#and many other things that a lot of people think it's canon

[thedreadvampy]

The (133k 💀) notes on this post are FULL of people referencing 1984. Like I would guess about every third reblog with tags/comments mentions 1984.

And I'm not saying 1984 doesn't have relevance but I'm actually genuinely interested that in like 60k reblogs, I'm not sure anyone's made the literary comparison I would make, which is Farenheit 451.

See, cause 1984 is about state suppression of information. But Farenheit 451 is about the idea that, as the state of the world gets more distressing, people become increasingly hostile to the idea of discomfort, and refuse to acknowledge or speak about things that affect them. The first event of the story is the main character's wife attempting suicide, but when he tries to talk to her about what's wrong, she reacts as if the only problem is that he's talking about something negative.

So I kinda wonder why so many reblogs agree that 1984 is the reference point for this

maybe some of it is the role 1984 plays in the cultural canon and some of it is that, while it's a good book, a non-zero amount of F451 is also based on 'political correctness gone mad! shakespeare is cancelled because of Woke!'

but also

I think it speaks to the difference between what I was thinking of when I made this post (that people tend to a) confuse discomfort with harm and b) treat the word for a subject as the source of discomfort about the subject) to how the majority of people seem to read the post (social media censorship is stealing our language)

cause 1984 is about imposed censorship. and the majority of discussions mentioning 1984 on this post are referencing social media companies and occasionally governments legislating against certain language or topics. language is Taken From You by others, with the deliberate purpose of silencing dissent.

but Farenheit 451, while it includes very similar types of state suppression and manufactured consent, doesn't really frame the problem as originating from a dictatorial state but from our own communities' fear, looking for a target and for ways to feel comfortably innocent. That's not necessarily a more complete read than the 1984 one but it's closer to what I was originally thinking of.

Not talking about rape doesn't protect people from the effects of rape, just like not taking about depression or war or pain doesn't stop the characters in F451 trying to kill themselves to the degree there's a special emergency service devoted to undoing suicides. But people react as if it does.

And there's a whole lot I could also get into about how I think both this problem and the literary comparison connects to things like cosy fandom culture, and the proliferation of blockbuster franchises, and the fact that people are more up in arms about ship wars than actual genocide, and the Sex Scenes In Media discourse, and the discomfort around public expressions of 'deviant' sexualities or gender, and how we discuss discomfort as if it was harm, but those are different posts and this post is about language.

and 1984 is a perfectly apt (or doubleplus good) comparison, I just think it has the potential for fully externalising something which we need to also take some direct community responsibility for. It isn't just about what you're Allowed to say or what people say to you, it's about what role discomfort plays in our own minds and whether we feel it's an inherent evil to be uncomfortable.

you gotta be able to say "die"

you gotta be able to say "suicide"

you gotta be able to talk about "sex"

they're uncomfortable topics, YEAH for SURE

because LIFE is uncomfortable. Death and suicide and sex and pain are straight up going to happen. not having words for the way it discomforts you doesn't make it more comfortable, it just makes you less able to reach out about it.

even more vital, you gotta be able to say words like "rape", "abuse", "queer" or "racist". cause we fought fucking hard to name those experiences. to identify "rape" as distinct from "sex" and "racism" as distinct from "acceptable behaviour" and "queer" as distinct from "invert"

like the function of communication is not to minimise immediate discomfort. we gotta be able to talk about stuff that's hard or sucks or causes difficult conversations.

[shadyr4m]

REWATCHING SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 OF ARCANE

+ some of my highlights and notable moments that I enjoyed bc people can’t understand media anymore

This is mostly an infodump of stuff I can fit into a twitter thread/didn't rly want to make into a thread. I'm not great at words so I apologize in advance, I am sure there are many people much better at analysis than I.

I want to start off by saying I am heavily invested in timebomb so this is very much going to be a ship analysis. If you're looking for someone unbiased i am very much not the person for that 😭

FIRST OFF:

The disc on the music box is adorable!!! It features au Powder (who I am going to refer to as just Powder for the duration of my analysis) and au Ekko

Compared to the normal Disc

This is very obviously because it takes place in a different universe, one without Vi or "Jinx".

The first scene starts off with AU Ekko writing in his notebook. (Cute mention is Powder's doodle in his notebook!!) Then we see flashes of the wild rune. This is when AU Ekko switches to canon Ekko.

Also one of my favorite silly images from this episode is this one.. Powder is being so adorable and Ekko is just scared out of his MIND. it's so silly.

In the Last drop, Powder asks Ekko. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day?". One thing I noticed in my rewatch is that i think Powder is aware this Ekko isn't HER Ekko. This is just one instance of many that makes me think this.

This hideout seems so much more vibrant and loved, similar to Jinx's hideout after Isha. It's colorful. There are guard rails that I like to think was pushed by Vander. We can see Ekko's art scattered around. It just shows how much more support and family Powder has compared to Jinx, which i mention a lot.

Id also like to note Ekko being shocked au him went to powder for help. In his mind at this time he believes Jinx to be all that is left, no more Powder. Through out the episode we see that change.

Notice how Powder gets upset at Ekko in this scene. However, she doesn't react explosively like Jinx would've. She handled it in a way that shows she had support. She told him to leave instead. Again, the main difference between Powder and Jinx isn't only Vi but also the existence of multiple support systems that Jinx simply didn't have.

THIS FLASHBACK! Oh my god this flashback. The fact it happened after he upset Powder? I think it shows just how much he truly cares about Jinx/Powder. He remembers VIVIDLY the day that he thought he killed her. Jinx was his childhood best friend, and I don't think that kind of feeling ever truly goes away. He doesn't want to hurt any version of her, not even the alternate universe her. We see that showcased more later on. Also, random probably insane note. He is interrupted by small children playing, having fun. This isn't a coincidence, it shows he does miss the moments from when they were kids.

While talking with Heimerdinger, we see Ekko look at Powder multiple times. Watching her laugh and be expressive, he smiles. When she doesn't return it we see him get upset. Once more this brings me to my point that he doesn't want to hurt her. Considering he hasn't known this Powder very long you can see where I gather my point that he doesn't want to hurt her in GENERAL. Any version of her.

THIS SCENE!! He is such a bad liar it's adorable. This brings me to my earlier point, Powder knows what's up!! She suspects something 100%. He is talking about this dream her like it was real.

"You aren't the kind of person who helps other people with their projects. Your ideas change the world. I can't shake the feeling that that's who you're supposed to be."

Are you LISTENING TO THIS? He is obviously talking about Jinx. You can tell this by the first sentence because obviously Powder IS that kind of person. He's starting to see that Jinx is just a part of Powder, one that is unavoidable and that he unknowingly appreciates in a sense. Like two sides of one coin he can't see Powder without Jinx and that is good. I think it is here he realizes truly just how much he cares about Jinx.

This whole montage is beautiful but I want to zero in on two things. Powder's reaction to the notebook and how she looks at Ekko after. NOW THIS. This is the nail in the coffin for her. She knows that this is not her Ekko. She has fully gathered that he isn't from this universe.

Also heimerdinger totally knows how Ekko feels you cannot tell me otherwise. Pushing him to go to the party? yeah he knows what you are.

THIS WHOLE SCENE. I AM NOT ANALYZING THE WHOLE THING HERE BUT IT IS GORGEOUS. I saw someone talking about how it was animated on 4's to signify the way Ekko can only go back 4 seconds and I honestly shed a tear. THE SONG TOO? I encourage everyone to look at the lyrics because they're beautiful.

Okay now for my favorite part of this episode so much to dissect and i'm totally going to mansplain but yk..

"I used to dream the undercity could be like this" — That sets the tone for the whole conversation and just what world he is talking about. The canon one.

"But somewhere, I got consumed by all the ways it wasn't. I gave up on it. Gave up on YOU." — Heavy emphasis on this line. Once more he is talking about Jinx. He is talking about how he got so consumed by the way that Jinx wasn't good, and he gave up on her. Believed she was irredeemable. Powder showed him that Jinx is capable of love and happiness, it's just under that tough protective shell. The undercity in the metaphor is Jinx, from my interpretation.

"I promise i'll never forget this." — Now time for my insanity. He doesn't forget this. That's why he saves Jinx from ending her life in the first place. He remembers Powder and knows that with the right support Jinx doesn't have to be the way she is. It's not that she "needs to be fixed" she just needs to be LOVED, like Powder. He sees that now. He sees how in the au the love that everyone shares for one another shaped the undercity beautifully, and made everyone in it much healthier mentally despite going through hardships. That is beautiful. People with mental illness are not unlovable they just need more support, it can't be cured, or fixed just healed. Mental illness is always there it is how you DEAL with it that matters.

Nothing too major to talk about with the kiss. It's sweet I love it, but nothing too notable for me to say about it.

Finally, Ekko leaves the au. I have seen people say that this is a sacrifice, he could've had everything he wanted and he gave it up to save the people at home. But i take insanity to another level. I see this as him appreciating his home. He knows he can never truly love this Powder because she isn't the version he fell in love with. He learned to appreciate Jinx even through her flaws, and that while this world has everything he could want and more he can have that home too.

I am experiencing HEAVY timebomb brainrot if you can’t already tell. I was tired of people taking things in the complete wrong way with this episode, if anyone has different views pls tell me I love hearing how other people took certain scenes. there are a few scenes I love but I would’ve made this post way too long..

[room-surprise]

PSA: Mithrun doesn't run a noodle shop after the end of the manga!

(WARNING FOR SPOILERS)

Awhile back I posted a PSA about how Mickbell and Kuro don't run a noodle shop in the canon, they run an "everything store." In this post I mentioned that "Mithrun running a noodle shop" was also not canon, and that I'd get around to talking about it later.

Both of these fanons are the result of some mistranslation and information getting passed through multiple people, resulting in a very popular fanon that some people think is canon, that Mithrun is running an Asian-style noodle shop in Merini, and that he's in competition with Mickbell and Kuro.

Please note, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Mithrun (or Mickbell and Kuro) running a noodle shop! If you like the idea and want to write or draw things about that, it's fine! It's just not canon.

SO WHAT IS CANON?

Unfortunately a lot of the information we have about what happens to Mithrun after the end of the manga comes from the still untranslated second version of the Adventurer's Bible, a Chinese Q&A posted by Kui's Chinese publisher, and autograph sessions where Kui answered fan questions, and fans posted about it on Twitter and Reddit.

You can understand why the last one, fans self-reporting what Kui told them, is extremely unreliable and shouldn't be considered the same level of "canon" as something that Kui had printed and published, or that was recorded in an official capacity.

A fan at the Korean signing described it like this (paraphrasing for clarity):

A group of about 100 fans gathered in big room with a screen, where they were playing the anime. The publisher called us up one by one, and we were guided to a smaller room, where Kui was sitting with 5-6 people from the publisher and a translator. We were not allowed to use our phones to take pictures or video.

I don't know if all of the signing events were like this, but we know that Kui and many other manga artists want to preserve their personal privacy, so I'd assume most of these events are run this way.

This makes information from autograph sessions really unreliable, since anyone could post anything online and claim Kui said it, and even other fans who were at the event wouldn't be able to prove that it wasn't true.

I have heard that sometimes fans "overheard" answers that other fans got, which doesn't fit with the above description, so some signings may have not been that private... Or maybe after a fan got their autograph, they talked with other fans at the event and shared information that way? Or maybe they talked about it online afterwards? I can't say for certain.

Anyway, moving on!

IF HE'S NOT RUNNING A NOODLE SHOP, WHAT IS MITHRUN DOING?

Here's Mithrun's updated biography page from the World Guide:

"島の迷宮が消失した後は、女王の命を受けメリニに駐在する。"

"After the island labyrinth disappears, he is stationed in Merini under the orders of the Queen."

The confusing part here is that another comic says Mithrun is retiring, and that he'll no longer be part of the Canaries.

MITHRUN: 何の用だフレキ (What do you want, Fleki?) FLEKI: 実は隊長が隊をやめられると 耳にしまして･･…. (I actually heard that the captain is leaving the squad…) MITHRUN: 事実だ (It's true.) FLEKI: おおっ第二の人生を歩まれる (Oh, you're starting a second life.)

Cithis also confirms that Mithrun is leaving the Canaries:

"それで隊をやめたあと何をされるご予定で? (So what are you planning to do after you leave the corps?)"

This seems like it would be a contradiction with "he is stationed in Merini under the orders of the Queen." If he's retired, why is he still taking orders? Why is he stationed there, a term normally used for military duty?

I think what Kui is telling us is that even though Mithrun isn't a Canary anymore, he's still nobility, and as a noble he has to obey the elf queen, and even if he isn't actively a Canary, he's considered a military asset - one of the duties of nobility is to always be ready to perform military service for their monarch.

Since the elf queen is an absolute monarch, anything Mithrun does is "with the Queen's permission/under her orders," since she owns her subjects.

(This is fun because it hints at potential future conflict. Will the Queen ever command Mithrun to do something he doesn't want to do? What happens if he refuses? Will he defect, and swear allegiance to his new home in Merini instead?)

Ok, Mithrun's retired from the Canaries, but what is he going to do in Merini?

"メリニに残り悪魔の監視を続けるはびこ魔物の蔓延る場所を巡り活動を記録する魔物とは 迷宮とは なんだったのか 生涯をかけて 追い続ける (I'll remain in Merini, and continue to watch out for demons. I'll travel to places where monsters gather and record their activities. I'll spend the rest of my life seeking to understand monsters, and the labyrinth.)"

(Why does the translation call it a labyrinth, not a dungeon? PSA on this here.)

As you can see, there's no mention of noodles here. Mithrun has something he seriously, passionately wants to do, and he plans to do it for the rest of his life. Fleki's reaction, by the way, is complete and utter horror (she was hoping Mithrun would return to his family's wealthy estate and she could mooch off of him):

"残る･･･魔物のこんな未開拓地に? 蘇生術なし (Remaining here… in such a primitive country that's full of ​​monsters? Without resurrection magic?)"

This tells us that the elves probably consider the Eastern Continent an uncivilized and primitive place, where an elf wouldn't want to stay longer than necessary. Fleki seems to think living there would be worse than going back to prison in the elven lands.

Here is where some of the confusion probably starts:

CITHIS: 蕎麦打ち は? (What about making noodles?) MITHRUN: それもやる (I'll do that too.)

Note that Cithis does not say running a noodle shop, she just says "making noodles."

Obviously a person can make noodles for themselves, or for the people around them, without getting into the huge enterprise of opening a restaurant. It's illogical to assume "I'll make noodles" actually means "I'll open a restaurant that serves noodles."

Also, Mithrun is smirking when he answers Cithis, which implies that he's joking, or being sarcastic. This makes sense because "what about making noodles?" is part of a running joke in the manga about ramen noodles and how their presence in the primarily European-style setting of Dungeon Meshi doesn't make sense.

THE RUNNING GAG ABOUT RAMEN

The word Cithis uses, soba (蕎麦), literally means "buckwheat." The full name for buckwheat noodles is soba-kiri (蕎麦切り "buckwheat slices"), but soba is commonly used alone.

Historically, soba noodles were called Nihon-soba, Wa-soba, or Yamato-soba, all of which mean "Japanese noodle." This was meant to distinguish Japanese buckwheat noodles from wheat noodles of Chinese origin, such as ramen, sōmen, or udon.

In the modern era, soba is the word used to refer to noodles in general, regardless of origin or composition. So Italian noodles can be described as a type of soba.

The loan word パスタ (pasuta) is what is normally used to talk about Italian noodles, but the confusion between soba (Japanese buckwheat noodles) and soba (any other type of noodle) is the core of Kui's joke.

In Chapter 81, Laios and his party try to make food for Marcille that will remind her of her home and childhood (which is clearly supposed to be someplace like Italy) but they end up making Japanese-style pork ramen instead. The punchline is that Izutsumi, the only Japanese member of the party, can tell that they've made the wrong type of noodles, but the rest of the party doesn't understand what she's talking about to a comical and ridiculous extent.

In Chapter 94, when Kabru and the Canaries are trying to encourage Mithrun to keep on living, Fleki and Lycion go off on a comical tangent about making noodles:

The punchline of this joke is that Kui is depicting Mithrun servingJapanese-style noodles, which makes no sense because the elves aren't Japanese... Something we know for a fact because there are actual explicitly Japanese characters in Dungeon Meshi. Laios thinks "That's like Marcille's (local cuisine)..." in reference to the joke in Chapter 81.

The panel on the left shows Mithrun looking like a stereotypical ramen stand operator: gruff, covered in sweat, proudly presenting his finished work.

(Sorry for using your thumbnail, random furry youtuber.)

The headband, black tunic and white apron that Mithrun is wearing, and even the crossed arms in Laios' imagination is part of the look of your stereotypical Japanese chef.

So it's understandable that people look at all this, and think "Mithrun will run a Japanese-style ramen stand!" because it's a very cute, very funny idea.

But canonically it's an idea that only exists in Laios' imagination, as something that is meant to be comically outlandish, because the things Lycion and Fleki are saying are also presented as being pretty silly. A bit of levity in an otherwise very melancholy chapter.

I'll also note that when Lycion talks about Mithrun making soup bowls to serve his noodles in, he says "He could enjoy his handmade cuisine in his own bowls!"

There's no mention of serving the noodles to anyone else, just that Mithrun could enjoy the satisfaction of being self-sufficient, making his food and tableware from scratch. This is something which actually aligns very well with the themes of Dungeon Meshi.

DIDN'T KUI SAY MITHRUN IS MAKING NOODLES IN A Q&A?

During the post-manga publicity tour Kui went on, she did several signings where she answered short questions from fans while giving out autographs and drawings.

Remember, these questions and answers are being collected by fans from random tweets and other posts online, translated into English by amateurs, and there is no way to prove their veracity.

