eyes in unison. 

“What? All six of them?” she asked. 

“Come on, dude,” Dustin added. “Do you even understand how a compass works? Do you see a battery pack on this?” 

“No…” 

“No, because it doesn’t need one!” 

“Then why is it broken?” Lucas insisted. 

“It’s not broken,” said Christine. “It’s being influenced.” 

She held up a finger, running through the kitchen to get to the garage. 

Most garages were full of toolkits and auto parts, and boxes upon boxes of heirlooms and junk. In the Walcott’s garage, there wasn’t much to see. They’d moved too much when she was young to accumulate unnecessary stuff. There was a neat row of boxes against one wall, and a light stain on the floor where her dad’s car was sometimes parked. On the opposite wall was a pristine work station of screwdrivers and handsaws. Her father had only used it a handful of times since they moved it, but he said it made him feel more secure. More often, Christine was using it to run science experiments for the school fair, or tinker with her radio to get a wider array of channels. 

She grabbed a meter stick off the back wall and a magnet from one of the drawers, then darted back inside. 

“Dustin, compass,” she ordered, slamming her supplies onto the dining room table. 

All four of the kids hurried into the room. Dustin slid his compass across the table, which Christine caught and placed in the middle of the meter stick. 

“So compasses function based on the natural magnetic field of the Earth. When they’re built, the needle is manufactured with a charge that allows one side to be attracted to the magnetic North.” 

“True North,” Dustin added gleefully. 

“But a compass can be affected if additional magnetic fields are introduced to the environment. Get big enough, strong enough, or close enough, and the measurement will have an increasing margin of error.” 

She tapped the compass face, then slowly began to slide the magnet along the meter stick. As they watched, the red point of the needle tremored and swiveled toward her approaching hand. The closer she got, the more it turned, until it had completed an even ninety degree turn. 

“See?” Dustin exclaimed. “In the presence of a more powerful magnetic field, the needle deflects to that power!” 

“How did you even learn this?” Lucas asked. 

“Physics lab,” Christine said with a shrug. 

“Library book,” Dustin answered, “but that’s not important. Remember what Mr. Clarke said? If there was a gate, it would have so much power…” 

“It could disrupt the electromagnetic field,” Mike finished breathlessly. “That’s genius.” 

“Wait,” said Lucas. “You mean that if we follow the compasses’ North…?” 

“They should lead us to the gate,” Dustin affirmed. 

Christine sank into one of the chairs, staring down at the compass. She couldn’t help the expression of grave horror that snuck up on her face. 

“What is it?” Mike asked nervously. “This is good, right? Now we can find Will.” 

“Yeah, we can,” she agreed. “I’m just…I guess it’s starting to sink in how…colossally in over our heads we are. I mean…a magnet that can affect compasses like this…I mean, that’s a hundred and seventy-degree error…that’s a massive field…” 

“One big magnet,” Dustin agreed darkly. 

“Well—Well obviously, right? So what?” Mike’s voice shook despite his words of optimism. “It’s a tear in time and space, of course it’s gonna be big. But we still need to find Will. We have to get him back to the gate.” 

“We need to bring him home,” said Lucas assuredly. 

Dustin still looked hesitant. “So…what do we do?” 

There were several seconds of silence. It took a few more before Christine realized everyone was looking at her. She’d expected Mike to slam his hands on the table and start handing out orders, or Lucas to argue with Dustin that there were no questions while Will was in danger. But all four kids were looking to her now, each as apprehensive as the next. 

Christine didn’t want to march them into a tear in time and space. But they couldn’t talk to any adults, and they couldn’t talk to the cops. Even if they weren’t hunting Eleven, who would believe them? They were five kids rambling about alternate dimensions, and time was of the essence. 

They were in over their heads. But as Christine remembered Mrs. Byers’ broken voice from that morning, her only option became clear. 

“Well first you’re all going home to change. I’m not taking you on a hike to find an interdimensional portal while you’re in dress pants and ties.”

[el-and-hop]

When Autumn Leaves

Chapter 1: There’s A Lot of Hurt

[ao3] [prologue]

Pairing: Mileven AU

WC: 5.1k

Summary: The new kid in Hawkins is making El’s life miserable.

[A/N]: A Mileven AU. This is chapter 1 of probably many. I have no idea what I’m doing. 

It was cold in early October. Indiana was bracing for another brutal, lifeless winter.

A young girl, no older than thirteen, sat alone on the front steps of her porch, counting each school bus as it passed by. It was Monday morning, and her friend was supposed to be here. Twelve minutes ago. She could feel her breath getting warmer and her fingers digging into her knees.

