#chaser jonathan byers

[scoops-aboy86]

Everyone in the Party makes a cameo in this one, because it's the holidays and over the holidays you spend time with the found family that you defeated an unspeakable evil with. ❤️

🔞 Seven Christmases pt. 6

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The Byers-Hoppers (2569 words)

rated: T | cw: none | tags: chubby eddie, established relationship, weight gain, belly kink, stuffing, steve has a praise kink, fluff, they’re in love, robin/vickie, marijuana, chubby argyle, jargyle, argyle/jonathan/nancy, byler, button popping

When Eddie first came up with this Christmas plan, he’d thought it would feel good. All of his indulging ever since his near death and the recovery had suggested as much, and from the way Steve’s pupils had instantly blown wide at the initial suggestion… He’d been wrong, though. 

It feels fantastic. He’s so full, so fucking big that he’s aching with it, a dull throb that’s forged a direct connection between his tight, heavy belly and his dick. It’s an orgasm denied to him all fucking day, edging himself every time another meal comes to a close and he still has space for more. It’s a harness cinched tight around his middle and all down his legs, restraints that are leaving marks to trace over later in awe. Waiting for just the right thread or button to strain just enough that it finally gives, and it will fall away to reveal him in all his hedonistic glory, the luxury of excess spilling off his frame in every direction and stretch marks that he chose painted over the scars he didn’t. 

And he has to have more. He needs it. That’s his Christmas present to himself. 

Jonathan and Argyle are already loitering out front in the driveway when Steve pulls up, and Eddie rolls his window down with a chuckle. “You two wouldn’t happen to be lying in wait for us, would you?”

“Of course, bro,” Argyle says at the same time Jonathan shakes his head. “You dudes have the munchies express, what’s Christmas without that?”

Eddie fakes a swoon. “A man after my own heart. Look out, Stevie, you might have some competition for my affections here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve throws the car in park and rests a hand on the keys in the ignition. “Roll up your window, snookums.”

Snookums, Eddie mouths exaggeratedly, but he fondly does as he’s told so Steve can cut the engine. When he opens his door, he doesn’t miss Jonathan’s glance and little nod at Steve—appreciation, or solidarity or whatever, as he stands in the driveway with an open bag of red and green tortilla chips angled Argyle’s way. 

Not that the Californian has Eddie beat in any category besides hair length, but he too has gotten heftier since settling in Hawkins. Which is nice, because… Eddie had, maybe, for about five seconds, gotten a little worried when he first heard through the Party grapevine that Jonathan came out as bi. It was one more thing the elder Byers boy and Steve had in common, and what if they bonded too much over that? But then Eddie met Argyle, clocked the way Jonathan always seemed to hover in his orbit, and just as quickly relaxed. He doesn’t pretend to understand whatever arrangement that still keeps Nancy in the equation too, but Jonathan and Steve really do have a lot in common. 

They smoke up quickly before heading inside, Eddie already munching on a handful of chips that Argyle graciously shared in return for the complimentary weed. He can feel Steve watching him—feels the way he crowds against him too on their way inside the house. 

It’s a good thing they’re at the back of the slight bottleneck at the front door, because Steve is practically grinding against his ass. God, if there’s one thing he never gets tired of in this life it’ll be the way he can drive his man wild just by following the whims of his appetite, indulging in the impulse for more. He’s not even hungry again yet, but the crunch is nice as he settles into his high. 

Because the turkey is still in the oven after a late start defrosting and the kids are practically vibrating, Eddie is able to relax into some light snacking while they do presents. The bowl of white chocolate-covered chex mix and M&Ms only needs to be refilled twice, and Steve sits close enough with an arm around him that he can provide some amount of subtle belly rubs, low at the curve of it where his hand is hidden from view by the arm of the couch. There’s a seemingly unending supply of hot apple cider that keeps turning up in his cup, refilled seemingly whenever he isn’t paying attention, which is amazing, but—

Eddie turns his head to rest his chin on Steve’s shoulder and murmurs “I gotta move” in Steve’s ear.

Steve glances at him. “Yeah?”

He nods and then gives a little pout. “Yeah. Bathroom… for real, this time. Just need a little help getting up.”

The molten flash in Steven’s hazel eyes and the answering grope at his side is compensation enough for the fact that getting up is the only help Eddie is going to get. He ends up on his feet after a few rocks back and forth and Steve helping support his weight for a second, and then he’s wading through the ocean of torn wrapping paper and discarded bows. 