Q. Did Mithrun get to live a happy life after ending? A. He is doing work and hobby, living a happy and fulfilled life, although he is not that friendly so he will not be doing diplomat for a long time.

Taking this information at face value and assuming it's true, it sounds like Kui differentiated between "work" and "hobby" - So Mithrun has something he is doing seriously, like a job, and something he is doing for fun, as a hobby.

This makes sense with what we've seen in the official materials: monitoring the monsters and keeping watch for the return of the demon is Mithrun's "job", and making noodles (and doing other things, probably, since the noodles were a joke) are Mithrun's hobbies.

WHAT ABOUT THE WRITTEN WEIBO Q&A?

These Chinese fan questions were answered by Kui in written form, and posted online by her Chinese publisher in both Chinese and Japanese, so in my opinion, these answers should be taken more seriously than things that were solely reported by fans.

However, the question and answer about noodles here is clearly a light-hearted joke:

Q: 米斯伦会做出什么样的荞麦面？(What kind of soba will Mithrun make?) A: おいしい蕎麦だといいですね。(I hope they're delicious soba.)

As with many other answers, you can see that Kui answers in a vague, polite, and gently joking way. "What kind of noodles will Mithrun make?" "Tasty ones, hopefully!"

It's similar to how she answered questions about if Falin's lifespan is longer because she's a chimera or if Thistle is still alive with "That would be nice!" or "I hope so!"

This is clearly a sort of non-answer, but even if you take it to mean "Mithrun is 100% for sure making noodles," there is still zero indication that Mithrun is canonically running a restaurant.

In closing: if you want him to run a noodle restaurant in your heart, in your fanfics, in your fanart, that is perfectly fine! Japanese fans love this idea (they use pasta emojis to represent Mithrun!) and there's tons of artwork about Mithrun being a ramen chef. I think that would be a lovely thing for him to do! I bet he'd have a lot of fun!

But it's not canon.

What is canon is that he's living in Merini, going to group therapy, learning to appreciate the people around him, enjoying himself, and both his work and his hobbies are going well 💕

[risingsunresistance]

would you believe me if i said this is skyblock fanart 😭

explanation below for anyone interested. it's a bit long 🐖

basic explanation for people who dont go here. or the tldr: the rift is a separate dimension in hypixel skyblock where reality and time itself do not function the same. the other npcs tend to take on different forms in there. this is my interpretation of what might happen to techno if he were to travel into the rift based on some other theories about the place and my own headcanons for him

less basic explanation for the rest of you: ok so. first thing to get out of the way, the rift isnt completely separate from the main reality. SOME of your own thoughts and feelings influence the way you exist in the realm and the way the realm itself behaves. not very many people seem to take on forms ENTIRELY divorced from themselves, save for maybe enigma (we dont know who he was originally, if he was anyone at all)

but i have a theory backed up by absolutely nothing that your rift form is mostly influenced by three different things: your inherit magic, your ability to control and manipulate that magic, and your overall stability. stability will look different from person to person and you dont always know if someone is stable or not just by talking to them. even something as simple as a phobia might change them drastically. still, the rift is unstable itself, so sometimes people get altered horrifically even though they were perfectly fine

my main points of reference for this are that some of our most altered characters are some who check all these boxes, and some who are relatively normal dont check any of them. lathrop/porhtal is split into a bunch of eyes and has one human-looking form that sits motionless at the wither cage and doesnt speak. we know he was incredibly magical, eventually got a great grip on said magic, but was also very very unstable. the wizard is very magical, is a master of said magic, and is pretty well put together. he is nearly unchanged in the rift. barry is the same as the wizard but went a bit nuts before he left, so in the rift he seems just a bit... off

on the opposite side of things, maddox is someone who we are told has ZERO magic in him. the only thing that changes in the rift is the fact that his helmet is red now. kat has never shown us any magic and seems to be pretty normal, so she's also just a different color palette in the rift and happens to have a weird job

anyways back to techno. (btw if you're reading this and happen to not be a regular here this is a mix of headcanons and "canon" but im treating it ALL as real and true facts for the sake of this drawing ok). he could be one of the most magical people here... but he has no idea how to use any of it on command. if you asked him if he possessed any magic, he would say no. his healing ability, while it is VERY strong, is passive, and he was only able to gather magic during the resistance fight with the help of the wands we were given. but he was able to gather a lot of magic during that fight, concentrate it, and release it all on his own. not many people could handle that. he also worships the blood god and has its blessing, and has some connection with spirits in the form of the voices / chat / whatever you wanna call them. there might be even more to him, who knows

so that's already a setup for disaster, but what about his stability? well he's constantly followed by a chorus of thousands of voices all screaming at him and god itself might be hanging around in that mix, led a war against the server staff and a dictator that lasted for 2 years skyblock time, and did the whole potato war thing which was ~70 years server time iirc. i wouldnt really call him stable KFJHG

so what you end up with is a very violent beastly thing, nearly unrecognizable save for the fact that he's still a pig (my first point, you dont become a COMPLETELY different thing under most circumstances). i think he's entirely out of control of himself and would not remember a trip to the rift. a stability elixir might help him in terms of being more aware of himself (i think sirius really downplayed what that potion does lmao it's not just a fun drink, he wanted to guarantee himself some control over his mind while he was conducting his "business" in the rift) but there's no saving the physical form

i wanted him to be beastly to mimic what happens to "dante" in the rift (the memory of dante, it's complicated. but dante and bacte are most likely two different people who are also the same person). yeah he was a big slime in the overworld, but now he's more monstrous. he also doesnt speak, he might not have any idea what's going on. same could be said for techno in a way. of course this is related to dante, what else would you expect from me :P i want to see them fight at the colosseum so bad...

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but anyways THIS WAS SO FUN AAAAAUGH IM SO GLAD I FINALLY GOT THROUGH THIS. MY IPAD FINALLY DIED AFTER AN ENTIRE DECADE IN THE MIDDLE OF LINING IT AND I HAD TO CONTINUE ON A NEW TABLET WHEN I'VE SPENT MY ENTIRE LIFE DRAWING WITHOUT A PEN... THIS DRAWING WAS CURSED KJFDHGK

here's a version without chat and the blood god so you can just see the big hog

and here's my old concept from july of last year for comparison :P

initially in the post for the old sketch i said he was based on what i think would happen if he got a hold of some sulphur. i actually think that would be about the same as his rift form because sulphur seems to do very similar things under certain circumstances. always corrupts your form, can sometimes make creatures MUCH larger (matriarch, kuudra, magma boss), heightens your magic (mage outlaw), and can make you incredibly violent (barbarian duke)

bye i hope i tricked someone into reading a really long skyblock theory post expecting more info about techno FKJHG

[shadowykittengladiator]

I disagree actually. I stand by my earlier words. Joker is not that important that a king would have to come from an another dimension to kill him. Joker didn't get ressurected that many times, there have been people that died and came back a lot more than Joker in DC canon. Including Jason, Bruce, Damian, Talia, Ra's, Superman, Superboy, the entire thing with the Black Lanterns really. It can't be because Joker killed many people either. There are people in both DC canon and earth history that killed a lot more than he did. Danny would need to visit a large number of people before he comes anywhere near Joker in that list.

I mean, let's be honest, we know why Danny is headcannoned to kill Joker a lot. Because people care about Jason Todd and wants him to get revenge. Never mind the fact that Jason doesn't want to kill Joker, he specifically wants Bruce to kill Joker. I mean I don't like Jason but I can still understand people who do. People in general disregard a lot in comic canons while writing fics, Which is,like, fine This isn't criticism by the way. It doesn't need to make sense in canon sense for it to be enjoyable. This is DC we are talking about after all. Comics are a mess.

Also I don't think Bruce would mourn Joker. Not even in the sense you talked about. Year 1 Batman might have given a thought or two, maybe felt pity for a second, that Joker wasn't able to change his life, before moving on with his life, completely forgetting him. But after Jason became the red hood in the timeline? No way. It's has been proven time and time again that Bruce wants the Joker dead, that he wants to kill him but is holding himself back due to his principles.

Just to be clear again, it is a bit hard to convey opinions in text. This is not criticism, don't come after me people. Overall, I enjoyed this discussion and the prompt.

By the way, if we are going with infinite realms being infinite, there must be other knights working for Danny. And with many people like Joker, Danny obviously can't go after them all. So instead;

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

He sends one of his knights. One of the inexperienced ones. Joker is after all, not as important as someone like Darkseid, who has been a thorn in Danny's side for some time now.

Batman is skeptical at first after all, when a knight in an armor appears and explains to him. A dead dimension? People Joker killed wanting revenge? Joker unbalanced life and death so much he must stand trial before the king? He doesn't believe it.

He sends word to Constantine, who confirms Infinite Realms exists and there has, in fact, been a new king but he doesn't know much more than that. A word to Captain Marvel confirms it's a death dimension and the new king is a good king. Marvel would know, he is friends with the new king, apparently. Diana confirms Joker might have been broken the balance and it is possible this might gather the attention of the king of the Infinite Realms.

Batman makes some more research after that but it is enough to him. The knight asked Joker to be delivered in a days time so Batman prepares to go Arkham Asylum only to find cave empty of Jason, who has been restlessly pacing while angrily muttering something.

He arrives at Arkham Asylum just in time to see Jason knock Joker out. He watches him for a bit before making himself known.

"Are you going to stop me?" His son asks. Batman doesn't answer. Instead he takes out a......... present tape?

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

"Is that the Joker?" The young knight asks them when they show up at the agreed time. He sounds bemused, seeing Joker wrapped like a present and bound with tape. But that wasn't the funniest part. Courtesy of Dick, Joker looked like a clown. And actual clown this time, with red nose and wig.

He also had various bruises from various people all over his face but nobody cared about that.

"We figured your king might like it." Dick answers as Nightwing.

The knight coughs and Bruce doesn't need to have perfect reading skills to know he is trying not to laugh.

The knight takes of his helmet and offers them a smile. He reaches out for a handshake. He couldnt be older then eighteen but that is not what Bruce focuses.

A gasp by his side, from Red Hood, makes him realize he is not hallucinating.

Bruce knows this boy. Like he knows the girl he failed to save because he couldn't solve Riddler's puzzle in time, or the girl that drowned in the sewers because Bruce wasn't strong enough, or the boy that was stabbed by his father because he he didn't want to join a gang, or the boy that froze to death the last time Dr.Freeze escaped Arkham, or the child that burned to death due to Firefly and to this day they don't know who they were.

He knows this boy. Aiden Miller. Got kidnapped by Joker. The clown told them they were on a time limit. Him and Jason, as Robin at the time, managed to find him in time, only to find Aiden's body completely brutalized. Joker played with them again. Aiden's parents were also killed in the attack. Bruce made sure the boy had a funeral for him.

He shakes the hand of the boy he couldn't save and watches as he takes the Joker. Bruce thought this Infinite realms was just another afterlife governed by a God. And it was. But it has to be more than that. This boy that died as a preteen grew up to a fine young man and came back to bring justice to his killer. Even if he was a ghost.

He needs to talk to Constantine and Marvel. See if they can help him join Jokers trial and get him and his family a seat on his execution. Jason's birthday was coming, his boy would appreciate it.

He wondered if this King of the Infinite Realms needed a lawyer for Jokers trial. He is Batman after all, and Batman was a master of many things.

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

Damn, I don't know how to write in English😮‍💨😑

DPxDC Legal Power

Batman: You can not punish the Joker

Batman: You are no judge, jury, and executioner

Danny Fenton, standing over Joker's beaten body: Actually, I am

Danny Fenton, raising the Creep Stick up: I am the High King of Infinite Realms, and this bitch has been resurrected more than once

Danny Fenton, smacking Joker like a piñata: With the use of a pool of some nasty smelling ecto, mind you, but it puts him under my jurisdiction nonetheless

Danny Fenton, smiling at Batman as Joker is wheezing and trying to crawl away: So I am the judge, jury, and executioner for him since I'm the highest power in a Realm where he is a denizen

Danny Fenton, catching the Joker by the ankle and dragging him back: And as the King, I hereby sentence him to death by a repetitive use of The Creep Stick over his whole body

Batman: ...

Red Hood, with a bowl of popcorn: Do you mind switching The Creep Stick for a crowbar?

[ingridgh0st]

I know that a lot of people take these two as separate AUs, but immagine if these are one in the same

Like, childhood friends that always sticked together (and also may or may not have cought feelings for each other along the way that they still can't pin point) and always "shared" a passion for music decide to form a rock duo, and then, idk, music/sports anime gay drama ensues

I think that Till (like in canon) is the one with the real passion for music while Ivan follows him bc more than for the music he likes doing it to have a seat beside him on their shared stage to watch mesmerized as Till basks under the spotlights while pouring all his passion in his singing voice (a trope that's certainly angst free)

Idk how to continue this, bc I don't want it to be all fluff. But who am I kidding for the way these two are the major source of angst would be their own interpersonal conflict, like these two would low key high key have a full on situationship where they push and pull and there are so many things left unsaid that makes the tention palpable on the stage (you decide if in a good or bad way)

[mxflowercheck]

Sherlock and Co pre-canon headcanons 'cause ehh why not???

English is not my first language and I have adhd so feel free to point out any spelling/grammar/etc mistakes

Mariana:

was married for a few years after college. It was a guy she met in college, a really sweet and bright relationship, but it didn't last long after college. They're not friends, but also not enemies, just drifted apart and don't talk anymore

was a Spanish tutor for a while, before she found a job at Hudsons. Loved the kids, hated actually explaining her native language and not just using it intuitively

was a very calm teenager and had the Rebellious stage somewhere in her twenties. She hitchhiked a LOT with friends one summer and her many of her favourite memories and funny stories are related to these trips

has an older sibling - and i mean like 10 or more years age gap. Tbh they're not really close

John:

pathological people pleaser as a kid. The First Child. Look at him. Yeah, that's a man who did things just because they were expected from him.

talked to himself a lot while alone, and in his mind in public. i think it's why it's easy for him to record podcasts - he's used to just talking with no one

tried writing blogs and diaries, but it never worked out

Sherlock:

once just shaved his head because summer was awfully hot and he was ALWAYS overstimulated even with short hair. He didn't like it though and never did again

was homeless for a short period of time

met Lestrade when he was arrested. She thought "NOT MY CIRCUS NOT MY MONKEYS" really hard but it didn't work. So she acquired a neurodivergent catastrophe. Sherlock pretends not to like her, but actually respects her and cares about her opinion and well-being (and vice versa)

changed multiple schools as kid due to various reasons (aka being neurodivergent and probably undiagnosed), was finally sent to a small boarding school. Not ideal, but better than others

[metalomagnetic]

Hi! Do you have any characters that you find slightly similar to Loki or Voldemort/Tom Riddle in terms of personality or backstory or just vibes?

For example, as huge fan of frostiron I LOVE Loki. And after reading fics about him for years I can’t help but notice small similarities between him and Sirius. They’re NOT the same, not at all. But I personally see a lot of stuff that they have in common. Both characters are very prideful, strong magicians, black sheep of their family, have a dark side but ultimately end up doing more good than bad. And that’s if we include both canon and fanon. It’s okay if you disagree, that’s just my personal perception)

For Voldemort I was unable to find any sort of counterpart🤷‍♀️

Soo, my question remains. I am very curious as to what you have in mind;)

I assume you mean Loki from the movies; I am unfortunately unfamiliar with him. The only Loki I know is the one from Norse mythology, and I don't remember very much about him, either. I do remember he was a shapeshifter, like many gods, so I suppose he has that in common with Sirius! I can't speak further of similarities, that's practically all I remember.

As for Voldemort...I don't know. The Evil Queen from Snow White? 😂 They both hear a prophecy warning of their downfall and they act on it and start beef with kids. And the kids end up surviving and winning with the power of love.

If we just take canon V at face value, then he's similar to all fairytale villains. Or to Palpatine, I suppose.

If we look at Voldemort as a more human character, not just Evil TM, then I could see some similarities with Magneto from X-men(at least from one or two universes of that big world): the hate for the muggles/people without mutations that steams from their childhood, their lives were impacted by ww2, both ridiculously powerful, both claiming they fight for wizards/mutants. Also they both have a badass lady as a second in command.

But, ofc, Magneto is allowed to be human, when Voldemort is doomed by the narative and his position as villain in children story. While Magneto is clearly a villain and loves genocide, he at least thinks he's doing the right thing for his kind; Voldemort is just there to be bad.

For Sirius, you can make a case about Aragorn, I suppose? Both come from ancient, noble, rich lineage, but they shy away from the burden of it, they're both good (but rough) men, they are protectors for their respective protagonists, they would die for Harry/Frodo, and they're both fighting this supreme evil that is threatening the world. They both obey basically God on Earth (Albus and Gandalf).

I think it's easier to find Sirius similarities, I can think of some in A song of Ice and Fire, but it's harder for Voldemort because he barely has any 'meat' to his character in canon. He's just there as a lesson for kids, as an obstacle for Harry to overcome.

There is that saying that a story is only as good as it's villain, and it's true. If Harry Potter was anything other than a children's book, than it would be a very bad story, because the villain is just a prop. However, since it's for children, the rules are obviously different. Ironically, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is considered the best book in the series because it had a great villain- Sirius. That book is so beloved because for most of it we believed Sirius to be a villain, and he was real in a way Voldemort never is, he is human, and he is scary.

So it falls on us, the fandom, to give Voldemort something real, to turn him into a person, and we all go in slightly different directions, hence why it's so hard to find a counterpart for him in established literature/cinema.

[witlesswitnesstm]

Hello tumblr, I’m having thoughts.

So, I’ve seen a billion cajillion arguments over Jayvik at this point and I think I have an opinion.