Slowly rocking back and forth, she began to scan her surroundings. It was a technique her father taught her whenever she felt another attack creeping its way in.

The front porch was normal. White railings, brown floorboards, a swing on one corner with worn, faded yellow seat cushions on one side and bare metal on the other. It sat in the corner, and, on the opposite side of the porch, sat two wooden chairs, mismatched and slightly rotting with a small coffee table resting between them.

It was used more as a footrest than a coffee holder, but the name explains the stains of circles that surround the edge close to the larger of the two chairs. You wouldn’t guess that it had seen death and heartache and love and warmth, not at least by how it looked. Any other resident of Hawkins would laugh at the table, but they weren’t the one using it, now were they?

The warm hue of the floorboards on the porch mixed and, when the sun was right, matched with the two pumpkins that sat on the edge of the stairs to the heavy wooden front door. Neither were carved, yet, out of fear of rotting, so they sat idly there. It would be a week before halloween when they were cut open, their innards spooned out, and their faces sawed on. But today, they sat without care for tomorrow.

The only thing that held on to the traditional aesthetic of Hawkins was the yellowish glow of the tin lamp as it swayed above the doorbell. Back in 1860, the original owner had improperly installed a gas lighting system, and before he could turn off the hose the house was gone and his life destroyed. The structure of the house, of course, was rebuilt, the gas lamp now replaced with electric and fancy wire filaments.

“El?”

A small, slightly cracking voice called out and pulled El to the present. A boy, even smaller than his voice, had knelt down in front of her without her noticing. She could feel her chest moving in and out as the cold air dried her throat. The boy grabbed hold of her hands, removing their tight grip on her fingers had on her knees.

“You’re twelve minutes and fifty four seconds late, Will,” the girl whispered with more air than words. She stared at his eyes and studied their dark canyons.

“Jonathan’s car wasn’t starting so I had to bike here,” Will began, still kneeling before El. “You’re just having another panic attack.”

“That boy across the street,” El said, motioning to the house on the other side, “the one that I was telling you about? The one that moved in on Saturday? I think he’s going to school with us.”

“Well,” Will laughed, standing up, “we better get there before he does so you can keep stalking him.”

El stood up, grabbed the backpack that was resting beside her, and threw it at Will. Rather than hit him, though, it landed in the grass beside him.

“Hey, I’m not the one that wrote ‘he’s cute’ in your journal,” Will scoffed, mounting his bike.

“You’ll be head over heels for him too.”

Will rolled his eyes at her, and motioned for her to come along.

El, sighing, reached under the porch and pulled out her own bike.

In silence she mounted and rolled down the driveway, meeting Will at the end, and, like clockwork, they were off, only set to be a few minutes behind schedule.

The hallways were more crowded than normal, as the heavier winter coats had made their appearance earlier than expected. The groups of students huddled together and formed small circles to bring their body temperatures up from the brutal chill that was lingering outside.

El struggled to made her way down to her locker through the seemingly endless wave of knit hats and leg warmers. She was never one for heavy winter wear. More or less she loved layers, jeans with flannels, multiple jackets, gloves on gloves; anything that kept her from looking like a puffy version of the carpet floor at the arcade.

And since there were so many students in the halls, she cursed the fact that her locker was at the other end of the building from the main entrance. Slipping and sliding through the crowd after what felt like five minutes for a thirty second walk, she appeared at a clearing, right at her locker.

It was a sad locker. Her friend Max got lucky this year and was awarded a top locker, making her a queen amongst her peasant friends. El’s locker was at the bottom, a corner bottom, right next to the bathroom door. And the locker squeaked. Loud. She also had an “illegal” unlocking mechanism (a stack of small Post-it Notes stuck in the door) that kept her locker from doing the one thing its name implied while appearing to be 100% normal. It was the simple things that make life so much easier.

And normally she was in and out quickly.

But this day there was an issue.

The normally unoccupied locker above hers was currently occupied. And shit. It’s her neighbor.

He’s just as bundled up as everyone else in the hall: heavy coat, jeans, brown church shoes?, a striped polo tucked in, and dark brown hair that was fighting some kind of invisible straightening iron. He was holding a small slip of paper in his left hand, and with his right hand he was frantically spinning the lock to try and get it open. It’s not working.

El had two options, neither were ideal.

The first: forget her locker, avoid interaction, turn around, and make due for the first four periods until lunch when she could switch out her books.

The second: Help the poor boy.

But by some higher power right as El starts to flip an invisible coin in her head the boy with the frantic hair whips his locker open and all of the tense muscles in El’s body relax.

Realizing that she’d been staring at him, she pulls off her backpack a few lockers down and starts to fiddle with the notebooks inside. Don’t let him see me. Don’t let him see me.