Aside from Steve (whose heavy gaze seems to follow him out of the room), no one pays him much attention. The younger boys are crowded around the new d&d books they’ve received, deeply intent on devouring every scrap of information contained in the pages as soon as possible. El sits with a smiling Hopper in the center of a slowly rotating hurricane of colorful cardboard shapes, holding one as they both scan intently over the fitted-together edge pieces of a massive jigsaw puzzle. Max in her wheelchair is holding Erica’s new skateboard and giving rapidfire tips, tilting and twisting the board in demonstration while the younger Sinclair listens with complete and utter focus. Joyce, Murray, and Argyle are in the kitchen, Nancy curled up against Jonathan on the loveseat while she chats avidly with Robin and Vickie about college life. The entire scene is cozy and domestic… and Eddie has never had a big family, but that’s what it feels like. 

Maybe it’s the weed, but his Christmas spirit and goodwill towards his fellow humans is at an all-time high right now. 

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind him, he runs both hands experimentally down his front to feel the full extent of how swollen he currently is—very, and then some. His sweater is stretched as tight as it will go without pulling up. His fingers circle the dip of his belly button and slide lower, until they encounter a sliver of bare skin where his undershirt finally started coming untucked while he was struggling on from the couch. And his pants… Eddie bites his lip as he feels how the button is straining to hold on, gasps softly as he realizes that the zipper has already undone itself at some point when he wasn’t paying attention. His stomach sits heavy in his hands wherever he touches, not so much as a jiggle while it’s still so tightly constrained. 

For a moment, he lets himself fantasize about popping that button at the dinner table midway through his sixth meal of the day. 

Not gonna happen though, not after all the cider here and the nog at the Buckleys. He’s willing to risk ripping his pants with an audience, but he draws the line at wetting them in a room full of people. So, with a sigh of dreams deferred, he paws his waistband to pull it down over the swell of his underbelly and love handles, because the button is pulled way too tight too—

Ping!

“Oh god,” he moans under his breath, unprepared for the sudden release of his gut from its prison. His belly surges out, practically bouncing, the tender underside still caught in the V of the stretched out fly, air cool on the now exposed, reddened skin… Oh, Steve will be so sad he missed this. Eddie leans back against the bathroom door and loses himself in exploring for a moment, grabbing, jiggling, pressing his fingers in as deep as he can even with how stuffed he is, until his bladder reminds him why he’s here. 

When he’s finished relieving himself, it’s a whole new ordeal to get the pants back on over his well-padded ass. Even then, he realizes with rapidly reddening cheeks, he’s exposed. His belly drops over the front of the pants, disguising the fact that they’re hopelessly open, unable to contain the sheer size that he’s glutted himself to—an observation that makes him rub his thick thighs together where he’s taking a breather on the closed toilet seat, hands smoothing over his belly again, back arching slightly to give the illusion of more that he still wants, a desire he’s more unsure by the day if he’ll ever see the end of. Fuck, maybe he could get off like this and no one would ever know, his own body would cover up the evidence even standing, and without the added constriction he can eat so much more—

A knock on the door shakes him out of those vivid thoughts, though he’s still hopelessly turned on and unlikely to cool off any time soon without either getting off or being full enough to pop actual stitches. Both preferred, of course. 

“Hey, dude?” Argyle says through the door. “Dinner’s on, and Steve said you were in here so I brought you something that just might come in handy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie replies, and knows that he wasn’t quite successful in keeping the breathy strain out of his voice. It gets him a knowing chuckle through the door. 

“Yeah, it’s an apron, my dude. Don’t want to waste any tasty food dropping it on that nice sweater, right?”

Eddie’s head drops back in amazed relief. “Argyle, have I told you lately that you’re a literal angel?”

“Never a bad thing to say it again. I’ll hang it on the door handle out here, ‘kay? For when you’re ready.”

Steve had some idea of what he was in for. How could he not, at the end of a day like this? But it’s a damn good thing he’s already seated at the table by the time Eddie returns from the bathroom, because just the sight of him is enough to send all the blood in his body straight to his dick. 

For starters, Eddie is wearing an apron. A green one, decorated with slices of cake and pie and festive candies, all examples of things already eaten and being digested and slowly turning into more fat beneath it. It’s not even tied—maybe because the ties couldn’t reach far enough, Steve’s horny brain supplies as he blinks dazedly at the sight, mouth dropped open—and sways a little with every heavy step the man takes. It’s not in-your-face obvious that it’s to hide his bare belly where the sweater has crept up and the undershirt has completely given up the ghost, but Steve can tell that’s the case. 