Yes, we need more depictions of intimate male friendships, but we also need more depictions of mlm romances. Most shows still shy away from mlm romances more than wlw romances because it makes men uncomfortable to see male attraction. Wlw romances are deemed to be more “palatable” for the general public because women are perceived as more “innocent and caring” when that’s not always the case. Not to mention those relationships are more easily objectified by men, which is gross. It’s a product of the patriarchy, putting all relationships into boxes just because of people’s genders, both mlm and wlw. I don’t think that’s what the Arcane team intended to do, but it still happens.

At the same time, fandom has always had a bit of a problem with viewing mlm dynamics as strictly sexual and ignoring women in fandom. It’s not fair to focus entirely on mlm ship dynamics within a show while ignoring actual characterization and pushing that belief onto everyone else. Or even blaming women for “getting in the way of mlm ships” (cough cough, looking at those Mel haters.)

This ties into a greater discussion of how men are often written more complex than women, making people want to focus on male relationships. Arcane, I feel like, does a pretty good job at making their women’s writing deeply complex and interesting, but, the finale really rushed over a lot of things to give precedence to Jayce and Viktor. (I love what we got for them, I just wish we had more time for other plots).

Despite a co-creator saying that Jayvik wasn’t romantic, I feel as though the whole team were on different pages as to how they wanted Jayvik to come across. There are so many parallels between Mel and Viktor, and hints that suggest romantic connection, that, I don’t really think you can just turn around and blame the fandom for forming logical conclusions based on what was shown. If they wanted a platonic relationship shown, they should’ve considered carefully what they were putting on screen, and considered audience interpretations. There are good depictions of friendship in arcane, and I especially like the m/f friendships like Jayce and Caitlyn or Vi, Or Vi and Loris, or Ambessa and Rictus. It shows they have the capability to make friendships that don’t have romantic tension at all, despite men and women practically always being shipped, so then, why do all these specific details for Jayvik?

Ambiguously canon mlm relationships are almost a little frustrating to me, because there’s always room for plausible deniability within homophobes. I’ve seen so many people shame others for liking Jayvik and calling them depraved losers and whatnot, and that’s just not, cool. But what’s also not cool is going after aspec people who find comfort in the fact that romance isn’t explicitly shown between Jayvik. I was frustrated at first that they kind of left their relationship up in the air, but I’ve grown to appreciate the different interpretations.

Anyway, something something at least we can all agree that they’re both smoking hot and we as the fandom should share them. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[tabl3cloth450]

Sketch vs final

Tbh, I don't really like this bc I can't flipping color, but it's okay. I've had this au in my head where wukong and Mac are celestial monkies in the literal sense. Y'know where WuKong is actually the daytime sky and sun while Mac is the moon and nighttime sky or kinda like the diety Nyx from Greek mythology (if you know who she is, I love you).

I was thinking of keeping the rest of the crew normal bc one day I want Mac and wukong to leave the sky for a bit and be found by Mk and Mei and they go on adventures together bc WuKong and Mac don't even know what a butterfly is.

So Mk and Mei and the rest of the crew would teach them about "Earth Walkers" (what WuKong and Macaque call the people who live on earth) and basically many other things and it would just be a cute little found family with a bit of angst and a lot of adventure. There are also festivals to celebrate the sky, aka Wukong and Macaque, and they were really touched to find out earth walkers celebrate and appreciate them.

They go by any Pronouns but usually appear more feminine and like more feminine Pronouns(idk of this is weird, sorry). Also, I would like them to be sisters in this au :D.

I don't know what role heaven will play in this bc I really just wanted to make cute sky WuKong and Macaque drawings, but then my brain started making other ideas, and I got really hooked, I was thinking maybe heaven is scared of them and would try to find ways to get rid of them but the problem is that one, they're immortal, and two killing them would pretty much bring an end to all life on earth. Also I don't know if Mk will be a celestial monkey in this au bc half of me just wants to leave him as a monkey demon kinda like the Canon wukong but a lot less powerful than Canon Mk or leave him a as a human idk :').

Sorry for the long rant, but I just wanted to say some ideas I thought were cool :D. You guys could come up with some if you want. <3

[djinmer4]

#sangcheng#soulmate au#this is a really neat idea#only question would be why the nie's weren't looking to arrange something with the people in purple#or oohhhhh nhs is missing a different color

Several different scenarios possible in this case.

1. The Nies have a slightly different culture than the rest of the cultivation world.  Much in the same way they choose to cultivate sabers rather than swords and we don’t get birth names for any of them, Nies are more secretive about their soulmates.  Either they don’t inform the other sects about them or they only start searching at a much later date. (Intended use for JZX and JYL.  The Jins always have potential soulmates meet 1(other):many(Jins).  That means the potential soulmate might not know who their soulmate is, but the Jins can make them go through arrangements anyway.  JYL actually met JZX, LQY, MY and QS all at the same time and her soulmate is actually QS.  JZX knows JYL isn’t his soulmate, but his parents force him to go through the arrangement anyway, which explains why he’s so awful to her in this AU.)

2. The Nies did search but since JC wasn’t thought of as a potential, he was never invited to these play dates and thus never actually met NHS before Gusu.  (Intended for WWX and LWJ.  As a Yunmeng Jiang disciple, red isn’t the first potential color people think of with WWX, so LWJ spent a lot of time meeting people from the Wen and Ouyang sects and not WWX until Gusu.  And while WWX knows LWJ is his soulmate and flirts accordingly, LWJ acts the same way he does in canon, which makes everyone else think they’re not a thing.)

3. Your scenario: NHS is actually missing a different color (green or maybe the aqua color that YZY and JC prefer in CQL) and has been spending a lot of time in Meishan Yu.

Soulmate AU Idea

Starts with the premise that people with soulmates are partially-color blind before they meet their soulmate.  Usually the color they’re missing is something that’s particularly important to their significant other.  Cultivator clans test early, yeah arranged marriages are a thing but you can at least try to match people for better outcomes after all.  Yanli can’t see yellow so Madame Yu and Madame Jin go ahead and arrange to have her married to Jin Zixuan, Wuxian can’t see blue so Fengmian starts arranging for him to go over to Gusu Lan to see if there’s anyone he clicks with.  (There is an incredible amount of miscommunication involved when Lan Zhan suddenly sees red for the first time … and promptly starts bullying Wei Wuxian.)

When they test Jiang Cheng … it looks like he’s not missing any colors at all.  So he grows up, knowing that there are people out there for his sister, for his brother, but no one for him.  Which of course just plays more into his canon insecurity and jealousy.

Fast-forward to the Gusu Lectures.  Jiang Cheng finally gets to join Wei Wuxian on a trip there (”You haven’t been missing much, Chengcheng.”) and meet some of the other people Wei Wuxian’s befriended.  (”Not including the peacock.  Seriously, Yanli’s soulmate has got to be someone else, maybe Mianmian, there’s no way someone that horrible could be her soulmate.”)  And the first time he sees Nie Huaisang, he asks Wei Wuxian what color robe he’s wearing because he never saw that color before.

As it turns out, Jiang Cheng was missing a color all along: grey.

(I suppose that would work by the grey usually being masked by other surrounding colors, sort of the way like shadows on snow look bluish from reflecting the sky.)

[galstelperion]

Conflicted fandom feelings...

So, I don't really have a lot of confidence in JD and Patrick's writing capabilities.

In private circles, I've even been saying that I would be completely fine if they hardly touched the dynamic on screen again. Before you burn me at the stake, I will admit that I don't think this is going to happen, as we've seen through the marketing of the show, they seem to be aware that Sauron and Galadriel is still such a huge selling point. They've said repeatedly in many interviews that the relationship between these two will be a central driving point throughout all five seasons.

All of this to say, the value of the ship should not be completely tied up in whatever ends up happening in the show. The value of the ship should come from the community we've cultivated, as cheesy as that might sound. After season one aired, we had such a huge burst of creativity and I made so many friends just simply through discussing headcanons and building off of each other's ideas.

The second season was not what many of us expected, but that doesn't have to get in the way of our love for this pairing. Fanon is good, actually. Fanon is oftentimes way more gratifying than what the canon provides. The greatest transformative works are often born out of extreme dissatisfaction with the source material. It's just that it takes a lot more work to cultivate. No amount of infighting or begging on your hands and knees is going to change whatever the corporate overlords at amazon have already decided will be the most profitable avenue to take. It's a shame that these are the metrics by which art is being created, but instead of stressing over it and speculating endlessly, I've personally decided to just let whatever happens happen. If I continue to be dissatisfied, well... I will always have my own fanon and community of people here to fall back on.

Rather than worrying about things we can't control, we could instead turn our focus on creating a more creative and fruitful space. Just some food for thought...

[arklayraven]

Feel I could of wrote this better but am too tired to try again. So have this mess as is. lol

As very upsetting and heartbreaking, even angering a bit, the news about OM is.

I am grateful for the game for something it introduced me to and gave.

Inclusivity.

Before OM, I didn't play much games of the genre because didn't think there was much that I could play that would be inclusive to me as a queer trans person. Then OM came along, a otome, that I randomly found and tried finally one day, but with its own personal twist and style.

That twist/style being, small to some but huge and meaningful to others. A gender less/neutral MC, with no appearance (unless you count the sheep lol), who canonly uses they/them pronouns and was one perfect for people to self insert themselves in. Than feel they are playing a typical generic woman MC in a otome game.

And because of this fact, all the characters who are romanceable and dateable are by default canonly queer. Because they love the MC regardless of their gender identity or lack of. (Headcanoning them pan lol 💗💛💙)

Now, some have tried to say, argue in fact, that because of this, OM isn't a otome, but that is very wrong because it still is one, and people were just gatekeeping at this point. Even were against the whole fact words can evolve/expand on meaning throughout the years. I've talked too much about this issue, that you can find my posts about it I'm sure if you look, but i'll share them again soon if needed.

Some even say the MC isn't gender less/neutral, to fight against this to keep other players than cis hetero women from playing it too. Even though we have constant proof of this, and even the devs said it themselves and explained their decision for it.

(As well people were being openly queerphobic at this point, especially when they said the characters weren't canonly queer when they are. Because it made them upset to admit the fact they were romancing a canon queer character(s) in the game. They are canonly queer. Deal with it. <3)

It was a feature, the devs didn't need to make and add I feel to make their game a success. But they did still anyway and am entirely grateful for it, because I feel this only inspired some other game devs, (specifically some indie VNs ones) to do same/similar like them with their own MC in games.

There has been some other well known big name otome games who tried this too, but not as well as OM I feel. At least not as yet. Though some introduced the option to be either a man or woman in those games now, some even give the option to be nonbinary too if lucky.

But not many games do this a lot, not enough I feel compared to others. Though its still something when it finally happens, and the change/impact from OM has been felt and seen I feel. Which makes me happy when it comes to more inclusivity in those games and genre when included.

Currently still, inclusivity in these games are still a rarity I feel in times. Might be a even bigger battle to have more of it in the future with how things have been getting for queer and trans peoples rights and all...But I hope with OM closing this chapter of their life with the games. It'll inspire others to make their own games with such lovely inclusivity or even more, like OM has.

So to anyone who made a game inspired by OM, who has a self insert MC who is inclusive any and all players, regardless of their gender identity or lack of...

Thank you. Thank you so much for giving us that small but meaningful option for us players. So that we may be able to play and engage with your game/story/characters more deeply and personally. Than feel unwelcomed or not allowed to be included just because of our queer and gender(or lack of) identity. 💕

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

let's take a chance and fly away somewhere alone

a steddie upsidedown au oneshot

||Jonathan Byers & Nancy Wheeler & Barbara Holland || Nancy Wheeler/Jonathan Byers || ~17k, complete || Complicated Relationships || Canon Typical Violence || Trauma || Mutual Pining || Friendship ||

Nancy’s jaw felt tight–aching with how hard she's clenching it as she walks the halls of the school. Beside her, Barb’s shoulders were curling forward, rounding in in a way that made her furious. If she’d known going to one of Steve Harrington’s famous parties would end like this, she wouldn’t have bothered.

They’d both heard the rumors by now. They’d seemingly circled throughout the school, passed on from person to person like a messed up game of telephone. It’d started innocuously, word spreading that she’d had a fight with Steve, and Barb had been there, but by the time she’d reached her locker,  it’d mutated beyond recognition.

Nancy had glared at the girls loitering by her locker that morning as one whispered in the ear of the other, purposefully loud enough to carry—Did you hear Steve Harrington’s loser girlfriend tried to get his friend to fuck hers? 

She’s heard too many iterations to count. Barb tried to have sex with Tommy, and stormed out of the party when he said no. Nancy tried to have a threesome with Barb and Steve. And, most hurtful, Steve cheated on Nancy with Barb.

Each one was whispered with such weight, like they didn’t have any other cares in the world. Not grades, not extracurriculars, not even the fact that there’s still a kid missing. Jonathan Byers keeps putting up missing posters, but that’s yesterday’s news. There’s new gossip to be passed around. 

Everyone knew someone who knew someone who’d seen it all go down last night in the Harrington’s living room. No one, apparently, had seen Tommy call Barb a loser and then drench her in his shaken up beer. 

Worse, Steve wasn’t here to put the rumors to rest, his words holding more weight than either Nancy or Barb’s. She was starting to worry that he’d skipped on purpose—who knows what excuses had come out of his own mouth once they’d left.

By lunch, she’s ready to stand up on a table and shout, if only it would stop everyone from looking at them.

“It’s not worth it,” Barb mutters as they sink into their old, familiar seats in the cafeteria, abandoned weeks ago for the more central popular table.

It’s nice, almost, to be back to just the two of them, no boyfriends or parties where people picked on her friend.

“Do you think Steve knows about this?” Nancy asks, voice hushed as she glares around the cafeteria, huffing as peering faces suddenly whip down to full lunch trays when their gazes lock.

Barb doesn’t answer right away. She picks at her tepid lasagna, not meeting Nancy’s eyes. 

“Barb?”

She sighs. “I don’t know,” she says, that mulish tilt to her chin that only comes out when she’s made up her mind but isn’t admitting to it. “I never thought he was good enough for you.”

Nancy picks up a carrot stick and bites it in two with a sharp snap. Steve wouldn’t have done this, not on purpose; she knows it. But one way or another, she’ll find him after school and get to the bottom of this. And if he had? She knew of an extremely sharp drop-off in the quarry he could stumble off. 

Barb plays reluctant chauffeur after school, idling in her car as Nancy pounds on the Harrington’s front door. 

Even though his car’s in the driveway, no one answers. 

Nancy goes around the side of the house. The gate’s still open, and the yard’s a mess of cups and overturned chairs, exactly as she’d seen it last night.

A kernel of worry sinks into her gut. Steve’s fussy about a lot of things—his hair, his possessions, his clothes—and she’d always thought that would transfer over to his own house. And yet, he’d left it like this?

The sound of a car door slamming echoes through the deserted cul-de-sac followed by Barb’s jogging steps.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demands.

Nancy tries the side door, peeking her head through when it opens. “His car’s here,” she says, stepping inside when no one immediately jumps out to arrest her. “He’s here.”

“So you break and enter?” Barb demands, but she follows Nancy inside, shutting the door behind her. 

“Steve?” Nancy calls. 

The house is big enough that her voice seems to bounce off the walls and echo right back at her. No one else says a word. She makes her way through the house, kicking abandoned cups out of the way.

She jogs up the stairs, Barb hot on her heels. When she reaches Steve’s bedroom door, she knocks quietly before pushing it open just enough to poke her head in and peer inside. 

It’s neater than she’d expected, what with the state of the rest of the house. There’s nothing on the floor aside from his backpack, no clutter on his desk, no clothes strewn about. His bed’s even made. 

“Steve?” she calls again.

No one responds, so she steps inside, peeking into his en suite bathroom, opening his closet, pulling back his blankets like he can somehow be inside. She stalls in the middle of the room, surrounded by Steve’s things, no boy in sight. 

Something that feels uncomfortably close to worry starts to pool in her stomach. “Where would he have gone?” she asks the empty room.

Barb’s the one that answers with an exasperated, “I don’t know, Nancy.” Nancy turns to find her standing in the entryway to Steve’s bedroom, arms crossed, clearly fed up with all of this. “Maybe he’s off with his parents vacationing in Europe or something. Who cares? Can we go before someone calls the police?”

Nancy looks around the empty room again. “Will is missing, though,” she replies. “Do you really think that’s a coincidence?”

Barb throws her hands in the air with a vehement, “yes!” 

Barb’s exclamation rings through Steve’s bedroom, filling up all that vacant air. 

“What if something’s wrong?”

Barb sighs, slumping down and softening her voice. “Look, I’m sure he’s fine,” she says. “If he’s not in school tomorrow, you can always ask those two trolls if they’ve seen him.”

Nancy nods, looking down at her feet. She doesn’t want to talk to Carol or Tommy who very clearly share her mutual dislike. But, Steve’s not allowed to just up and leave when he owes her an apology and answers both. 

***

They use the side entrance to leave again. Barb’s tiptoeing out, some part of her waiting for Steve Harrington to step out of the recesses of his house and call the cops on them. But, when she closes the door behind them with a quiet click, all that greets them is silence. 

The pool’s got plastic cups floating in it, and there’s a pile of what looks like vomit gathering flies by the diving board. Her nose wrinkles when she catches a whiff. 

“Come on,” Barb says, heading toward the still-open gate and her waiting car. But Nancy’s circling the perimeter of the pool in the exact opposite direction. “Nancy?”

“I just want to make sure he’s not back here,” she says, peering into the trees like Harrington will be passed out drunk in the woods almost twenty-four hours after his rager ended. 

Barb stands by the gate, glaring at Nancy’s back until it’s entirely obscured by trees. All this fuss for a boy who couldn’t even be bothered to show up and apologize. 