But like wind he was gone without notice. And El took that as a green light to throw open her locker, shove in whatever looked important for the morning, knock the locker closed with her elbow, and sprint down the hall to first period.

History was first. It was a pointless class if El could be completely honest. She spent most of it doing her homework for Math (second period) and writing in her journal, which, luckily, looked close enough to notes that the teacher, Mr. Harold, didn’t bother her.

Sitting herself down in her unassigned signed seating, El slumped and didn’t feel like taking anything out of her bag. It was that kind of day.

“Wake up sleepy eyes,” came a voice from El’s left side. She turned her head and saw a redhead girl who still had her coat fully zipped. She already had her textbook and notebook on her desk and was clearly more awake than El was.

El sat up, stretched out her arms in front of her, and then reached down into her bag to pull out her journal. Something was off. The classroom was too quiet. El looked to her left and noticed that the chair that was normally occupied was empty and cold.

It was Dustin’s seat. And it had been for the last month and a half. El, Max, and Dustin sat together first period, second row, so that they weren’t the first prey of their slowly dying teacher. El could swear that the old man in the front of the room couldn’t see past the first row of desks. And that made life so much easier.

“Max,” El whispered to the girl sitting next to her. “Where’s Dustin?”

“I don’t know,” Max replied. “I just assumed he was with you.”

“Quiet, Mayfield,” the Mr. Harold said with just enough force to make El wonder if he was going to give himself a heart attack. Max rolled her eyes and open up her notebook to a fresh page.

El and Max were friends. No, they were sisters. With El living with her adoptive father and Max stuck with her abusive step-father, shitty step-brother, and aloof mother, they turned to each other for everything. Not that El didn’t have a great home. She had a father that loved her. And she had Max. On too many occasions did Max spend the night at El’s house. Enough times that Max has a permanent room there. They weren’t biological sisters, so the fact that they act like it makes their bond something so much stronger.

And that’s why, when a dark brown haired mess of a child bursted through the door disrupting the Mr. Harold mid sentence and caused the entire class to glare at the him, the first thing El thought about was if Max was going to notice who this boy really was.

El felt the sides of her face begin to heat up, so full of second hand embarrassment that she felt like she was going to start looking like a tomato. And if Max were to catch on, El would never hear the end of it.

“Wheeler, correct?” Mr. Harold lowered his glasses and peered above them, taking in the frazzled boy. “Michael Wheeler?”

Michael, as Mr. Harold called him, stood in the front of the room. His hands were shaking, a bit of sweat collecting on his forehead, and he was breathing heavily enough that El could surmise that he probably sprinted down the hall trying to find the classroom.

“Well,” Mr. Harold said with sarcastic tone, “take a seat next to Eleanore. She’ll get you up to speed.”

El felt her heart crawl up into her throat. His name is Michael? She hated to admit it, but she almost felt sorry for that. First the house across the street, then the locker, and now History class? She looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Class started at eight. It was ten past eight. El sighed.

As the boy made his way to the empty seat next to El, she pulled out her textbook from her backpack and set it down on her desk. Her backpack was about as neat as her locker. That is to say, it looked like a wastepaper basket. Crumpled papers, trash, and broken pencils were mindlessly tossed inside.

El placed her textbook on his desk and smiled.

“Here,” she said, with a soft whisper, “we’re on page one hundred and ten. Chapter quizzes are on Fridays. Homework is written on the board for the next day.”

El watched as the mess next to her began flipping through to the correct page. His writing, she noticed, as he opened up his notebook, was pure chicken scratch.

Once everything seemed to calm down and Mr. Harold’s monotonous voice began to linger in the air like the hum of a fan, El started to drift off. And she got a few seconds of bliss before the classroom door creaked open again.

“Henderson! You’re twenty minutes late,” Mr. Harold mocked, as he stood in front of the chalkboard. “Late note or detention: which will it be?”

El did everything she could to avoid eye contact with Dustin as he stood in the front of the class, searching through his pockets for what El could assume to be his note.

“Here,” Dustin said with a smile, handing the teacher a crumpled piece of yellow paper.

Mr. Harold’s face went from tense to nothing short of defeated. He ran detention, and getting to make students miserable was his favorite thing to do.

Dustin turned to go to his normal seat next to El, but was greeted with a stare from Michael.

If it could be described in any way, El would probably have to say that it was like one of those show downs on the old western movies that she would watch that came on before her favorite soap operas. The two boys locked eyes, neither blinking, for one second that felt like minutes. Part of El wanted to nudge the poor soul next to her, get him to move for a day, explain to him that while, yes, it is unassigned seating, it’s an unspoken rule that if you sit there your first day you don’t change it and you came in and took Dustin’s seat, what did you expect?