Robin, seated on his left, takes one look at Eddie and one look at Steve’s face, and snorts. “Cool it, loverboy,” she mutters out of one side of her mouth, which at least gets Steve’s to snap shut. 

The chair to his right creaks as Eddie settles into it, huffing as he makes a vague effort to scoot it closer to the table. Which Steve leaps up to help with, of course, boner or not, because he is a good boyfriend and because the sight of Eddie’s stomach all bloated and spreading out as seen from above is a fucking sight to behold. 

“Thanks sweetheart,” Eddie says with a wink as Steve sits shakily back down, and he makes a subtle show of readjusting his belly in his lap. With all the activity, Steve can tell from the side, the hem of his sweater has ridden up almost to his belly button. 

“H-hi,” Steve replies dumbly, unable to stop staring. He distantly hears Robin snort at him again, but he’ll save his scathing comeback for the next time he catches her and Vickie making out in his and Eddie’s place during a movie night. 

Eddie leans a little closer, the chair giving another creak of protest as he shifts. He holds out a hand, gesturing for Steve to do the same, and then presses a circle of warm metal into his palm. At first Steve thinks it’s one of his rings, passing it off for safekeeping until it can be resized again, but when he checks surreptitiously under the table his breath catches in his throat. 

It’s the button from Eddie’s pants. 

His brain flatlines for a moment while the last of the food is brought in—a big enough spread for two Christmas dinners, almost. 

“I don’t know how this happens every time,” Joyce is saying as she sets the serving dish of mashed potatoes on the table with a sigh. “Every time! No matter what I do, they always end up runny somehow…”

“Mom, it’s fine,” Will insists. He sets a bowl of… something down next to it. 

Eddie leans forward curiously, trying to decipher the hot pocket-sized things that look like they’re wrapped in some sort of paper. “What’s that, burritos or something?”

“Tamales, my dude. Shredded chicken wrapped in cornmeal dough, wrapped in corn husks, and steamed to perfection,” Argyle explains from behind Will. “Beep beep little Byers, enchilada comin’ in hot!” He’s carrying a large flat dish with oven mitts. It’s probably a miracle that he doesn’t get his hair in it (or anything else) while setting it down. “Both made by yours truly, just like my abuela taught me.”

“Except it’s a casserole,” Jonathan says with a chuckle, setting bowls of green beans and guacamole on the table. 

“Nooo man, I had a brainwave while I was in the kitchen earlier today! It’s all the same flavors and cheesiness, but half the work… because instead of individually rolled tortillas, it’s flat.”

“Yeah… like a casserole.”

“Whatever you call it,” Eddie interrupts with a grin, “it smells great. Grandma food is always the best.” 

Steve’s brain clicks back on enough to offer a fond wave of appreciation for the little wooden box in his kitchen that’s crammed full of his nonna’s recipes, painstakingly translated from the original Italian with Robin’s help. Some of the early translations had produced truly inedible results, but the finished versions had made substantial contributions to Eddie’s waistline. 

There’s a beat of quiet while everyone else finishes settling into their seats and Steve soaks in the wonder of being surrounded by the smells of good food and people who care, and then—

“Mike,” Will says, making direct eye contact with his mom’s runny mashed potatoes, “I think we should worry for our future kids.”

The delivery is so deadpan, so perfectly timed, and so unexpected that the entire patchwork family gathered at the table cracks up, even Joyce. Just full on, tears-in-their-eyes, can’t-believe-we’re-all-still-alive-and-now-this laughter at something that shouldn’t be funny, yet somehow is. Eddie clutches at a stitch in his side and he can barely get a breath in from shaking so hard (Steve couldn’t look away from him if he tried, god he loves him so much), but it’s worth it because against all the odds little Will Byers is sixteen now and he just gave up on defending his mom’s questionable cooking abilities in the most ridiculous way possible. It’s another two minutes before anyone even realizes that’s how Will and Mike are coming out as together, and the cacophony only intensifies from there.

Part 7, part 8

[idkwhatimdoing1981]

Thinking about Jonathan developing a feeding kink one day while watching Argyle eat and from that day onwards poping a boner whenever he sees his boyfriend eat.

Also thinking about Jonathan worshiping Argyle's body by telling him how cute and soft his tummy pudge is.

Maybe I should write some headcannons about this but idk.

Nurse lock me up

[sofiiel]

I can't stop thinking about Storm chaser AUs for almost everyone...

Storm chaser Billy, never forgave himself of his past. He lives alone is checked in on by his team. He got into storm chasing because he feels a kinship to the whirlwind.

Storm chaser Eddie does it for the inspiration. Witnessing the sobering forces of nature. It keeps him grounded amid the rising fame of Corroded Coffin and fans seem to go wild for his hobby.