Something snaps in the woods, like Nancy stepped on a felled branch and it broke beneath her foot. Nancy calls, “Steve?” and Barb’s ready to roll her eyes at whatever practical joke the guy’s pulling, but then there’s another sound.

It’s guttural, and twisted up on itself, and entirely indescribable. Nancy gasps, and there’s a thump. That’s when Barb comes running. Her sneaker slips on a wet patch and she almost goes tumbling into the pool.

Nancy rushes out of the forest, barreling into her hard enough to send both of them sprawling on the hard pavement. Nancy jumps up, yanking Barb upright right alongside her before dragging her by the wrist, trotting toward the gate at a fast clip.

“What happened?” Barb asks, craning her neck to look behind her, trying to catch sight of whatever made that noise, whatever freaked Nancy out this much. “What did you see?”

Nancy doesn’t answer until they’ve both slipped into the car and Nancy’s locked her door with shaking hands. Sensing the urgency of the moment, Barb hits her own lock and starts the car, backing out as quickly as she can.

Nancy stays twisted in her seat, peering out the back window until they’re down the Harrington’s long driveway and off his street entirely. “Nancy?”

Nancy finally turns forward, face blanched white. “There was something in the woods,” she says. 

“What, like a wolf?” Barb asks, thinking of that sound, the way it almost echoed through her head. 

When Barb glances away from the road, Nancy’s shaking her head. “It was bipedal,” she replies, staring at the windshield more than through it. “And it had no face.”

Barb scrunches up her face. “Like a person in a ski-mask?” she asks. It hadn’t sounded like a person. It hadn’t even sounded like a wolf. Barb never wants to hear it again. 

Nancy shakes her head, and all she says is, “I have a terrible feeling about this.”

Barb does, too. She wants to go home, and forget this entire day completely. She almost manages it, but it all comes rushing back when Harrington still doesn’t show the next day.

Barb nibbles on her lunch, watching Nancy talk to Carol and Tommy in hushed whispers. Tommy leans back in his chair, laughing at whatever Nancy said. Carol doesn’t look amused, but when Tommy wraps his arm around her, she leans into his side, glaring up at Nancy. 

Whatever Carol says next has Nancy storming out of the cafeteria entirely, not even glancing at where Barb’s sitting at their usual table. She still follows, the remains of her lunch left abandoned on the table, but Nancy’s nowhere in sight. 

There’s a pit sinking into her stomach as she walks to her next class without Nancy by her side. 

*** 

Jonathan doesn’t stay for the well-wishes and the throwing of the roses. He can’t, not surrounded by all these people who know Will–knew Will. Not when his Mom’s standing right beside him and still a million miles away. 

He shuffles out of the graveyard, head bowed, shoulders curled, hoping to remain unnoticed. He collapses on the sidewalk, letting his head rest against the fence surrounding it even though it’s rusted. Maybe he’ll get tetanus and die. Is that how tetanus works?

Will was always the smart one, but now there’s a grave with his name on it, not even a body to bury beneath all that dirt.

He knows he should feel bad, that’s what a good brother would feel, but all Jonathan feels is empty, sucked dry of everything. His whole life’s crumbled at his feet, and he feels nothing. 

Something warm settles against his side. He sighs, expecting his mom, but it’s Nancy Wheeler, smiling uncomfortably across at him.

“Hey,” she says, quietly. Private.

“Hey.”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Jonathan feels his lips quirk up, but it’s a nothing gesture, empty of everything. “We are talking.”

“Steve’s missing,” she says, no further preamble wasted on useless condolences.

It takes him a second to connect the name to a face, but when he does, Jonathan leans away, creating distance between their bodies without having to get up. He keeps staring at her face, waiting for her to continue, but that’s apparently it. “Why would he be here?” he asks, words coming out dead on arrival. 

“No,” Nancy says, scrunching her nose up. “No one’s seen him since the party.”

Jonathan knows the party she means. He’s got a few photos from it in his room right now, developed in haste in the school’s darkroom. But there hadn’t been any hints of Will, no matter how hard he’d scoured them. 

He’d still kept them, couldn’t bear to throw them away. There was just something about the way when you flipped through them, the people slowly dwindled, shrinking down until the photo was just of two subjects. 

Steve Harrington, hand clenched as it drips blood onto the grass beneath him while Eddie Munson sits, staring up at him with his usual manic grin where he sits beside the pool. 

Jonathan had left not long after. He knew what that particular look on King Steve’s face meant, and he wasn’t keen to get caught in the fallout.

“Did you call the cops?” Jonathan asks because that’s what he’s supposed to ask, right?

Nancy nods, throat bobbing as she swallows. “They’re not doing anything,” she says, and there’s something righteous in the way she sits up straighter, neck high, spine stiff. 

What would it be like to live in Nancy Wheeler’s world, where everything is just so? Where you’ve got the time and money to dot every i in your planner, cross every t? Where every minor injustice is immediately rectified? 

Jonathan’s just so tired. 

But then Nancy says, “even after I told them what I saw,” under her breath, and an electric current runs through him. 

He leans back toward her. “What did you see?” he asks fervently. 

She ducks her head as he gets close, picking at the seam on the end of her black dress with perfectly rounded fingernails. “I went back to Steve’s to look for him,” she asks, lilting up at the end like it’s a question, so Jonathan nods. “And I thought I…saw something. Some weird man?” she glances at him out of the corner of her eyes before shaking her head. “I don’t know what it was.”

She stops talking again, pursing her lips. Jonathan wants to reach over and pluck the words from her throat. “Why are you telling me?”

Nancy straightens, turning fully to him again as she says, “your brother, and now Steve,” before stalling out, biting her lip as she finally meets his eyes. “I just thought, maybe you’d seen something?”

He stares at her, mind ticking away against the fog he’s been in since they’d fished Will out of the quarry. He must take too long, though because she starts to stand, muttering quiet apologies, as she smooths down her dress.

“Wait!” Jonathan cries, desperation bubbling out of him until he’s reaching for her arm and gripping it too tightly. She drops to her knees, and Jonathan lets go, holding his own wrist to his chest like it’s the one with a blooming red mark on it. “Sorry, just…”

But he trails off, not sure what to say. It’s just that Nancy had seen a man, and he’s at his brother’s funeral, and nothing is connecting right in his brain anymore. “What did he look like?” he asks finally, after another too-long pause.

Nancy settles back down, almost smiling as she shakes her head and says, “I don’t know.” Jonathan thinks that’s it, because the smile drops and she’s looking down at the pavement. “It was almost like he, like he—”

“Didn’t have a face?” Jonathan says it by rote, finishing the same delusions his Mom has been spouting.

But Nancy’s meeting his eyes now, brows furrowed as she asks, “how did you know that?”

The thing that bubbles up in Jonathan now is delicate. Dangerous. He’d just buried his brother, but Mom’s been talking to him through the lights for days. If one delusion is true, who’s to say another isn’t. 

Hope is the most dangerous killer, but he grasps it with both hands. 

*** 

“What’s up with you?” Barb finally asks, unable to stand the quiet a moment longer.

Nancy startles, eyes wide as she whips her head around to look at Barb for the first time since she’d hopped into her car before school.

“What do you mean?”

Barb sighs. “Is this still about Steve?” she asks.

Harrington’s corner of the cafeteria has been growing quieter every day, the empty spot where he usually sits growing a presence of its own. Like, even in absentia, Harrington is determined to haunt their minds.

Nancy smiles, but it’s her fake, lying to her parents' smile – she’s never used it on Barb before. “I’m fine, Barb.”

Barb digs her ragged nails into the steering wheel, jaw clenching painfully as she pulls into a parking spot. Nancy keeps up her prattling small talk all the way to class, like covering up the silence with meaningless words will distract Barb enough that she’ll forget the car was ever quiet at all.

Something’s wrong though, and Barb won’t be shaken off, so when she sees Nancy skulking around with Jonathan Byers of all people, Barb trails them. It’s better than eating lunch alone again.

They disappear into the dark room, Jonathan flipping the sign on the door to “in use, please knock” before letting the door slide shut. The hallway’s deserted, so Barb presses her ear to it, just barely able to hear the intonation of their words through its thick wood. She stays there long enough to grow bored, torn between barging in and walking away, when the volume of Nancy’s voice raises.

“That’s it!” she says, “that’s what I saw.”

Her mind goes to that sound, the inhuman growl that had sent Nancy running. Alone in the brightly lit hallway, Barb freezes like she’s prey being hunted by something bigger and scarier than she is.

She wants to leave. 

But Nancy’s in there, doing something stupid the way only she can, so she knocks. All noise on the other side of the door stops entirely for a second before whispering starts up, too quiet for her to make out.

When the door finally opens, it’s not Nancy behind it, but Jonathan. Up close, she can see the bags under his eyes from too many sleepless nights, the way the worry lines at the side of his mouth look like they’ve somehow been permanently etched into his skin in the past few days.

Barb’s never been in the dark room, but it’s about what she expected: a cramped bare room with a couple of sinks and a clothesline, all bathed in a light so red that it feels like it’s drilling into her skull. 

When she steps in, Jonathan skulks away from her toward the corner, like she’s switched from prey to predator. Behind him, Nancy’s got her fingers frozen mid-reach toward a photo. Barb ignores Jonathan to go look at the photo she’s standing in front of.

It’s grainy and dark, but she can Eddie Munson grinning, and the edge of someone else’s arm, and there, on the edge of the photo, is something else. It looks tall, like its body has been distorted, fingers stretched out to improbable points. 

“That thing has Harrington?” Barb asks, leaning closer, trying to get a better look at it, but there’s not much to see. Where the face should be, there’s what looks like folds of skin, tightly sealed against each other.

She tries to imagine the thing making that sound, and can’t. There’s no mouth visible by which it could growl through.

“And maybe Eddie Munson.” Nancy says, and Barb looks back at the guy’s grinning face. She hasn’t been subjected to a tabletop rant all week. 

“And Will,” Jonathan says, finally uncurling from the corner to join them by the picture.

“Isn’t he dead?” she asks, wincing once she realizes what she’d just said, and who she’d said it to. She hadn’t gone to the funeral, but she was there when the news broke, saw the shock of such a young death hit the small town. 

“Mom doesn’t think so,” Jonathan replies, not meeting her eyes. 

Barb looks back at the thing in the photo. There’s no way it’s real, probably doctored or a prank gone wrong, but even with her feet planted firmly against the floor, all she wants to do is run out of the room and never look back.

But, Nancy’s here, and she’s clearly not leaving, so all Barb says is, “what’s the plan to get them back?”

*** 

The car’s quiet, the heater pushing around stagnant air the only sound aside from Nancy’s well-loved Blondie tape, still stuffed into Barb’s car’s tape deck. Halfway to Nancy’s house, Barb reaches out and smacks the eject button abruptly enough that Nancy flinches at the sudden movement.

“You’re mad,” Nancy says, not looking away from the cassette now sticking out of the player, waiting to be taken out or pressed back in.

Barb snorts, but doesn’t reply. Nancy’s hands curl into fists in her lap.

She loves Barb—she’s her best friend, but that doesn’t make her any less frustrating. It’s like she doesn’t know how to face an emotion head on. Sadness comes out as isolation, and anger? That comes out in snide comments and cold silences.

Nancy hates it.

“Can we just talk about it?” Nancy asks, glancing at Barb out of the corner of her eye, wincing at the way her jaw’s clenched. “Just this once? There’s a monster, and we don’t really have time for—“

“That’s the problem, Nancy,” Barb interrupts, voice even, tone cold. “There’s a monster, and instead of telling me you, what? Snuck around behind my back with that loser, Jonathan?”

“Jonathan’s not a loser,” Nancy replies quietly.

“God, Nancy!” Barb throws her hands in the air in clear exasperation, before grabbing the steering wheel again as the car swerves toward the sidewalk. “That’s not the point, and you know it!”

Nancy looks down at her lap, picking at the debris beneath her nails as the silence settles between them, a third passenger looming in the backseat. Barb’s right; she does know what Barb’s talking around, the question she wants answered without having to ask it.

Why did Nancy tell Jonathan Byers and not her?

“You don’t like Steve,” Nancy says, finally glancing Barb’s way. Her fingers are clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to turn white, and there’s that same mulish tilt to her jaw, but she’s not interrupting, so Nancy keeps speaking, keeps answering unasked questions.

“And I thought Jonathan might know something, you know, with his brother?” Nancy asks, wincing when that just gets another huff.

It’s the truth, but there’s a bigger, deeper truth that she doesn’t want to speak into existence, doesn’t want to give the weight of her words, lest it come true. But, that’s just useless superstition—the same kind of horse shit that makes Steve wear the same pair of tube socks for every away game.

So, when Barb still doesn’t have anything to say, she opens her mouth, and voices it out into the world. “Mike’s devastated, after Will,” she says, picking at her nails again, digging her thumbnail hard enough into the cuticle of the pinkie on her opposite hand that a bead of blood wells up. “And this seems dangerous, Barb. That thing in the woods? It was—it was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Barb parallel parks in front of Nancy’s house so her dad doesn’t get mad about being blocked in, and cuts the engine. When Nancy looks over at her, Barb’s looking back, eyebrows still furrowed, but she’s no longer got a death grip on the wheel, and her jaw’s relaxed, teeth no longer grinding themselves into nubs.

Nancy meets Barb’s piercing gaze and finally says what she’s been talking around. “I don’t want to lose my best friend, too.”

Barb softens, reaching across the distance, the silence, the secrets separating them to take Nancy’s hand. Her fingers are soft as they squeeze around her own.

“I’m not going  anywhere,” Barb says, squeezing her hand once, hard enough that Nancy jolts. “And you’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you go search for your boyfriend alone.”

Nancy laughs. She doesn’t bring up that Jonathan will be there, the moment too fragile and easy to shatter. “Steve’s not my boyfriend.”

Barb snorts, noise full of humor this time, as she steps out of the car, Nancy following her lead. “You might want to tell him that.”

Nancy’s mouth twists. Maybe she’ll tell Steve, maybe she’ll fall into his arms, maybe they’ll yell at each other about their fight at the party and go their separate ways. She’s not sure, but it doesn’t matter right now. First, they have to find him.

*** 

It turns out to be less of a plan, and more of reenacting a hodgepodge of training montages that they’d seen on TV. Barb can’t even blame them—as Nancy practices swinging a baseball bat like she in any way knows how, she’s doing the exact same with the crow bar nabbed from Ted Wheeler’s trunk.

They look like fools, and if there really is a monster, they’re going to die, but Barb still climbs back into her car and drives them out to meet Jonathan. She’s in this now, had damn-near begged to be involved, and no matter how stupid this whole thing is, she’ll stick it out to the end.

They go to her house next, but it’s got less options for weapons than Nancy’s own, neither of her parents sporty enough for a bat or handy enough to own a crow bar. They sit out on the front porch, waiting for Jonathan to show up after grabbing his own supplies.

When he finally arrives, Barb climbs into the backseat without complaint.

Her conviction is tested as she stands behind Jonathan and Nancy, watching as they flirt their way through a shooting lesson, somehow segueing from Jonathan’s failed hunting trip as a kid into their parent’s failed relationships.

“Yeah, I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point, but I wasn’t around for that part,” Jonathan says, lowering the gun after failing miserably to hit even one of the glass bottles he was aiming for.

Nancy holds out her hand impatiently, and Barb watches as she looks down at the gun like she’s never seen one before. “I don’t think my parents ever loved each other,” she says, and Barb flinches.

Nancy’s parents have always been a sore subject. Her dad’s as absent as a parent you live with can be, and her mom flits around Nancy like she’s trying to relive her glory days through her daughter. These sorts of conversations are usually reserved for two in the morning during sleepovers, the space between them in the bed just enough to keep their shoulders from brushing.

Hearing her talk about it so freely now, makes jealousy churn in Barb’s stomach like bile.

“They must have married for some reason,” Jonathan says, staring at Nancy with a focus that makes Barb twitch.

“My mom was young, my dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

There’s scorn in Nancy’s voice—it’s the way she always sounds when she talks about her parents’ relationship, but she’s not talking to Barb this time. Barb’s behind her, almost a specter in this moment, lost in the face of attention from Jonathan Byers.

It almost makes her wish Harrington was back, such a shallow pool of a boy that there was no way Nancy was ever going to stick around. There was always a looming end to their relationship, and it looks like it’s well past its expiration date, with the way Nancy’s flirting with Byers right now.

“Screw that,” Jonathan says, and Nancy smiles, shoulders shoring up like what he said was profound, unexpected, unique.

Barb and Nancy had made plans to get out of here together. Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, anywhere with people who had bigger dreams than settling down and marrying the closest eligible bachelor. As she watches Nancy line up the gun, squinting at the targets with the same focus she usually reserves for pop quizzes, Barb can feel that future crumbling beneath her feet.

“Yeah, screw that,” Nancy says, punctuating her words with the loud bang of the gun going off, exploding one of the glass bottles with unerring accuracy.

Barb claps condescendingly. Jonathan and Nancy both whirl, clearly having forgotten she was there at all based on their wide eyes. “Congratulations, Nance, you’re a crack shot,” she says. Nancy’s cheeks darken, whether from the compliment or being caught flirting with Byers, she’s not sure. “Now can we get this show on the road? Daylight’s burning.”

Jonathan nods, picking up the bat and not meeting anyone’s eyes as they shuffle off into the woods to look for a monster that probably doesn’t exist, no matter what Jonathan’s camera had captured in grainy film.

*** 

“You’re cooler than I thought you would be,” Jonathan says, walking close enough that their shoulders brush.

Nancy elects to pretend she can’t hear Barb scoffing from behind them. “Yeah?” she asks, smiling down at her feet as she steps over a root in her path.