“Take your seat, Henderson,” Mr. Harold said, with more disdain than before.

Dustin looked around the room before catching sight of one open chair, in the center of the front row. He took a deep breath and sighed. El watched as he sat down and mindlessly through his bag on the ground and sat hunched over with his head down on the desk.

“Henderson, I don’t care what was going on before class, get your head up and pay attention.”

Dustin didn’t move.

Mr. Harold crossed his arms and stood in silence for a moment, waiting for Dustin to listen. Dustin didn’t.

“That’s it,” Mr. Harold said as he walked over to his desk and pulled out a packet of pink paper. “Detention. After school.”

All El heard from Dustin was a groan. She looked over to Max, who was just as surprised as El expected her to be. El then turned around to her right to see Michael, with his head in the textbook.

El looked down at her open journal in front of her. She had only written the date. Frustrated, she closed it with a bit too much force. Placing her head on her hand and her elbow on the desk, El turned to stare at the clock. She counted along with it, each second as the minute hand slowly moved from number to number

When the bell rang at the end of class, El packed up her journal and hightailed it out. Math was next, all the way at the other end of the building, and she really wasn’t in the mood to be late today. She heard her name called, but chose to ignore it. She really wasn’t up to it today.

Math came and went, since none of her friends were in the class with her.  Dustin was in Science, but since it was a lab day, El wasn’t able to explain the situation to him.

It was finally lunch.

The one time of the day when El and all of her friends were together. It wasn’t freedom, but it was as close as it could be.

By the time El made it through the lunch line and had a plate full of french fries and assorted vegetables, she saw her friends already grouped together at their normal table.

“I’m telling you, Iron Man would defeat Batman in seconds. Think about the technology he’s working with. Fists are no match for guns!”

El saw Lucas nearly standing up in his chair across from Will, using a french fry as pointer. Lucas was dating but not really dating Max. But Lucas was El’s friend long before Max made her way into Hawkins. Lucas lived just a few houses down from El. They practically grew up together. So you can see the bind El was in when Lucas and Max started not really dating but dating.

Will, on the other hand, joined the party in first grade. He lives farther out of the town, but that doesn’t stop him from being with everyone whenever he gets the chance. While Lucas was loud, Will was the quiet giant. Smarter than hell, which is why he and El don’t have classes together, and kinder than a puppy.

“Just because Batman doesn’t kill that doesn’t mean he’s any less powerful than a man who is nothing without his suit!” Dustin was walking a line between calm and livid. The spilled milk, El guessed, came as a result of Dustin’s expressive arm movements.

“Max,” Will butted in, “if Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark were to fight with no weapons or gadgets, who would win?”

El took a seat at the edge of the table next to Max and Lucas and across from Dustin and Will. Dustin seemed like he wasn’t too worked up about what had happened before, and El was grateful for that. As long as the topic didn’t come up, he rest of the day could go on as planned.

“I don’t think it’s much of a contest,” Max replied simply, acting as though there wasn’t weight resting on her response. “If we’re talking no weapons, Tony vs Bruce, Bruce wins.”

“See! I told you...” Dustin yelled as he threw his hands in the air, only to see Max put her hands out as a sign that she wasn’t done talking.

“But,” Max said softly, “If it’s Iron Man vs Batman, Iron Man wins.”

“Max!” Will rolled his eyes and sighed, obviously not content with her answer. “You never solve anything. You’re as non-confrontational as El!”

El felt a shift in the air at Will’s remark. It was true, she wasn’t one for confrontation and rarely did she go on the attack. It made life as the police chief’s daughter easy.

“Speaking of El and confrontation,” Dustin said, casually pushing ketchup around his plate with a half eaten french fry, “who’s the new kid in History?”

El directed her glance down to the fruit on her plate. Maybe if I show that I don’t want to talk about it he’ll recognize that and let it be?

“The one with the messy hair?” Max smiled as she recalled the disheveled boy from class. “What’s his name?”

“Michael,” El responds, still fiddling with her uneaten lunch.

“Well,” Dustin remarks pointedly, “tell Michael that he has to find a new seat because I’ve been there since the first day.”

“He took your seat?” Lucas looked at Dustin and raised his eyebrows.

“And I got a detention because Harold is sadistic!” Dustin was shouting again. “All I did was put my head down, which I do every class, and he just yelled! If I had been in the second row he wouldn’t see me but since Michael took my seat I had to sit in the front and Harold hates people who sit in the front and don’t pay attention.”