“Yeah,” Jonathan replies, swinging the bat foward to hold a branch out of their way, waiting until even Barb’s made it through before jogging to catch back up with Nancy. “When you started seeing Harrington, I thought maybe you were just like the rest of them, but now? I don’t know.”

Nancy’s gut sinks. She takes a step to the left, creating distance between them, face dropping into a scowl. “Steve’s actually a good guy, you know,” she says, unsure if she even believes her own words. She had thought so before, but after Steve had defended Tommy H’s actions at his party, she wasn’t so sure anymore. But Steve’s missing, and he deserves the chance to explain himself.

“Sure he is,” Jonathan replies, tone derisive.

Nancy bristles, angry, as she replies, “Steve’s missing,” like it’ll mean anything to him. Maybe it does, because he goes catastrophically quiet beside her, the only sound filling the silence the sound of their stomping feet. That’s almost worse, somehow. Nancy doesn’t want this quiet; she wants a fight—something, anything that’ll get this bubbling dread out of her throat.

“You know, I was actually starting to think you were okay,” she says, waiting until she feels Jonathan’s gaze on her to continue speaking. “I was thinking, Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.”

Jonathan snorts, sounding so much like Barb that Nancy glances back at her. She’s walking a few feet behind, crow bar still clutched in her hands as she looks down at her feet, clearly uninterested in joining the conversation.

Looking at her now, all Nancy wants to do is go back to when things were simpler, last week, last month, last year. It’s been nearly a decade of just the two of them—she’d had Barb, and Barb had her, and that’s all they’d needed. Steve had changed that. Something had twisted in on itself, Barb taking the change in lunch tables like a betrayal, and now she’s not sure how to crawl back in time to where they were before.

She’s not sure she wants to.

“Well, I was starting to think you were okay,” Jonathan says, and she snaps back to the present, turning forward to find a pretentious sneer plastered on his face.

“Oh,” she says, watching as his face cracks right down the middle, something gaping and hollow shining out of his eyes as he lands the final blow.

“I was thinking, Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock that now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of the cul-de-sac exactly like their par—“

“Hey!” Barb snarls, pushing between them and crowding into Jonathan’s space, crowbar held like a silent threat. “If you finish that sentence, I’ll put this crowbar somewhere you won’t enjoy.”

To emphasize her point, Barb raises the crow bar above her head and steps forward until Jonathan’s back hits the trunk of a tree. He looks like a startled deer, doe eyes wide and scared in a way that would usually make Nancy feel bad, but his words are still ringing in her ears, cruel and pointed unerringly at her soft underbelly.

Nancy continues walking, and it’s Barb that catches up and takes her rightful place at her side, Jonathan trailing behind, a quiet skulking shadow to their fruitless searching.

By the time the sun’s setting, Nancy’s worried that there’s nothing to find.

But before she can open her mouth and suggest they turn back, she hears it: a quiet, moaning sound that makes her blood pound, fight or flight kicking in harder than ever before. She stops, Barb and Jonathan halting with her as she tries to strain her ears past the sound of her blood rushing through her ears.

“What’s—” Jonathan starts before she shushes him, eyes closed in concentration, hand raised to silence them both.

It happens again, and Barb clearly hears it as well because she immediately starts walking that direction, stepping cautiously, clearly trying not to make any sound. Nancy and Jonathan follow, the darkness hemming them all in.

She doesn’t know what she expects, but the deer isn’t it. It’s on its side, blood leaking slowly from its side, leg mangled, panting like a dog left out in the sun to bake. Barb and Jonathan just stare, but Nancy drops down, fingers fluttering over its side like there’s anything at all she could do.

“It’s been hit by a car,” she says, finally brushing her fingers against its bloody flank, like somehow her touch will heal it. All it does is pant and moan. “We can’t leave it.”

When she looks up, Barb’s looking down at the gun in Nancy’s pocket. Nancy shudders, but stands and draws it out, pointing it at the poor thing’s head. She shudders, staring into its rolling eyes, gut roiling right along with it.

“I can do it,” Jonathan says, taking the gun before she even responds.

She’s a better shot—she doesn’t take the gun back, the emptiness in her hand feeling worryingly like relief. Jonathan lines up the gun, hand shaking slightly. It won’t matter from the close of a range, but he doesn’t get a chance to pull the trigger.

There’s a growl, something unearthly and clacking, and the deer’s yanked sideways so abruptly that her eyes can’t follow its movement. Then it’s just—gone.

“What was that?” Jonathan asks, lowering the gun, eyes wide.

When Nancy looks at Barb, there’s a knowing look in her eyes. Nancy’s not surprised; they’d both heard that same sound outside the Harrington house.

“Did it leave a blood trail?” Barb asks, and Nancy looks down. There’s nothing there, the deer’s body snatched up too quickly to leave any of it remaining.

“It can’t have gone far,” Nancy replies, already walking forward, eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.

Barb follows her, but Jonathan goes a separate direction without a word, slinking off to search nearby patches of the woods. It’s quiet, so quiet Nancy can hear Barb’s rapid breathing in her ear, can hear Jonathan’s steps as he foolishly separates from the group.

There’s nothing but trees, dark and silent around her, almost choking her with the fear of the dark she was sure she’d kicked years ago. But, this isn’t just the dark—there’s something in here with her, she knows it.

It’s still just trees, but she stops, stunned as she stares at the bark of one of them, squinting as she trains the beam of her flashlight precisely on it. It’s red, and she’d think it was blood if it wasn’t for the way it was almost pulsing, like the tree had a heart beating beneath all that wood.

“Nancy!” Barb hisses, and it’s only then that she realizes she’s reaching out to touch it.

It’s colder than the air around it, a shock to her system as she presses against the tree, only for it to give under her touch. It feels like pinching an egg’s yoke between her fingers, cold and sticky before the membrane gives and splatters back into the bowl with the whites.

Her whole hand goes through, then her arm, then the rest of her until she’s all the way through, Barb’s panicking voice still calling her name, words now muffled like she’s talking through a straw.

She’s still in the woods, but it’s colder now, and the sky’s a nauseating red, almost pulsing the way the tree had. She stares up at it, heart almost beating straight out of her chest. But then there’s a sound, wet and slurping, and Nancy looks back down.

It’s not a man in a ski mask like Barb had asked. It’s not human at all, despite the way it stands on two legs, hunched over the dead deer, impossible mouth pressed into its intestines. The deer twitches with the thing’s movements, body jittering around almost like it’s gasping for breath.

Nancy can’t help it—she screams.

The thing stops eating its meal, somehow looking straight at her even with its lack of eyes. She stands frozen as the thing straightens, looming over her with its impossible height, backlit by the deep red sky. Nancy shrinks into the trunk of the tree behind her as it takes a threatening step forward.

Then, Jonathan’s voice joins Barb’s, almost drowning it out as he calls for her, trying to get her to come back, like she’s not frozen like a fly beneath a microscope, pressed between two slides.

But then Jonathan says, “follow my voice!” and without question, she does, slinking slowly sideways, matching the thing step for step in a dance she never wanted to be a part of. She doesn’t look away until her hand touches a tree and sinks in. She turns, peering into the red hole in the world she’d slipped through.

She’s about to slip right back out the way she’d come and hope she can make it before that thing gets her, but before she can, she hears a scream, loud and angry and terribly human. She spins back around just in time to watch Steve Harrington, dirty and bloody and alive, punch the monster in the head and flee into the woods, that horrible thing right behind him.

“Steve?” she calls, staring at where he’d just disappeared, willing him to come back. He doesn’t.

“Eddie!” She turns toward the shout, and there’s Will Byers, yanking a resisting Eddie Munson toward her.

She reaches out when they’re close enough, snatching Eddie’s hand and falling back toward the hole in the world, hoping the momentum of her falling body weight is enough to yank him and Will both through. She tumbles painfully to the other side, Will and Eddie on top of her restricting her breathing until Eddie scrambles up off her and pounds against the tree trunk, now a damningly normal brown color, and wails for Steve Harrington, trapped and alone in that horrible place they’d just fled.

*** 

Jonathan stares at his little brother, his little brother, dirty and tired, but whole in front of him. The brother he’d identified a body for, had picked out a coffin for, had lowered into the ground, never to be seen again.

And now he’s here, staring at Eddie Munson having a meltdown in the dirt.

“Will?” Jonathan says, voice strangled as it croaks out of his throat.

Will turns, brown eyes wide as he looks up at Jonathan. That’s all it takes to get him moving, knees hitting the dirt hard as he scoops Will into his chest, grip almost crushing as Will melts into him, small arms going around his waist.

“You’re okay,” Jonathan murmurs into Will’s greasy hair, like he can make it true, even as Will shakes in his arms, never taking his eyes off Eddie. “You’re okay, right? You’re okay.”

Will doesn’t respond, instead calling, “Eddie?”

Eddie turns, eyes wild, clearly not all there even now that he’s stopped clawing at the bark on the tree like it’ll somehow open for him and let him go back to wherever he’d been. Jonathan wants to hide Will behind his body, shield him from whatever the hell’s wrong with Munson.

“I’ve got to go back,” he says, finally turning away from Will to look up at Nancy with those same imploring eyes. “How do I go back?”

Jonathan turns his head toward her, still clutching at Will’s shaking frame. Nancy’s shaking too, voice trembling right along with her as she says, “I don’t—I don’t know,” with more hesitation than he’s ever heard from self-assured Nancy Wheeler.

“Why the hell would we go back?” Barb asks, finally voicing Jonathan’s own thoughts into the world.

Eddie’s hysterics reach a fever pitch at that—he sobs into the dirt, no longer looking any direction at all. Jonathan presses a kiss to the top of Will’s head, ignoring the way dust coats his lips, because Will’s shaking worse now, as he says, “it’s Steve,” voice quacking with emotions Jonathan doesn’t, can’t, understand. “He’s still in there.”

Steve Harrington, the jock, the king, has Eddie Munson, has his brother, quaking with emotion at the thought of losing him. It writhes in his gut, a rancid jealousy, he can’t voice. It curdles more, the dregs of a milk carton turning viscous and sweet on the kitchen’s counter as Will climbs into the backseat of his car and latches onto Munson like he’s the only thing keeping him tethered to his seat.

That used to be Jonathan’s job—how could so much have changed in five of the longest days in Jonathan’s life?

The car’s quiet as Jonathan drives, steering wheel creaking beneath his grip until he pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine.

When they get to the house, it’s in disarray—Mom’s hung Christmas lights haphazardly in the living room, the dining table’s overturned, and the same dishes have been in the sink long enough to mold. 

He’s sure Harrington’s house is pristine, it probably smells like lilacs instead of the mildew and damp that’s always clung to their home. The roof’s been leaking for years, and the insulation doesn’t keep it from rotting the walls somewhere underneath where they can’t quite reach.

“Mom?” Jonathan calls, desperate suddenly to see her, to have their family unit together when he’d thought they never would be again. “Mom?”

He goes through the house, turning on lights and opening doors, but it’s an empty shell, no one inside.

He stalls out, unsure of next moves as Nancy orders him around his own house. He follows her lead, making sandwiches, and doing the dishes, one eye on Will where he’s curled up on the couch, tucked into Munson’s side.

Jonathan’s not hungry, but he eats his sandwich anyway, watching as Will eats two, looking so much like a starving dog given snacks that it makes Jonathan sick. Plans are made to get Harrington back—desperate, stupid plans, but Jonathan barely listens, only interjecting to make sure Will stays with him.

Even as he gets in the car, Nancy once again in the passenger seat, Will in the back, all Jonathan wants is to find his Mom.

***

Barb watches Jonathan and Nancy riff off each other’s ideas, syncing up seamlessly even in this catastrophic situation. In contrast, Will and Eddie are crumbling into themselves without Harrington. They want him back with such ruthless vigor that it makes her curious.

She sits on the fringes of two fractions, not quite fitting into either, left floundering on the sidelines as the world crumbles around her.

Until she’d seen Nancy crawl through the fabric of reality, she hadn’t really believed any of it. Even with the photo, and the growling, none of it convincing enough to make her stop doubting the impossibility of the world she’d found herself in.

But then Nancy had disappeared into a different world and come back with two out of three of Hawkins current missing persons.

Steve Harrington sits like a ghost between them.

So, when Nancy volunteers to go with Jonathan to the army surplus without a glance in Barb’s way, she volunteers to take Eddie to go see his uncle after they pick up her car.

When they’re alone in her car, she asks, “you live in the trailer park, right?” not even waiting for his affirmation before heading that way. They’re not friends, but Hawkins isn’t that big—she knows where he lives.

Eddie’s quiet, staring out the window at the passing houses like he’s looking for something. Barb’s got a sinking suspicion it’s less of something, and more of someone.

“Why are you so focused on Steve Harrington?” She says it before she even knows she’s going to open her mouth. It’s just, he’s Eddie the freak Munson, and the last she’d heard, Harrington wouldn’t spit on people like him even if he was on fire.

“He’s not what you think,” Eddie murmurs, still looking out the window even as his hands clench in his lap.

He looks mad, like he’d like nothing more than to reach out and hit her with one of his fisted hands. But, beneath that there’s that same desperate edge, and it’s not violence he’s desperate for.

“Coming from you, that might actually mean something,” she says, trying to reconcile the look on Eddie’s face with the last glimpse she’d gotten of Harrington, laughing as Hagan had shaken his beer up and squirted it in her face.

The subject drops in favor of walking up the Munson’s short drive and stepping into his trailer. When Eddie walks in, she follows, hovering awkwardly as Eddie’s uncle scoops him up in a hug tight enough that it must hurt.

It’s only as introductions are made that she realizes that Eddie doesn’t even know her name. She reaches her hand out to shake Wayne’s hand, smiling tightly as she introduces herself. Wayne shifts his gaze between the pair of them, eyebrow raised as he asks Eddie, “you got something to tell me?”

The implication of that hits Barb as Wayne glances down at her stomach. She grimaces, shaking her head against the disgust at even the thought of having sex with Eddie Munson, much less carrying his spawn. It flies right over Eddie’s head entirely.

He breaks down. Again. She’s getting tired of hearing Eddie cry like the world’s ending. She steps past them, settling into their dinky dining room table as unobtrusively as possible as Eddie cries into his uncle’s arms, babbling about having gone to hell, about leaving Steve there.

“Steve Harrington?” Wayne asks incredulously. Barb’s never empathized with something more in her life.

“He saved my life,” Eddie says, and she watches in real time as the look on Wayne’s face turns determined.

He leans over and pulls a shotgun from behind the recliner he’s sitting in, laying it across his knees as he says, “let’s go save your guardian angel.”

It’s only as Eddie’s cheeks burst with the most vibrant blush she’s ever seen that Barb clues in on what must be happening here. Eddie is in love with Nancy’s boyfriend. God, this is going to blow up in all of their faces.

But she’s in it now, and she’s curious enough to want to see what all the fuss is about. There’s got to be more to Harrington than hair to put that look on Eddie’s face. Besides, she’s always been too nosy for her own good.

*** 

They’ve got all the weapons they could find at the army surplus in town, garnering strange looks from the cashier. But, he takes Jonathan’s money anyway, so they scoop it all up and take it back to his car.

“You know, last week I was shopping for a top I thought Steve might like,” she says, smiling nostalgically as she drops her load into the trunk, Will and Jonathan following her lead. “It took me and Barb all weekend.”

Barb had complained for the first few hours, but as the trip had drawn on, they’d fallen back into their usual dynamic, goofing off in dressing room stalls and picking out terrible outfits for each other. Now, Barb’s tongue has gone back to being barbed. Nancy wonders if things will ever be that simple again.

“It seemed like life or death, you know?” she asks wistfully. She doesn’t think she’ll ever wear the shirt again, not after it had been tainted, first by Steve’s actions, and then by his disappearance. “And now—”

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers?” Jonathan asks, that ironic tone to his voice that always makes her laugh.

“Yeah, and I don’t know if I even want him to like me like that anymore.”

It’d started with Tommy H’s cruel words, then rumors spread around the school the next day had felt like the final nail in their relationship’s coffin, but it’s more than that now. There’s Jonathan and the way, even when he’s hurling insults at her, she can’t seem to look away.

“We got into this fight that night he disappeared,” she continues, remembering the way his laughter had sounded almost mocking as Barb had wiped the beer from her face. “And I was so mad, but now I just hope he’s alive.”

She’s mad, still, but she wants to yell at him, to forgive him, to see him at all after all this time.

“He’s alive,” Will cuts in, and she jerks, having forgotten entirely that he was there, too caught up in memory.

She looks him in the eye and nods, firm and assured until the kid relaxes. Will’s always been a little anxious, but it’s understandably worse now, after whatever the hell he’d been through over in that terrible place. Still, she’s happy they got him back, would trade almost anything for the relief that’s going to flood Mike’s face when he sees Will again.

They just need to get Steve back first.

*** 

Wayne Munson doesn’t hesitate to take charge once he’s joined the fray. Jonathan stands in his own house and watches Will lead Mr. Munson to the kitchen and over to the phone, determined to get ahold of mom.

As Mr. Munson hangs up the phone, assured that both her and Chief Hopper will be arriving shortly, the tension on Jonathan’s shoulders finally eases. They’ve been fumbling in the dark for days now, and it’s a relief to have an adult doing something useful.

When his mom stumbles into the house after Chief Hopper, all Jonathan wants to do is collapse onto the couch and not move a muscle for an entire week. His brother’s back, everyone he cares about is in his line of sight, there’s nothing else he needs to do.

In contrast, Eddie and Will only seem to get more worked up as they spill the entirety of the sordid tale across the kitchen table. It hurts to hear, just like it had the first time. He doesn’t want to picture Will alone in that place with no one but Eddie and Harrington to protect him.