“Dustin,” Lucas said sympathetically, “don’t you think you’re over reacting?”

“I’m not overreacting!” Dustin was, in fact, overreacting.

El had been quiet for most of the discussion. And with reason. Sure, the argument wasn’t about her, but it directly involved her. So it was, to her, the same thing. El noticed that Will had been avoiding his food in exchange for silent contemplation.

“Hold on,” Will spoke up, “new kid, messy brown hair…”

El shot will a glare at Will that screamed if you say one more word I will murder you. Before Will could even break a smile a forced cough came from behind El.

“Um,” El heard, and, turning around, she saw none other than the topic of conversation. El chose to ignore Dustin’s offhand comment that came under his breath loud enough to be heard but quiet enough that it was for the party and not the new kid.

“I just wanted to give you your textbook back,” Michael said with a shaky voice. He held out El’s textbook in front of him.

“I have a copy at home,” El said with a smile. “You keep it.”

It was true, El did have multiple copies of her major textbooks, even for History. It was a method she used to avoid forgetting her books at school and then having panic attacks at home when she couldn’t complete her homework because she left her book at school. After the third time her father had to call the principal at night to open the doors, El thought it was best to have an extra copy, just in case.

“Oh,” Michael reponsed. “Thanks.” He turned and made his way out of the lunch room, practically sprinting.

No one at the table spoke up, rather, they each turned to their food and basked in the quiet conversation. El felt like some kind of bubble in her stomach. She was a internalizing fumes of anger and a mix of empathy and sympathy for Michael. And without thought she converted that feeling into words without hesitation.

“You don’t have to be mean to him,” El said, focusing on her hands. She was picking at her fingernails unconsciously. “He seems really nice and you’re not giving him a chance.”

Lucas and Max looked at each other and then over to Dustin, who was still moving around the leftover food on his plate. Will was quiet and had his head down.

“We have to start working with Mr. Clarke after school today for the Science Fair project. I’m going to invite him and you could apologize to him.” Even though El wasn’t looking directly at Dustin, the sharp words were quite clear.

“Sure, whatever you want,” Dustin said as he rolled his eyes.

“Please don’t talk to me like that,” El responded quickly, pulling her hands up from under the table to get her plate. Her left thumb was covered in blood, pooling from the edge of her nail. She grabbed what was left of her lunch and, with her backpack in tow, left the table with little intent to hear his apology.

El sat through English, usually her favorite subject, and didn’t participate. Rather than take notes on poetry and something about symbolism, El drew lines in her notebook. At first they were short, vertical parallel  lines in the corner of the page. Then they went diagonal. Lines started crossing each other. They were heavy lines, soft lines, lines on top of lines. And by the end of the period, the entire top of her page was colored in. Lucas and Max, who were also in class, gave El her space. She appreciated that.

The last period of the day was study hall. A blessing from the school guidance counselor, who made sure El got to choose her schedule. Having the last period off made the day shorter and, occasionally, allowed for more planning for after school activities.

El had study hall alone, which was why she got most of her homework done there, when she wanted to. After the day that she had, El was ready to use this free period for what most students used it for: sleep.

As she opened the door to the English classroom that served as the study hall room, El was greeted by Ms. Bell. Ms. Bell was the closest thing El had to a mother. She was kind and understanding, more so than any teacher El previously had. She came to her when she was having issues with her friends, with other teachers, even when she was having issues that her friends didn’t even know about.

And El loved her because she let her sleep.

But as El turned from the door to settle into her usual seat in the middle of the room, Michael was sitting a few rows back. Just my luck.

El took in a deep breath and quietly walked through the rows of desks to her normal seat. Focusing in on her chair rather than risk the chance of looking at Michael and locking eyes, El overlooked the backpack that was resting on the floor and, with an ungraceful fall, tripped and hit the ground nose first.

It happened so fast that she didn’t have time to react. Lying on the floor El felt her nose become warm and placed a finger under her nose. It was red.

In the moment that El had seen her finger Michael had rushed over and got down on his knees. He pulled a packet of tissues out from his pocket and handed them to El.

“Here,” Michael laughed. “You’re gonna need these.”

El sat up and reached for the tissues. She carefully pulled one out and stuffed it in her nose. She took another and wiped the spot of blood that was on the floor.

The pain in her nose was petty compared to the acid that was eating away the walls in her stomach. She felt like she was in shock, as if the thought that everyone was thinking about her made her freeze.

“Michael,” Ms. Bell said calmly, “take El down to the nurse.”

“I can do it myself,” El said with a nasally tone. As she stood up she had to grab hold of the nearest desk, her feet loose under her weight.

“Yea,” Ms Bell chuckled, “that’s not happening. I’m going to call the nurse and tell her to expect two people.”

El started to make her way to the door and went to open it but was cut off by Michael. This boy is going to be the death of me I swear.

“You don’t have to do this, Michael,” El said, keeping her eyes on her feet to avoid another fall.

“Please, call me Mike. Only my parents call me Michael.” El looked up and noticed that his hands were shaking. “And I don’t think that you have much of a choice with the state you’re in.”

“I’m sorry to put you through this,” El said softly. Mike. It fits him more than Michael.

“No, it’s fine. I wanted to move around a bit. I’m not very good at sitting down for a long time.” Mike let out a short laugh, and El had to stop herself from smiling. It hurt her nose too much.

Normally El liked the silence. It was never awkward for her. But walking next to the boy that she had been wondering about for the last few days, El felt like there was nothing to do but get to know him.

“You’re new here,” El said simply. It was more of a question but it sounded more like an accusation. Mike smiled and scratched behind his ear.

“Yea, good guess,” Mike joked. “I’m from Chicago but my parents thought it would be a nice change to leave the city and come out to a quieter place. I can’t really argue with them.”

“I was born in Chicago,” El said, starting to pick her thumb again. “But my dad moved us out here. We live on Windsor street.”

“I live on Windsor street too! Wouldn’t it be funny if we were neighbors?” Mike continued to smile and laugh slightly. El noticed that his hands were starting to shake again. Would this be the right time to tell him that you’ve been watching him from your window for the last few days?

“I’m sorry about how my friends are,” El said, turning to face Mike. He was counting the numbers above the doors. “They’re not very good with letting people in. Especially Dustin. When his dad left we got a lot of the anger.”

Mike only nodded and continued to walk side by side with El.

When they arrived at the nurses office, it was quiet as usual. El was friends with the nurse, as with most of the teachers. She was quiet, kept out of trouble, and was kind. That’s all the teachers needed.

“Another nosebleed, Eleanore?” The nurse asked as she rummaged through the medicine closet.

“She tripped and fell,” Mike answered before El could respond.

“Oh dear,” the nurse said as she turned to see El’s face. El’s nose was stuffed with red tissues in both nostrils. The nurse pinched El’s nose and El took in a sharp breath. “I think you may have broken your nose, sweetie. Sit down and I’ll put a splint on it until you go see a doctor.”

El followed the nurses orders and sat herself on the cold metal table that was for the sick children. Mike sat down next to her and smiled when El tilted her head back so she could take out the two tissues.

“This isn’t funny,” El said as she slowly pulled the tissues out.

“This is going to hurt,” the nurse said, gently placing a cloth on top of the bridge of El’s nose.

It came like a paper cut, a quick, but immensely sharp pain that was nothing like what El felt when she fell. She closed her eyes and reached her left hand out and grabbed hold of the closest thing possible to squeeze away some of the pressure.

It wasn’t until she opened her eyes again that she realized that she had grabbed Mike’s hand and nearly broken that too. Coming to her senses, El quickly let go and placed her hand in her lap. Mike left his in between them. His hand was soft and warm, almost like her own. It wasn’t an old hand but something sweeter.

“I’m going to go and get some ice. Don’t fall again, you hear me?” The nurse chuckled at her own joke, which wasn’t even a joke in the first place. She quietly made her way out of the office and left El and Mike alone.

El wouldn’t call it electricity. She felt excited. Her heart was racing and it must have been the adrenaline because she couldn’t feel the pain that had previously rendered her nose useless. But there was something in the way that Mike sat there. He was quiet, yes, but he was respectful. It was as if he knew she liked the silence too.

El started to pick at her fingernails again, this time stopping right as the nurse returned.

After a few words exchanged about not touching it and getting to a doctor soon, the nurse sent them on their way, although there was little time left before the final bell.

In the hallway, Mike waited as El slowly made her way out the door.

“Thanks,” El said with a smile. She looked at his eyes. She never realized how tall he was, seemingly towering over her.

“No problem,” Mike replied. He kept his hands in his pockets, and El could see that his hands were shaking.

“We have this science fair project that we’re working on in a half hour. You should come and meet everyone.” El looked at him and raised her eyebrows. She studied his eyes, dark brown circles that were deeper than she’d ever seen before.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Mike said, his hands now shaking more than before.

“Mr. Clarke’s room. Three thirty.” El turned and walked away, not worrying about the hesitation in Mike’s voice.