It rankles, and keeps on rankling as Eddie pulls Will into his side the same way Jonathan always has to comfort him.

“You mean blood draws this thing?” Hopper asks, only looking more fed up as Nancy, Barb, and Eddie shout entirely different answers at him.

“We’ve got a plan,” Nancy cuts in, self-assured, even in this. “To test the theory.”

They do have a plan, but it’s stupid and reckless from start to finish. Jonathan knows this, Eddie knows this, even Barb knows this. It’s only Nancy that’s affronted when it’s shot down from all sides. Her fists clench and her chin juts stubbornly forward.

Before she can argue further, mom yells, “this is not yours to fix!” with enough furious indignation that everyone shuts their mouths immediately. “It’s not you kids’ responsibility to save another kid.”

It embitters him, right down to his marrow. 

He’s a kid now, but why has it always been Jonathan’s responsibility to watch Will? Why is it Jonathan’s fault when he goes missing? He would do anything for Will, give up anything for Will, but he can’t help but feel that he shouldn’t have to. Why does she get to pick and choose when it’s convenient for him to step up and be an adult, and when he should sit back and let the adults fix his problems?

He bites his lip against the words that want to pour out. He bets Harrington has always got to be the kid, big house with parents to cover up all his messes. 

“Anyone called the boy’s parents?” Wayne asks, and Jonathan’s surprised by the derision everyone answers him with, like the Harrington’s caring that their son is missing is out of the question.

Jonathan’s gut churns as the implication of that response hits, Lonnie an invisible specter to this horrifying conversation. He looks down at his own knees and tries his best to disappear into the chair beneath him.

It’s only mom saying, “Will?” so worriedly that brings him back to himself in time to watch Will disappear down the hall toward his bedroom, Munson hot on his heels.

When his mom makes to follow, Jonathan grabs her mom, says, “Munson’s got him,” even though that rankles, too. Even in his own family, he’s been pushed to the side. Mom’s only got eyes for Will, and Will? All he seems to think about is Eddie and Harrington, like a couple days with them really has overwritten all their shared history.

While Nancy and Chief Hopper argue about next steps, Jonathan does what he does best: he sits and waits for someone to tell him what he’s supposed to do.

***

Nancy doesn’t understand how Barb and Jonathan can be so calm about this. They’d spent hours on this plan, and it was a good one, and now, what? They’re not allowed to do it because a few people that hold no authority over her have forbidden it?

She loathes it.

It gets even worse when Will comes out of his room, hands shaking and tells them that some “bad men” have her brother and his friends pinned down in the junk yard, her house being watched by unknown government entities. And the chief of police is trying to leave. Without her.

“He’s my brother,” Nancy hisses, standing with both her fists balled, rage boiling up her throat.

“I don’t care,” Chief Hopper declares, looking down at her like she’s a bug he’d accidentally squashed beneath his shoe. “You’re not coming.”

“You want me to just sit here?” she demands, hating how quiet her foot is when she stomps it down, hating the derisive snort the Chief sends her way—hating, hating, hating.

“You are staying here,” he asserts.

Neither Barb nor Jonathan make a move to back her up. Nancy stews in the feeling, unable to do anything else without a license or a car. She’s stuck.

Nancy joins Ms. Byers at the table and maps out their locations, knowing even as she does it that it won’t help at all. But she needs something to keep from yanking her hair out in little clumps the way Munson is.

“You’re not the only one worried, you know,” Nancy grits through her teeth when she can’t stand to see him pacing along her periphery anymore.

It works, but now his big, wet, accusatory eyes are pointed right at her as he asks, “excuse me?”

“Nancy,” Jonathan cuts in, going so far as to place a hand on her shoulder, like she’s a wild dog he’s keeping leashed. She shakes him off and takes a step forward.

“My parents’ house is being watched,” she says, the horror of it not touching her voice even as it permeates her. “Mike is out there, trapped and defenseless.”

“Yeah, but–”

“And I care about Steve, too,” she interrupts, her hold on the situation dissolving beneath her hands.

Munson doesn’t say anything else. He just stands there, chewing on his hair. She wants him to talk back, wants him to fight, so she can fight back before the silence lingers long enough for the knot in her throat to form in her tear ducts and trail down her cheeks.

Before either of them can make a scene, Mike rushes through the door, bypassing her entirely to barrel into Will, knocking him and Munson both down with the force of his hug. It doesn’t take long for the whole thing to end in a mess of kid’s limbs and jumbled conversations, catching the kids up with what’s been happening.

It’s only when Lucas asks to go home that anyone brings up Steve.

“We’re not leaving Steve,” Eddie cuts through their loud voices, glaring around the room like anyone had even suggested it.

“Steve? Nancy’s stupid boyfriend?” Mike demands.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

The words are out of her mouth before she even thinks them. She wants to stuff them back in her throat and swallow them down. It feels wrong to announce it to the room, Steve missing, gone, maybe dead when the last words Nancy would ever say to him were used to tell him how much he’d disappointed her.

She wants him in front of her so she can yell at him about all the rumors circling the school about Barb, tell him that his friend is rotten, and she’s upset that he’d taken Tommy H’s side over hers. She wants to be able to break up with him, if they were ever even dating at all. They’d never talked about it. Before this, there was always more time.

As the conversation moves on without her, Jonathan squeezes her shoulder. She leans back into him, and doesn’t think about how Steve would feel about it.

*** 

Barb doesn’t even know why she’s surprised when they all end up at the middle school to set up some sort of sensory deprivation chamber to help the girl with super powers get them to work. Barb’s not sure how a bandana and a kiddie pool are going to make a lick of difference in finding Harrington, but she’s not the one in charge of the plans here.

She’s pretty sure the whole thing is bullshit, but then the lights go dark, and she finds herself huddling against Nancy and Jonathan as they stare down at the floating girl. When she says Steve isn’t in the Munson’s trailer like Eddie had suggested, Nancy reaches down and squeezes Barb’s hand tight enough to cut off her circulation. She can see her other hand clutched in Jonathan’s, a trio on the fringes of this entire fucked up situation.

As the girl finds Harrington in his own damn house, as Eddie bullies his way into the search party, as Ms. Byers corrals the kids left waiting on the bench, she’s not sure why she’s even still here.

“We have to do something,” Nancy says, voice quiet but firm.

Barb sighs. She knows that tone of voice—no matter what anyone says, Nancy’s already decided on her course, and with most of the adults off on a suicide mission, there’s no one left to stop her. She also knows that no matter how fucking stupid it is, Barb will be going right along with her.

She’d done it at seven when Nancy wanted to sneak out and go to the library, done it last week when Nancy had wanted to go to that party, and she’ll do it again now.

Jonathan’s not as up to date on the way Nancy Wheeler operates, though, so he asks, “what?” in such a befuddled voice that she almost wants to laugh.

“Demogorogn’s are drawn to blood,” Nancy whispers, looking furtively over at where Ms. Byers is fussing over Will. “The hypothesis is sound, even if we didn’t get to test it.”

Barb sighs again. She wants to climb into bed and sleep for the rest of the year. This has been the longest week of her life so far, and Nancy’s determined to make it longer.

 “So, bear traps?” Barb asks, exhaustion hitting her even more as Nancy nods firmly.

Jonathan’s not looking at either of them. His eyes are fixed on his brother sitting on the bleachers with the rest of his friends, “But, Will is—”

“Fine!” Nancy hisses, loud enough that Lucas looks suspiciously their way, glaring over at them until Dustin sucks him back into whatever inane conversation they’re having. “Will is fine, but he’s going to be devastated if they can’t save Steve.”

Jonathan’s whole face drops, tinting almost green like he’s going to be sick at the thought. It’d almost be funny if it wasn’t destined to break that poor little kid’s heart.

“Munson’s the biggest freak in the school, and he seems pretty determined to get him back,” Barb says. She winces as both of their eyes turn straight to her, piercing her where she stands. “Shouldn’t that be enough for us to give him a chance?”

Barb grimaces, Jonathan making the same face right at her. She means it, really she does. She doesn’t know Munson, but he seems nice, and if he’s willing to risk his life to save Harrington, maybe there’s something there that she’s not seeing.

Jonathan sighs. “So, bear traps?”

He blushes when Nancy smiles with all her teeth, pointed directly up at him. God, she can’t even blame him. There was a time when she’d turn just as red at the force of Nancy’s smile. But they don’t have time for whatever weird courting ritual they have going on right now.

“Should we go before Ms. Byers stops fussing over Will long enough to notice us leaving?” Barb asks.

Nancy jumps, like she’d forgotten Barb was even there. Again. But they all file out of the gym quietly, entirely unnoticed. As she slides into the back of Jonathan’s car, all she feels is tired.

*** 

Tension knots up Jonathan’s shoulders as he watches the middle school disappear in his rear-view mirror. It feels wrong to leave Will after only just getting him back, even with mom there to keep an eye on him. But Nancy’s words are ringing through his ears—if Steve dies, Will will be devastated.

He doesn’t get it, can’t get Harrington’s smirking face out of his mind long enough to see anything else, but maybe that doesn’t matter. It’s not about him, it never is. This is about Will. And Jonathan would do worse things than save a guy he hates to keep Will happy.

“Where are we doing this?” Jonathan asks, rolling his shoulders as he drives, trying to unknot them as best he can. It doesn’t work.

“Harrington’s house, right?” Barb asks, leaning forward between him and Nancy. “That’s where the girl said he was in the Upside-Down.”

Without question, Jonathan turns and heads toward Loch Nora, happy it won’t be his own house they’re trashing.

It’s late enough that the streets are vacant as he drives through them, and all that’s in Harrington’s driveway is Steve’s own douchey car. He parks behind it, cutting his noisy engine as fast as possible to avoid getting the cops called.

“How are we getting in?” Jonathan asks, turning to look at Nancy, only to find she’s already out of the car waiting for him to unlock the trunk.

“The side door’s unlocked,” Barb replies, following Nancy out.

Electing not to ask how the hell they know that, Jonathan sighs and follows them. Now that it’s time, the supplies in the trunk seem inadequate. Still, he piles it all into his arms and follows the girls through an open gate and into the Harrington’s yard.

There’s a pool, in-ground and everything, surrounded by precisely trimmed bushes. It would be a perfect depiction of the upper crust’s suburbia if it wasn’t for the red cups scattered all around, abandoned and not cleaned up, even all these days after Harrington had gone missing.

He follows them through a side door, and the house proper looks just the same. Huge, colorless, and empty if not for those cups scattered around. It isn’t until he sees the abandoned house, almost a week after their son went missing, that Jonathan really lets the insidious thoughts creep in. Big house, no parents has always been something said about Steve, lauded as the perfect life for a perfect king.

Now, with the king absconded from the throne and his castle abandoned, it just seems lonely, and the castle isn’t much more than an empty shell of a place.

Nancy and Barb seem to share none of his compunctions. Barb goes through the house, turning on all the lights she finds until the whole thing’s lit up bright enough to show all its pristine corners, and Nancy kicks all the cups to the side to make enough room to set their main trap.

She pulls the Harrington’s auspicious rug back from in front of the couch and drops the bear trap down hard enough that Jonathan’s worried the floor will dent. Still, he follows her lead, pulling nails and a hammer from the box so he can nail the thing down, make it sturdy enough to hold the monster.

When he steps back, the set-up looks macabrely like whoever’s on the couch is supposed to watch the spectacle, view of the fuck-off huge television doomed to be obscured with whatever’s caught in the deadly points of their trap. Jonathan elects to never, ever sit on that couch.

Nancy puts bullets in his dad’s gun, Jonathan hammers nails into the bat, hoping for a weapon that has a chance of making a dent in a monster, while Barb pours gas all over the Harrington’s fancy hardwood floor.

The finishing touch is Will’s yellow yo-yo, commandeered without his permission, hung precisely over one of the Harrington’s dining room chairs placed just inside of what must be Mr. Harrington’s dusty office, a fucked-up warning system to let them know when the monster’s ensnared.

It’s a mess, and the more they prepare, the less he feels sure that any of this is going to work. But, there’s a steel behind Nancy’s eyes, so when she grabs three knives from the Harrington’s butcher block and asks, “ready?” he holds out his hand just like Barb does.

The steel feels heavy and cold in Jonathan’s hand. He clutches it, fingers shaking just a little as Barb says, “on three?”

“One,” Nancy replies, not giving them any more time to hesitate.

“Two,” Barb continues in the pause between words.

When they both turn to him, he looks between them, panic sinking into his stomach like lead. All this for Steve fucking Harrington. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Jonathan,” Nancy says on a disappointed sigh.

“I’m just saying, we don’t—”

“Three,” Barb cuts in, and Jonathan moves before he knows what’s happening.

The knife’s sharp enough that he doesn’t feel it at first, even as it parts his palm like butter. It’s only as blood starts pooling out of the cut into his cupped hand that the pain hits, sharp and clarifying.

“Shit,” Barb says, clutching her own hand to her chest, getting blood all over her shirt. 

Jonathan doesn’t look at either of them. He’s looking up at the lights, looking for any of the flickering that shows something from the other side is present. Nothing happens. The house is cold, and empty, nothing faceless creeping free of any nooks or crannies to kill them.

“Is that it?” Barb asks.

Did they trash the Harrington’s house—worse than it already was—for no reason at all?

“Maybe it takes a while?” Nancy replies, but she sounds the least sure Jonathan’s ever heard her, voice small and scared, not that the monster might come, but that it won’t.

Blood’s dripping down from his hand, splattering against the hardwood until he cups his other hand and catches it. Nancy moves abruptly enough that he jumps, their self-inflicted wounds giving her enough purpose to find her footing as she heads over to their supplies to fish out the bandages.

She wraps Jonathan’s first, moving quickly to Barb’s and then, finally her own, staunching the blood flow enough not to let it drip everywhere. It’s only as Nancy uses her teeth to rip the final piece of her bandage from the roll that the lights in the Harrington house start flashing, fast enough to be blinding.

Nancy picks up the gun, shuffling backward until she’s pressed against Barb, who’s snatched the bat from the carpet and is eyeing the house wildly. Left without his own weapon, he grabs Barb’s crow bar and settles into the circle, back to back to back.

Barb’s indrawn breath is the only warning he gets. He spins, eyes roving wildly until he catches sight of what’s caught her attention. He stands, transfixed, staring at the Harrington’s ceiling. There’s something wrong with it. It’s turned elastic and it’s pulsing as something presses on it from the other side, pushing and pushing as it descends until it gives way entirely.

What comes through isn’t what he pictured. It’s bigger, standing taller than any man, legs and arms bending at angles that should be impossible. They all stand, frozen, as it drops to the ground with barely a sound. No amount of prepping or planning could have prepared them for this.

They stay like that until the thing turns toward them, opens its face, and screeches loud enough to reverberate through his head and bounce around inside his skull. He hears the sound of Nancy shooting at it, close enough to make his ears ring, but the thing just screeches again and begins coming their way.

Jonathan grabs the closest wrist and runs, following the plan by rote, heading toward Harrington senior’s office. It’s only as he skids to a stop just past the threshold that he realizes it’s Barb he grabbed. She’s panting, staring wide eyed at him.

“Where’s Na—” he starts to ask, turning back toward the open door just in time to catch her in his arms, barely stopping her momentum without taking them both down.

Barb slams the door and they all three shuffle back, staring at the closed door, and Will’s yellow yo-yo stationary where it’s slung over the top of an office chair.

Nothing happens, The house is eerily still.

*** 

The longer the yo-yo doesn’t move, the tenser everyone gets. Steve’s house is eerily silent, and the lights are no longer flashing. Nancy holds her hand steady, gun pointed unerringly at the closed door, waiting for the heavy wood to splinter and let the monster through.

“Can you hear anything?” Barb whispers, voice quavering.

Nancy can’t blame her—she’s sure that if she opens up her mouth, bile will be the only thing that comes out.

“No,” Jonathan murmurs.

No one moves. The gun’s warmed up beneath Nancy’s hands with how tight she’s clutching it, how fast her blood is zinging through her veins. But, she’s the one who’d dragged them into this. She’s the one who’d insisted they distract the monster, help give the rescue party a better chance at success.

If anything happens to either of them, it’s on her. Besides, Steve’s her—friend. She wants to help him, so she takes the first step toward the closed door.

“Nancy,” Barb hisses.

She doesn’t answer her, just reaches out and opens the door, gun raised to shoot anything that so much as twitches on the other side. Nothing does. The air’s still, house silent and settled in its foundation. It feels like a herculean task to step over the threshold and back into the hall, but when she hears two sets of footsteps follow her out, her stride gains assurance.

The trap is still in the living room, intact but empty. The whole house seems empty, lights on and no longer flashing.

“Do you think it’s gone?” Jonathan asks, and as if his voice had summoned it, the lights begin to flash.

Nancy snaps her eyes closed on instinct, only opening them again when Barb and Jonathan’s backs press against hers, completing the circle. Moments later, the lights go out, leaving them in the relative darkness of the unlit Harrington house.

“Shit,” Barb says, and before Nancy can even turn, something heavy hits her back, knocking her down and sending her gun flying out of her hand just before she’s pinned to the floor.

Something screeches and Nancy rolls, terrified that the monster is atop her, but it’s just Barb. Nancy’s scrabbling for the gun, hands running over the floor, desperately trying to locate it in the dark.

Just as her hand closes around its reassuring metal handle, finger automatically resting against the trigger, Barb screeches and there’s the meaty thwack of a something hitting a living body. She scrambles to her feet, gun already raised.

Jonathan’s on the ground, crowbar raised in defense as Barb crashes the nail-studded bat into the thing’s back. It turns away from Jonathan, mouth open as it screeches in Barb’s face, that unholy sound reverberating through the house with such force that she’s surprised the walls don’t shake.