He was coming. She knew it. Maybe he wasn’t going to be the death of her after all.

taglist: @fatechica @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold @earlgreyteagirl @bitchin-promises

[fangirlinganditswonders]

Hawkins’ sweetheart  (Billy Hargrove imagine)

► Summary: When the reader comes back to Hawkins she doesn’t expect that Billy Hargrove, the new boy in town, is going to suppose such an important piece on her messed up life.

Series masterlist

(You can find more of my stories on my MASTERLIST)

► Pair: Billy Hargrove x reader

► Warnings: Some swearing

► Author’s notes: So this is supposed to be the first part of a mini series I already have on my mind (And my notebook) so if you like this part and want the rest of them make me know! English is not my first language so sorry if there’s any grammar or spelling mistake. (Special gratitude to @oldvoicesinmyhead for helping me with my writer’s block with this story)

Feel free to contact me HERE or send me a message with anything you need!

Constructive criticism is always welcome

“You sure you want to go back to school this soon?” You looked at the woman on the driver’s seat and smile. You knew she was only worried about you. Visiting your mother was always hard for you, a true roller coaster that left you exhausted and besides there was the planes you had to take to get to Washington. “Totally sure Kelly… I’ve missed being a normal teen. God! I’ve even missed this town” She chuckled and her eyes went to you for a few seconds before locking them on the road again. “I mean it, you don’t have to worry, besides I’m looking forward to meet my friends and Steve, I’ve really missed that little dumbass.”

Steve Harrington, your cousin and the person you’ve missed the most during your month away. Of course you talked almost every day, some of them spending hours on the phone, especially when he told you about her breakup with Nancy or how the things with Will were going. Unlike Steve you were aware of everything going on with Will’s situation almost since the beginning thanks to your friendship with Jonathan Byers. Ever since you were a kid Steve had always been there, he was almost like an elder brother instead of a cousin. When you made it to high school you both made new friends and didn’t spend as much time together but you were still very close. That was the moment when you got closer to Jonathan thanks to both of your love for photography. Even though they are very different they were your closest and most important friends. When you left to Washington Will was back from the upside down but a few of you had started to notice that maybe things were not as normal and fine as they seemed. You felt horrible when you heard everything that happened during your absence but you had to do it, you’d promised her and even though she wouldn’t admit it she needed you more than you could ever imagine. Now it seemed like everything had gone back to normal and you were looking forward to see everyone again.

“I can imagine than you won’t go straight towards home after school” Kelly looked at you with a brow raised and you smiled as innocently as you could. “There’s a lot I need to catch up on” “Fine, but I’ll wait for you to have dinner together, I’m making the zucchini cake you love that much” “You know I love you, right?” “Yeah, yeah…” “See you tonight!” You said leaving the vehicle.

You heard the car leaving the parking lot while your eyes scanned everything; you had truly missed this place a lot. Some familiar faces started to get spotted by you while they walked towards their first period. It didn’t take long until you heard someone calling your name. Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Will were running towards you, a huge smile on your face by seeing them again. They didn’t wait; the four of them hugged you at the same time when they got to you.

“You’re finally back!” Dustin said with a huge smile on his face. “We’ve missed you” Will added. “Oh guys I’ve missed you so much” You said between chuckles at seeing their smiling faces and then you saw one you didn’t recognize. There was a red haired girl a few steps away from you with a shy smile on her face. You looked at the boys waiting for them to introduce her. “Y/N, this is Max” Lucas said taking her by the hand and approaching her to you. “Hi Max, nice to meet you” You extended your hand and she took it, her smile widening. “When did you get here?” Mike asked. “Just yesterday night.” “And you’re already attending school?” Dustin asked furrowing “You still so responsible uh?” You shrugged and laughed. “Looks like” “We have so many things to tell you” Mike said and you already knew one of them, but of course you were not cutting his hype off. “And I’m eager to hear all of them”

After a few more minutes they left to their first period and you did the same thing. Going to your locker seemed almost impossible that day, many classmates and some other people who could be called friends stopped you to give you their welcome hug. It was easy to guess that you were one of those persons who were liked by everyone, or that’s what people trend to say. Some people called you “Hawkins sweetheart” for a reason, it was difficult for you to dislike someone but hey, everything is possible. When you finally made it to your locker you found a yellow post-it stuck on the metallic door. It only said “Welcome back meathead”. A wide smile appeared on your face, there was only one person who called you that, and that smile got even wider when you heard his voice behind you before his arms pulled you into a hug by your shoulders. You turned to him with the intention of hugging him properly but you stopped as soon as you saw the condition of his face.

“Oh my God! Steve what happened?” He lowered his stare with a bitter smile on his face. “Yes… Maybe I forgot to explain you some things…” “Some things? Are you kidding me? What happened?” “It’s a long story and I want a hug from my favorite cousin” You didn’t want to push more but the curiosity and worrying was eating your guts. Before you could say another word he pulled you into a tight hug which you gave back. “I’m so happy you’re finally back” He said when you separated. “I hope you don’t have plans after school cause I’ve planned to kidnap you for the entire afternoon” “I was already counting on that but…” He raised his left brow “I won’t be able to if you don’t tell me right now what happened to you” He sighed heavily. “You couldn’t leave your stubbornness at Washington, couldn’t you?” You just shrugged and he scoffed. “Oh come on. You would do the exact same thing if I came to you with my face like… that without you expecting it” You defended yourself pointing at his face with your index. “I told you, it’s a long story” “Shorten it up Steve” “Do you remember the boy I talked you about, Billy Hargrove?” Of course you did. At that point just the sound of that name made you roll your eyes. Steve made sure no one was close enough to hear what he was going to say next. “Well, the night when everything happened… You know… Laboratory… The portal being closed…” You nodded “Well, Billy went to the Byers house looking for her sister Max” “Wait, Max like in the red haired girl that hangs out with the boys?” He nodded “Well… It didn’t end up well, not for me but neither for him. He got drugged and almost hit with a nailed bat by Max” “But… Why did you got into a fight with him? What exactly happened?” “He got violent with the kids, especially Lucas and I couldn’t let that happen” “Oh Steve… You’re going to be such a great mom” You joked making him roll his eyes. “Now seriously… That Billy did really hit you good” You raised your hand to his cheekbone, which was pretty bruised. “Haven’t you seen him yet?” He asked between surprised and relieved. “Maybe… Maybe not. I don’t even know how the guy looks like” He scoffed again. “Trust me, it’s easy to recognize him; he’s the only one wearing a…” Steve’s words were cut when the principal called you. He wanted you to go to his office to explain you some things and works you needed to do to catch up and explain some more things so your conversation with Steve had to wait.

~

The meeting lasted more than you expected and you were late to your first period but you guessed the teacher would be comprehensive about it, but still you didn’t like the fact of being late to your first class after a month. Lots of papers were on your hands now, most of them about works to be done or homework but there were also some interesting ones like the program of the Snowball which was happening in less than a week. You were so focused on the papers and the amount of stuff you had to do you didn’t have time to react when, turning in a corner, a male body appeared out of nowhere and you stumbled into it making most of the papers you were holding fall and spread on the floor. Cursing on the inside you crouched down to start picking and reorganizing them, a second pair of hands appeared on your view and you raised your head to meet with a face you hadn’t seen before. It was a boy with dark blond hair which he wore into a mullet full of disorganized curls, blue eyes and a charming smirk on his face.

“Sorry” You quickly said going back to your full height again. He mimicked you after a second. “I didn’t see you, I was too focused on these damn papers…” “No problem doll” He said still with that smirk that was starting to make you nervous, and not just the smirk, but the way he was staring at you… Way too intense for a first meeting. “What are you doing out of class?” He asked leaning his shoulder against the wall next to him. “Oh, I was at the principal’s office” “Did you get into any trouble?” He asked playfully “No, no, no” Although you didn’t know it, the fact that you were acting so innocent was just making yourself even more appealing to him. “I was at some kind of meeting… I just came back to town and there were some things that…” “Wait, are you Y/N?” He interrupted you. “Uh… Yes… How do you…?” “Know your name?” He asked interrupting you again. Usually you would get annoyed at someone doing that but you couldn’t feel otherwise than nervous under his stare and his charm, and you hated it. You just nodded as an answer. “I’ve been hearing about you for the last few days. Some people seemed very excited about you coming back” His stare went up and down your body to finally lock his eyes on yours again “And I think I’m starting to understand why…” “And what’s your name by the way?” You asked trying to conceal the fact that his charming was winning over you, and he knew that. The blonde haired guy opened his mouth to introduce himself when a third voice sounded at the end of the hallway. “Y/N!” You didn’t see it cause you were looking at Steve as he walked angrily towards the two of you, but on the face of the blue eyed boy a playful smirk substituted the flirtatious one he had seconds ago. The first thing Steve did when he finally got to you was grabbing your wrist and pull you away from the new boy. “No need to be that aggressive with the lady Harrington, we were just talking” “Stay the hell away from her Hargrove” Wait, what? You looked at the blonde boy over Steve’s shoulder as he looked at you and winked before walking away. Steve then turned to you. “What were you doing with Billy Jackass Hargrove?” He asked clearly annoyed.

No way that was the infamous Billy Hargrove. Why didn’t anyone tell you he was so damn goodlooking?

(PART 2)