Nancy points and shoots, nicking the thing’s head just as Barb raises her bat again and yells right back in its face, bringing it down into its flesh again and again, nails embedding into the thing’s side. Afraid to clip Barb in any attempt to help, Nancy rushes forward to haul Jonathan to his feet, both of them stumbling to right themselves

Nancy’s brain’s not working, it’s shut off sometime between the monster dropping through the ceiling for the first time and Barb knocking her flat on her ass. So, when Jonathan clutches at her shoulder to steady himself, she just stares up into his eyes, brain ticking against itself as he stares right back, the sound of Barb’s assault gaining an echoing quality the farther away it gets.

They don’t snap out of it until Barb calls, “it’s in the trap!”

Jonathan drops his hand from her shoulder and turns, running toward Barb’s shout, Nancy hot on his heels.

Barb’s got black ooze splattered on her face, and her glasses are missing, but she looks remarkably calm and collected as Jonathan pulls the lighter out of his pocket and drops it to the Harrington’s gasoline-soaked floor. The flames lick up the hardwood remarkably fast, and Nancy’s caught watching the moment like it’s a movie and not real life, frozen and staring at the growing fire. 

The thing screeches as the flames caress its feet, almost dancing in the bright light like it’s trying to escape the heat even if it means losing the foot that’s caught in the trap. She watches, entranced as it writhes in the split second before the monsters entirely engulfed in flickering flames.

Nancy stands there, staring at the flickering fire, bathed in the relief of surviving the night, entire body shaking, when Jonathan Byers surges toward her, cups her face in his big hands, and kisses her like he wants to consume her.

***

For a second, it’s perfect. Nancy’s lips move against his, firm, and warm, and open just enough for the air to moisten between them. It’s the best moment of Jonathan’s life, his first kiss since Nicole in fifth grade who’d only done it for a dare. He wants to live in this moment, suffocate on Nancy’s breath and die happily.

But, then there’s a sharp, hissing sound, and they both jump back just in time for Barb to put out the remains of the fire with the extinguisher they’d brought for just this reason.

There’s nothing left on the Harrington’s fancy hardwood except a black scorch mark.

“Where is it?” Nancy asks, and when Jonathan looks her way, her lips are spit-slick and swollen, like their kiss really had lasted eons instead of the seconds that must have passed.

Jonathan jerks his head away, abruptly reminded of the real-life danger they’re in, eyes roving over ceilings and floors and walls, trying to find the Demogorgon, or any clue as to where it had gone. A tear in the Harrington’s gaudy wallpaper, a spot on the ceiling that’s distending bizarrely. But, there’s nothing.

“It has to be dead,” Jonathan says, looking back at the burnt patch of floor.

The Demogorgon had been entirely engulfed in flames, not visible past the flickering oranges and red that entombed it. Could anything survive that?

Barb snorts, dropping the empty fire extinguisher down with a clatter. “That thing’s from an entirely different world, why would you assume it’s dead just because it’s not here?”

She sounds exhausted—Jonathan doesn’t blame her for slinking around the burnt patch of floor to slump down on the Harrington’s hideous floral couch. She leans back into the cushions, head slumping back like it’s too heavy to carry. Nancy follows her lead, settling on the middle cushion, feet tucked beneath herself, her shoes no-doubt getting dirt and soot all over the cushions.

Despite promising not to, Jonathan sits beside her, facing forward as Nancy uses the hem of her shirt to wipe the black blood from Barb’s face. He keeps his feet planted on the floor, staring forward at the black TV screen, eyes dipping down to the burnt floor every few seconds. He’s right—it does feel macabre to see that trap there, even now that it’s signed and closed. What would it have been like to sit here and watch it burn?

He almost wishes he had—for Eddie, for Will, and hell, even for Steve fucking Harrington who might be dead right now. Whose girlfriend he’d just kissed. Whose girlfriend had kissed him back. God, this is fucked.

His shoulders hurt from wielding the crow bar with tensed muscles for so long, so he follows Barb’s lead and leans back, hoping to sink into the cushions and finally relax.

“This couch fucking sucks,” he says, and on the other side of the couch, Barb laughs.

“Fucking rich people,” she echoes, reaching her hand past Nancy to whack him on the shoulder in a way he’s pretty sure is supposed to be companionable, but just fucking hurts.

They stay like that, quiet and exhausted in each other’s presence. Jonathan doesn’t know what time it is when he closes his eyes, mind drifting in that place between sleep and awake, thoughts flitting in and out of his brain too gentle to be caught.

“We should clean up,” Nancy says, and Jonathan shakes himself back awake like a dog after a bath.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep—maybe they all had with the way Nancy’s slumped into him, head resting on his shoulder, feet curled up into Barb’s lap. Nancy gets up first, hair tickling Jonathan’s chin as she removes her body heat from his side.

On the other side of the couch, Barb groans, eyes blinking to half-mast, short hair mussed, and drool coming out of the side of her mouth. It’s cold on the couch without Nancy’s body heat. Jonathan’s tempted to lean into Barb instead and fall back to sleep for a few more blissful minutes, but then Nancy turns on the living room light and Jonathan shuts his eyes against the blinding light.

Nancy comes back, Barb’s glasses held out to her, and Barb levers her body upright, knee popping as it changes position. She takes her glasses and puts them on her face, still squinting as she dutifully begins following Nancy’s lead.

Jonathan’s own body feels weighed down with too many sleepless nights, but he levers himself up, entire body aching from his uncomfortable slumber as he joins the girls in cleaning up their mess.

There’s not much to be done, in the end. They pry up the nails securing the trap with the end of the hammer, cover the tarnished portion of floor back up with the rug, put the dining room chair back where it belongs, and make sure the knives they’d used are back in their respective slots in the block, sans blood stains. Once they’ve carted all their supplies out of the house and stuffed them into Jonathan’s trunk, the house is still a mess, but it’s like they were never there at all.

Jonathan slides into the driver’s seat, turns the key in the ignition, and stalls out, staring at the blinking 3:03 on his dash. God, they must have been asleep for hours. There’s no way his mom still has the kids at the school this late. Should he check the hospital for Harrington? His house for mom and Will? What’s he supposed to do here, now that all his goals have been accomplished?

“Where am I going?” he asks, finger poised to turn the key once one of them tells him what to do.

Barb stays silent in his back seat, but Nancy hums, that small little sound she makes when she’s thinking. “My house?” she asks. “Visiting hours at the hospital are over, so we should get some sleep and check there in the morning.”

Jonathan follows her direction, driving toward the Wheeler house in exhausted silence. He wants to check on Will, but his mom’s bound to have some angry words to shout at him over his disappearance, and he just can’t right now. Nancy’s house is dark, only the porch light on to guide them in once Jonathan’s parked on the street. They slip on silent feet through the house, and Jonathan’s reminded of how quiet they’d tried to be after they’d found the dying deer. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

When they finally reach it, Nancy’s room is nice—it’s organized, clean, and full of light pinks that suit her. Jonathan stares around at it with tired eyes and wonders how many times Steve Harrington has been in here, how many times he’s settled into her pink paisley sheets, Nancy beneath him.

Nancy’s sitting close to him, shoulders brushing as they wait for Barb to get back from the bathroom to turn out the light.

“Nancy,” Jonathan whispers, reaching out to take her hand. “With Harrington—”

“Not now,” she cuts in, squeezing his hand gently, the bandages on their palms brushing together. “Not until I talk to Steve, okay?”

Jonathan shudders when she says his name. Steve, Steve, Steve, as if Nancy hadn’t kissed him back. As if they even know if Harrington’s even around to talk to. But Barb’s words echo through his head. Eddie likes him, and so does Will. Shouldn’t that be enough for us to give him a chance?

“Okay,” Jonathan says, squeezing her hand right back. He’ll try his best to offer up that chance and hope against all that he is, that he doesn’t regret it.

When Barb gets back, she climbs into bed right alongside them, shuffling until her back’s to Nancy. Jonathan does the same just before Barb reaches over to turn off the lamp, ready to watch both of their backs for one more night.

*** 

“Where the hell were you?”

Nancy bolts up out of bed, disoriented. Mike’s standing in her doorway, backlit by the bright light in the hallway. He’s wearing yesterday’s clothes, arms crossed, and a ferocious snarl on his face as he glares down at her.

“Mike?” she asks, rubbing her eyes, trying to wake up. “What are you—”

“The bad men came, and you were all just gone,” he hisses, quiet enough not to disturb their parents, wherever they are. “El almost died.”

“Bad men?” Nancy prompts, brain still fuzzy with exhaustion. “El, what…?”

“They pointed guns at us,” he says, taking a step into her room to loom more effectively over her. “I’m fine, if you even care.”

“Mike—”

“But good to know you were all too busy sleeping together to care!” And with that, he storms out of the room, slamming the door hard enough that mom yells at him from somewhere downstairs.

She stares at the closed door for a minute, mind still clogged to work all that well.

“I need to go check on Will,” Jonathan says, and when Nancy whips her head toward him, he’s already up and out of the bed.

“Jonathan—” she tries, hand reaching out toward him, but he’s already too far away, grabbing his keys off her desk and shoving them in the pocket of his jeans.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” he says, pausing at the threshold of her bedroom door, soulful eyes staring back at her. “Maybe after you talk to Harrington?”

Nancy’s gut twists. “Okay,” she says, voice as small as she feels as Jonathan walks out the door.

She drops back onto the bed with a groan, beyond frazzled. Beside her, Barb still breathes deeply, always an absurdly deep sleeper. The shape of her warmth is a comfort, now that Jonathan’s stormed out, his side of the bed slowly growing cold.

She should talk to Steve.

Should she talk to Steve? From what Eddie and Will had said, he’d been through hell. Did he really need all of this on top of everything else? But, didn’t he deserve to know? Wouldn’t she want to know?

It seems like hours before Barb rolls over with a yawn, blinking confusedly over at Nancy where she’s staring up at the ceiling.

“Where’s Jonathan?” she asks, voice sleep-rough and low.

“Should I tell Steve?” Nancy asks, the question sitting on her tongue long enough that it escapes her mouth at the first chance of a willing audience.

“About Jonathan?” Barb asks, scratching her stomach beneath her t-shirt as she waits for Nancy to nod her affirmation. “Definitely. Kind of fucked up if you didn’t tell your boyfriend you kissed someone else.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she blurts out, and for the first time, she wonders who she’s trying to convince. “Besides, I thought you didn’t even like him.”

Barb shrugs her shoulders awkwardly against the mattress. “I don’t,” she confirms, heading out of Nancy’s room. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to know.”

Barb doesn’t close the door behind her as she heads down the hall to the bathroom.

After Barb goes home, Nancy stews on it. Barb says Steve deserves to know, but what if knowing does more harm than good? What if it sets back any progress he’s made? No matter what fight they’d had, it feels stupid now. She doesn’t want to hurt him, and this will.

Nancy collapses back down into her bed, stewing in the silence of her bedroom, the other side of the bed feeling cold without Jonathan to warm it up. 

***

He finds Will at the hospital, tucked into Eddie’s side as they both stare down at Harrington like he’ll disappear if they don’t keep their eyes on him. When Jonathan sees the state Harrington’s in, he’s not sure he can blame them.

His hair’s all shaved off, and he looks sunken down tucked under a thin hospital blanket, like he’s lost an impossible amount of weight in the few days he was gone. He’s got bandages wrapped around his shoulder, peeking out from beneath his hospital gown.

He looks washed out, tired, sick, nothing left of King Steve, just a boy who’s lost his crown.

He steps into the room, staring down at his prone form in the bed, something swirling through him, a mix of pity, and jealousy, and a nauseous sort of shame that’s only quelled when Will calls his name and jumps up, throwing his arms around Jonathan’s waist.

“You’re okay!” he cries, small arms wrapping Jonathan up tight and holding all his squirming guts inside.

Jonathan drops his hand on Will’s head and cards his fingers through his hair. “I’m fine,” Jonathan replies, voice choking as he remembers Mike’s words about bad men and guns. “Are you?”

Will nods, head rubbing against Jonathan’s ribs as he turns his head back toward Harrington lying lifeless on the bed. “I’m okay,” he whispers, “but Steve…”

He doesn’t have to finish the thought, he can see it in the sallow tint to Harrington’s skin. “What’s the prognosis?”

“They won’t tell us anything.” It’s Eddie who replies, barely glancing up from his vigil at Harrington’s side. “Johnny boy.”

“Eddie,” Jonathan replies, leading Will back over to his chair, pulling another over to his side so they’re all stacked against each other, staring at Harrington as he sleeps on, unaware.

He doesn’t wake up this time, or the next time he brings Will by, or the time after that. Eddie’s always at his side, looking more skeletal and drawn at each visit, like whatever umbilical cord is tying those two together is sucking all the life from Eddie to keep Harrington alive.

Jonathan just hopes Will won’t go down right along with him.

He doesn’t hear from Nancy or Barb, wonders if either had come to see Harrington at all, or if they’d both washed their hands of him now that he’s relatively safe. A small, quiet voice in the back of his head wonders if they’re doing the same thing with him.

It’s on their fourth visit that something changes: Harrington’s eyes are open, and as soon as they walk in, they’re trained on Will with that same unerring intensity that Will and Eddie have when they look at him.

“Will,” he says, and by the cracking of his voice, it must hurt, but he’s smiling. Smiling as Will clambers onto his bed, smiling as he burrows into his chest, smiling as he bursts into tears.

Jonathan follows him in, settles uncomfortably in that same hospital chair as Steve murmurs platitudes into Will’s hair, and Eddie rubs his back. He’s left to the side, watching his little brother break apart in front of him, two people who aren’t him or his mom piecing him back together with kind words and gentle hands.

It burns, like acid reflux boiling up his throat after movie nights with Will where they both eat too many off-brand chips, and chug sodas like they’re at one of Harrington’s house parties shotgunning a beer. He’s not a part of this moment, out on the front lawn watching a picture-perfect family moment through someone’s warmly-lit window.

Jonathan clears his throat, and Will shuffles back away from Harrington, rubbing his tacky eyes. While his eyes are covered, Harrington winces, hand coming up to cradle his side, like Will’s hug had hurt him, and he’d held on just as tightly anyway. By the time Will’s dropped his hand from his face, Harrington’s hidden any pain behind a smiling face.

“Thanks, man,” Jonathan says, speaking before he even knows what’s going to come out of his mouth. Steve’s eyes look startled, wider than they normally would with his shorn hair and gaunt face. Jonathan looks down at his lap, unable to meet his gaze as he continues. “For saving my little brother. I don’t know what I would’ve done if–”

There’s a sob building in his throat, at the thought of Will alone over there, Will dead in the coffin they’d buried. Will gone. He’s choking on it.

“Hey, man, your brother’s a badass,” Harrington says, like he’s trying to comfort Jonathan. “He would’ve been fine. You would’ve found him.”

“Yeah, Baby Byers definitely saved my life,” Eddie chimes in, going so far as to reach over and pat Jonathan’s back roughly, like he’s trying to burp a baby.

The sob in his throat dissolves as he looks between the two who’d saved Will when he couldn’t, who’d still wanted to see him once there wasn’t a monster to kill. They’re both smiling, and not at each other: at Jonathan.

“Well, still,” Jonathan says, voice cracking on all that saltwater he’d refused to shed. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve replies, clearing his throat uncomfortably even as he smiles up at Jonathan, small and shy, and so far from the usual King Steve that Jonathan remembers from across the cafeteria that for the first time, Jonathan wonders if he actually means it.

***

Nancy waffles for three days, the guilt over not even visiting him growing with each consecutive day. God, what must he think?

For the entire three days, she doesn’t hear from Jonathan at all.

It’s a relief when Barb agrees to go with her. Nancy feels almost sick with how clammy she feels as she slinks into Steve’s hospital room and catches sight of him for the first time. He’s sallow, thinner than she’s ever seen him, and his hair’s gone, shaved down until it’s just stubble.

Nancy’s throat clogs up as she looks at him, pale enough to blend in with the pillows he’s propped up against. In the chair closest to his bedside, Eddie sits, staring fixedly at her. She stares back, trying not to blink. It feels like he’s flaying her open. Does he know, somehow, what she’s done? Can she see the press of Jonathan’s lips against hers?

“Harrington,” Barb says, Steve’s answering response croaky enough that it must hurt to speak. “Glad you’re not dead.”

She can see Steve shuffling out of the corner of her eye, but Eddie’s still staring at her, and she won’t be the first to break.

But then Steve says, “I’m sorry about Tommy,” with such a contrite tone of voice, that she snaps her gaze toward him. He’s looking down at his own lap like he’s trying to hide his expression behind his hair, but it’s all gone now, and she can see everything. His mouth’s twisted up, eyes squinted closed, like a little boy being shamed for not doing his homework in front of the entire class. “That wasn’t cool.”

Nancy watches him, nauseous at the way he just says it, what little anger she’d been able to hold onto leaking out of her and leaving shame in its wake.

“You’re not responsible for Tommy Hagan,” Barb replies, caustic and biting. “I don’t give a fuck about him. I care that you’re friends with such a piece of shit.”

“Barb!” Nancy cries, trying to get her to shut up. Barb doesn’t even look away, eyes trained solely on Steve’s wide eyes.

“You don’t get a free pass because you tried to get eaten by a monster.”

Nancy gasps, but all Steve does is laugh, mouth twitching up at the corners like he thinks it’s funny, looking more alive than he had since they’d walked into his room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” Steve says, still smiling up at her, open, honest, happy to be called out on his shit. She doesn’t know the Steve Harrington that’s sitting in front of her.

Like that’s all it takes, Barb sits down beside Eddie, quizzing the pair about Steve’s injuries. Nancy watches, shocked as Eddie and Steve banter, jumping off each other’s sentences like that’s how it has always been. When Eddie had been so desperate to get Steve back, this hadn’t been what she’d expected.

There’s something there, she can almost see it.

It’s gone as soon as she steps further into the room, all candor in Eddie’s face dropping as she inches toward the trio, settling on the foot of Steve’s bed, carefully keeping distance between them, if only to stop Eddie from lunging toward her and slitting her throat.

“Steve?” Nancy asks, all conversation dropping away as Steve and Barb turn to look at her as well. She feels small under their eyes, twisted and wrong, as she says, “I’m sorry,” and really, really means it.

“For what?” Steve asks.

For Jonathan. “For leaving you at the party,” she says, catching Barb’s scathing glare. She swallows the knot in her throat and finally, finally says what she really means. “And for—you were gone, and Jonathan—”

She stops, can’t force the words past the lump in her throat. She stares at Steve, trying to beam the knowledge into his head, as he looks from her, to Eddie, to Barb in turn.

Barb, always both a thorn and salvation for Nancy, says it for her, looking Steve head on as she says, “Nancy and Jonathan have a thing going on.”

It feels like both more and less than it really is. They’d kissed, they’d slept side by side in her cramped bed. They’d saved each other’s lives, and spilled their own blood in Steve’s living room, and they haven’t talked in three days. Only three days, and she misses him, wants to kiss him again, see if she can recreate those handful of seconds where things seemed simple.

“Nancy, it’s fine,” Steve says, voice soothing even beyond the scratch of its disuse. “We kissed a few times, that’s all.”

Her gut sinks, and then balloons up and out of her entirely. Momentary hurt swept away on a tidal wave of relief.

“Really?” Nancy asks, eyes watering as she looks at him, ignoring Eddie’s scathing question from Steve’s side.

“Really,” he replies, like it’s easy. Like he means it. This is not the Steve Harrington that she knew. But maybe, that’s okay. Maybe that’s better.

So when Steve asks, “Friends?” all awkward and shy, she smiles and says, “friends” right back.

And when she climbs into the passenger side of Barb’s car after their visit she asks, “can you take me to Jonathan’s?” feeling hopeful for the first time all week.

*** 

Barb drops Nancy off at Jonathan’s house, and she can feel it coming—Nancy, Barb, and Jonathan becoming Nancy and Jonathan. She’d felt it coming curled up in Nancy’s too-small bed, pretending not to notice the other two curl into each other on the other side of the bed.

It’s been a waiting game ever since. Waiting while Nancy muddled through her feelings about Steve, waiting until Steve was allowed visitors, waiting for Nancy to break his heart so she can move on to Jonathan.

It hurts, that she’s right.

It’s not like they cut her out. She sits at their table at lunch, watching them hold hands beneath the table. They still talk to her in stints before getting wrapped back up in each other.

She can’t remember the last time her and Nancy had a sleepover.

It curdles, makes her bitter and mean, but she’s got nowhere else to go. It’s always just been her and Nancy. She hasn’t bothered to make any other friends. But, maybe she should.

When Steve comes back to school, part of Barb expects Nancy to approach him, make good on his request that they stay friends, but she doesn’t even seem to notice he’s back. Barb watches him as she stays at Nancy and Jonathan’s side.

He’s wearing Eddie’s clothes, bags dark beneath his eyes, hair still shorn startlingly close to the top of his head, and all the students part to let him through like whatever’s wrong with him is catching. And Eddie’s attached to his side like a barnacle Steve’s not even trying to shake loose.

She stands behind Nancy and Jonathan in the lunch line, waiting for them to pick out their lunches so they can sit down at their usual seats. They’re flirting over the school’s atrocious lasagna, so Barb lets her gaze wander over the rest of the cafeteria. She’s unsurprised to find Steve settled at the freaks and geeks table, Eddie tucked close to his side.

She leaves the line, heading straight for Steve and Eddie, unsurprised when neither Nancy or Jonathan notice she leaves.

“Barb would cry if she heard you say that,” Eddie’s saying as she walks up.

“I would cry if Steve said what?” Barb asks as she sits down at Steve’s side. She’s curious, nosey, warmed by them thinking about her when she’s not here.

“Steve here said you two aren’t friends,” Eddie, always the consonant shit-stirrer, replies.

That twinges, but she looks over at Steve, there’s no King Steve in sight. He looks awkward, worried, shy, as he picks at his lunch without actually eating it.

“You’ll do, I guess,” she replies, watching the pleased smile bloom across Steve’s face before she looks back at where Jonathan and Nancy are sitting at their usual table. Their bodies are pointed toward each other, closed parenthesis containing their inner circle, neither having seemed to notice she’s not in her usual seat across from them. “Besides, I’m going to need some new friends at this rate.”

Eddie nudges her sympathetically, but if anything, Steve seems more confused as he squints across the cafeteria at the pair, so she explains further, pulling the sandwich her mom had made that morning from her back pack and nibbling on it.

“All Nancy cares about right now is Jonathan.” As if to punctuate her point, Jonathan reaches out and tucks one of Nancy’s loose curls behind her ear, Nancy’s face blushing a rosy pink. Barb looks down at her sandwich, unwilling to watch it anymore. “At least with you, I knew it wouldn’t last. Now, when am I going to get my friend back?”

When she looks up from picking at her lunch, Steve’s staring at her, eyebrows still furrowed. “She’s right there,” he says, going so far as to point directly at the lovebirds. “Can’t you just go hang out with both of them?”

As if she hasn’t spent weeks doing just that, being left to the wayside while they stare soulfully into each other’s eyes. “They’re all…wrapped up in each other,” she explains, trying to keep her temper in check.

“Didn’t Hagan and Perkins go through a honeymoon phase?” Eddie asks. It’s not a phrase Barb’s heard used about high schoolers before, but it seems right. Phase implies it’ll end at some point, Barb just hopes it won’t take too long. Nancy’s smiling around the carrot stick in her mouth, and Jonathan actually looks fucking charmed by it. “What did you do when they used to go on their romantic dates?”

“Go with them?”

Barb snaps her gaze back to him, Nancy and Jonathan’s mating display all-but forgotten in favor of the conundrum wrapped inside a jock package in front of her.

“You’re shitting me,” one of Eddie’s loser friends cuts in.

“Wait, no. Let’s let this play out,” Eddie says, sounding gleeful. Barb glances at him across Steve and there’s a manic gleam in his eyes. “So, let’s set the stage. It’s Valentine’s day, 1982. Tommy Hagan has set up a candlelit dinner with Miss Perkins to celebrate their eternal love. Where are you in this scenario?”

“Have you been like, stalking me?” Steve asks, and it takes Barb a minute to realize the implication of that question.

Steve Harrington had gone on their fucking 1982 Valentine’s date.

“So, you, Steve Harrington, showed up at your best friend’s Valentine’s date last year and that was just fine?” Barb asks, voice devoid of all emotion.

“I didn’t just show up, I was invited” he says, glaring at her as he finally picks up his burger and begins eating it. “Usually, I help Carol do her make-up before. She’s not good at doing her own eyeshadow without looking like a hooker.”

He’s not looking at them anymore—he’s staring across the cafeteria at Perkins and Hagan with the same, forlorn look Barb knows has been peeking out of her own face for weeks now. Barb turns away from the rest of them to stare across at Nancy and Jonathan again. They’re even closer now, like whatever they’re saying is too private to be said above a whisper, even with all the vacant space at their table.

They still haven’t noticed the entirety of Eddie’s usual table staring at them, much less Barb herself, and maybe that’s the difference: Nancy and Jonathan haven’t invited her anywhere, have barely left a space at their side for her to settle into.

“I don’t think I can go on Nancy and Jonathan’s dates,” Barb finally says, something sad and churning within her as she crumples up her sandwich bag and sweeps it into the almost-full trash can at the end of their table.

“Oh, they’re both freaks,” one of Eddie’s other friends cuts in, the entire table dissolving into giggles.

Jonathan leans forward, planting a shy kiss at the corner of Nancy’s mouth that makes her smile, small and shy. Barb turns away, facing Steve and Eddie still arguing good-naturedly at her side.

Nancy and Jonathan may not have left room for her, but Steve had dutifully scooted closer to Eddie so she’d had room, both of them including her in the conversation like she’d always been there.

Maybe Barb was right all those weeks ago: Steve deserved a chance, and as he delicately ate his shitty cafeteria burger, she was happy to give him one.

As always, shoutout to my beta @queenie-ofthe-void who both made this flow better, and also pointed out that when I said it was done, it, in fact, very much was not! I hope the few of you who read this will enjoy it <3

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @alwaysurvalentine! alwaysurvalentine has 11 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@dame-zoom-a-lot recommends the following works by @alwaysurvalentine:

bad days were meant to be shared

three strikes and you're out!

aquariums and sweethearts

"If I had to put an image to their fics… I'd say a warm blanket and a piece of cake.

Their slices of life fics get cooked with so much care and thought. A lot of them are my go-to when I'm feeling kind of off or lonely. They approach conflict with so much empathy and realism. No one's just shitty out of the blue with zero reason, and characters talk things out in a way that feels like how real people would talk. There's rarely clear villains or clean-cut forever happy-ending type resolutions in real life, and their fics shine at showing the beauty of that." -- @dame-zoom-a-lot

Below the cut, @alwaysurvalentine answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Honestly, I just really vibe with both of them as characters. It’s easy to draw some of my own parallels with how Eddie sees the world and Steve’s fall from grace within my personal life - so it’s nice to play around with characters who I can understand. Plus I love taking the “protectors” from the narrative and forcing them to allow others to care for them.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I’m a sucker for any type of soulmate au, the ones with soulmarks are my guilty pleasures. Just something about knowing there’s someone out there destined to care about you makes me feel all warm and fuzzy

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Anything slice of life or found family - I just love getting to give characters all the love and care they deserve. Especially when canon has put them through the ringer!!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

With no cross to bear (these words just come out) by hitlikehammers https://archiveofourown.org/works/45052120/chapters/113340064 I come back to this fic again and again. Love their Eddie POV and all of the reactions from the party feel authentic and I just love a fic that really shows how much everyone cares about Steve (even if he doesn’t see it).

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve had a big idea about a possession type fic starring Eddie. It’s gonna be a big project though so it may be workshopped and shelved for another time while I work on some other stuff!

What is your writing process like?

Music is my biggest inspiration and I listen to Spotify all of the time (my spotify wrapped is about to be WILD), but usually I’ll get a spark of an idea from a song, scribble down a quick interaction I can see, and then once I get home it’s getting it all out on a doc. It usually takes me a few days to a week for me to get a fic where I want it, especially when the characters take things into their own hands for the narrative (I’m looking at Eddie and Robin here)

Do you have any writing quirks?

I actually write everything in red text until I decide I like the section. I have so many documents that have different colored text based on how I feel about it. Black means it’s ready to be proofread/don’t change, purple or blue for things I want to rewrite, and then red for what I’ve gotten down but isn’t edited/reviewed yet. Besides that I also go in thinking I’m going to keep it short and sweet and then I blink and we’re 2k in - but it’s been fun nonetheless!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

If I’m doing a prompt challenge usually it’s as soon as I’m done (totally not because I finish the day of…totally not that) but other than that I have a personal schedule to have certain things done by, otherwise I’ll nitpick forever.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Three Strikes and You’re Out! It was super fun to play around with connecting baseball terms to DnD in a way that still made sense and wasn’t just a block of info text.

How did you get the idea for aquariums and sweethearts?

It was actually a little followup I did for another fic, where Eddie visited the aquarium with Uncle Wayne but wasn’t able to get the souvenir he wanted. And I wanted Steve to kinda complete that circle, plus I wanted them to have a moment where they could kinda be kids again.

When writing aquariums and sweethearts, what was something you didn’t expect?

I honestly didn’t expect it to be so long, I was just going to write a tiny follow up but got carried away with my own aquarium memories and research so I just kept wanting to add more and more

What inspired three strikes and you're out!?

I feel like I’ve seen a lot of fics where Steve meets Eddie halfway with his interests and I wanted to see the opposite. Like it’s one thing for Eddie to concede that being a jock isn’t so bad, but it’s another for him to go out and learn about a sport/something that doesn’t interest him at all, ya know?

What was your favorite part to write from three strikes and you're out!?

Oooh! Such a hard question, for me it’s a tie between the conversation Eddie has with Lucas and his conversation with Uncle Wayne. I just liked putting Eddie in a situation where he was the one learning, instead of being the one in charge/control.

How do/did you feel writing bad days were meant to be shared?

It was a little hard starting out, I knew a couple things I wanted to happen but besides that I really went in kinda blind. Once I got into the groove though, it felt like it just wrote itself. Steve knew what he was feeling and just guided me along.

What was the most difficult part of writing bad days were meant to be shared?

So fun fact, I actually wrote the first draft completely from Eddie's point of view. I was trying to find his voice (still feel like I’m working on this but progress is progress) but it just wasn’t flowing right and Dame-Zoom-A-Lot actually helped beta for me. They’re the one who suggested the point of view switch and it worked so well!!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

A favorite scene I’ve written has to be in aquariums and sweethearts when Eddie and the Mime gang up on Steve to poke fun at him, it just felt like something Eddie would play along with and enjoy.  These couple of lines from Three Strikes and You’re Out! Make me really happy, like sent my friends a dorky screenshot because I liked them so much: “Eddie’s world narrows to the smell of Steve’s cologne, something that smells like rain on freshly cut grass and a hint of vanilla. Just as soon as Steve leaned in, he leans away, the sun painting orange and pink highlights in his hair when he tilts his head grinning.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m working on a Steve Harrington ‘character study’ from Hopper’s point of view currently and might be starting on an Anastasia AU starring Chrissy as Anya and Robin as Dimitri - super stoked for both of these!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Endless thanks to my nominator!! I just started posting for Steddie this August and it’s been unreal. So thankful for all of my new friends and can’t wait to share some more of my little ideas and chat with other people about their art and stories! <3

Thank you to our author, @alwaysurvalentine, and our nominator, @dame-zoom-a-lot ! See more of alwaysurvalentine's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

when you made a mistake of saying Rose isn’t straight on tiktok and now you have 250 people proving you she didn’t love Pearl:……..

you want to know something very ironic?

susan egan, the voice of rose quartz, brings up pearl + rose’s relationship every. chance. she can get. & she describes them as having a relationship! she brought them up in the recent livestream, she sang the rose with pearl’s va on youtube. so many people who work for steven universe have stated that the love between pearl and rose is mutual. voice actors and storyboard artists have portrayed the characters as being in a relationship. rebecca sugar even confirmed that they’re not unrequited. the people who made pearlrose, essentially, either ship them or at the very least see their dynamic as being one that involves mutual feelings that go beyond platonic.

“i don’t know if i would call it unrequited!” — rebecca sugar interrupting an interviewer who describes pearl + rose as unrequited

“if it’s not, then i’ve misunderstood the whole thing!” — storyboarder raven molisee, also responsible for rose’s scabbard, when asked if the relationship between pearl + rose is romantic.

“i LOVE these two so i was absolutely ecstatic to draw this scene. i remember being really pressed to pack all of their passion and pearl’s smugness into one moment that lasts the length of a guitar solo… and their fusion that’s just an embodiment of that into one giant, shamelessly beautiful dancer!” — katie mitroff about fusion in we need to talk

rose quartz is my comfort character & even that is an understatement. she’s so much like me and she’s so meaningful, and i wish that more of the fandom could see this.

the way that her character is perceived really reflects some of the issues that we see in real life as well.

she’s amazing for understanding mental illness & trauma and that responses to pain are not always pretty. things are complicated & so are people. some people in the steven universe fandom want to oversimplify things by often making her a heartless villain. on the other hand, i feel like some rose fans act like she’s done nothing wrong or they like to downplay her issues and mental health struggles. not necessarily here, but elsewhere. some people hate the idea that rose’s decision to give up her physical form was self destructive, but it absolutely was. she’s not a villain but she is a cautionary tale. she has a big heart but she’s absolutely flawed. she never wanted to hurt anyone, but she did.

she’s amazing for body positivity in ways that go beyond simple things like appearance, but people are… so weird about it sometimes. i still remember being twelve years old & reading comments about how rose was “pretending to be fat” the whole time after the pink diamond reveal. that was… really upsetting to read! six years later, i’m trying to help folks understand that this is not the case. there’s so much more depth and detail and comfort, really, than those silly reddit jokes and fandom hostility.

… and she’s amazing for sapphic representation. she’s canonically m-spec but the fandom can be so, so weird about that. as a bisexual girl myself, it bothers me so much that we need to convince so many people that she loved pearl while pretty much everyone validates her relationship with a man. not only validates… they see it as perfect and better and i don’t usually see people talk about the many flaws of that relationship. yes, pearl + rose’s relationship was flawed too. rose has a pattern of unstable relationships! but people can be codependent and genuinely in love at the same time. they can be in bad situations but they can still be… genuinely in love. & pearl and rose’s relationship is not less valid because people perceive their relationship as… more flawed than the other relationship (mainly because lots of people don’t think about the other relationship’s issues)

the biggest misconception of pearl and rose’s relationship is that their love wasn’t real

the biggest misconception of rose and greg’s relationship is that they got married

that’s very interesting to me.

if rose isn’t seen as a straight up villain, i find that lots of the fandom puts so much importance on two things: having a relationship with a man, and being a mother. & as a girl who relates to her, i think there’s so much more to her character and i’ll stop there because i have an entire thing i wrote about rose & the fandom here! /np/nf

i’m sorry about the fandom, anon. i’d go on tiktok and defend you but i don’t have a tiktok account because of my adhd (racing thoughts + a bunch of videos about different things at once = not my favourite app). you’re absolutely right and i wish more people understood that.