Storm Chasers Robin, Steve and reporter Nancy do it for the real time breaking news and hopes of getting information out to the people who need it most.

Storm chaser Jonathan is in it for the breathtaking beauty, terror, and sorrow in the wake of the storm. Capturing the moments people will remember for a lifetime. He dreams of catching the elusive multi vortex, the dead man walking.

Storm chaser Argyle is teamed up with Jonathan of course. Reminding him not to get too close for the money shot. He's also helped navigate the vehicle away from some close calls. But he finds the storms interesting and knows facts about various cultures beliefs in them.

Storm chasers Chrissy and Eden are in it for the thrill. Kept in a box for most of their lives they find release in joining the storm. It's terrible and beautiful and that's something that they each identify with somehow.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

Btw me - ArgyleTShirtSupply!Anon

Didn’t exactly proof read - obviously I’m referring to band merch and metal tees but I completely do not remember if my wording made that clear - anyway - to clarify

Also consider - When Argyles visiting, he Jonathan and Eddie smoking up - argyle and Eddie glutting themselves and making improv and experimental pizzas in the Byers kitchen (the others are out, hopper on a date, dw about it)

Jonathan eats like a bird, Argyle has a big appetite but Eddie is beyond

Steve doesn’t join - it’s not his scene, Jonathan and Argyle are more Eddie’s than his friends, so he’ll just hang with Robin after work til the guys drop Eddie off

Cue Argyle driving Eddie back to Steve’s (don’t drive under the influence but like…the80s) Jonathan in tow, and argyle handing Eddie over to his waiting boyfriend, almost too familiar and more knowing than you want your ex-girlfriends-boyfriends-best friend to be saying stuff like “your lover is returned to you, blazed and sated my dude, have fun”

Argyles Argyle about it, Eddie thinks it’s hilarious, Steve is white-man grimace smiling politely and Jonathon wants to die

Those three get so fucking high and play the most chaotic and adolescent D&D of their lives. And they eat themselves (with the exception of Jonathan) absolutely stupid. And maybe high Eddie let's slip that Steve's been particularly tight of ass lately (newsflash it's because argyle's in town). So it's Argyle and Jonathan's idea to turn Eddie into a peace offering of their own creation and let that boy go hog wild. Stuffed beyond belief. There's basically no softness to his belly, and he almost looks otherwise visibly fatter than when he left earlier that night. Cue a happy Argyle like you said "Hark, my dude, I've got a delivery for Harrington. One pizza-stuffed lover boy, very well fed, extra blazed. Have fun and play safe, ok!" He leaves, so happy with himself and hair swinging behind him. Jonathan looks so scandalized you'd think he was shell shocked from the great war. Eddie's extra giggly, and practically bursting out of his clothes, and Steve is livid and thinking of how he's going to reassert boyfriend dominance, once Edd has had a chance to digest.

[alwaysthesitter]

Steve really be out here wanting threads with the parents of Stranger Things. Like, Karen Wheeler? Please, I want to know what she thinks of him, especially since she's such a freaking young man chaser. Does she think he's good enough for Nancy? Would she rather date him herself? WHO KNOWS. And then like....Joyce Byers? How does she feel about how Steve treated Jonathan, because I'm sure she probably knows. But now he's out here helping them fight the Upside Down and Vecna because a thirteen year old asked him to and he's changed into this huge softie and maybe she should adopt him as well because his parents never seem to be around. And okay, but like, Neil Hargrove? Steve would 100% lose in a fight because poor boy always does but I want to see Steve taking Neil on for Billy and punching him right in his fucking face. And oh my goshhhh Wayne Munson. I want to see what Uncle Wayne thinks of this boy that keeps hanging around his nephew and when Eddie finally tells Wayne that they're dating I want to see how Wayne would respond.

Give me more Steve interacting with parents, especially because his own are in the middle of fuck off nowhere and he deserves to have good parental figures.

[moonscts]

STUDENT FILE ACESS  . . .   ripley jinyoung ahn, 23. cis woman + she/her. december 9, 1999. half-blood. ravenclaw + third year. specialization: healing. quidditch chaser, aurelius tribune columnist.

INFORMATION   . . . 

     [] ripley’s what you could call a castle mouse. not in the literal sense, of course, but perhaps in the worst sense. she’s quiet, flighty -- count yourself lucky if you can catch her when she doesn’t want you looking. she’s the type of person that’s able to blend easily into the background, and she’s comfortable there. she’s not entirely invisible, no, just... unnoticeable. if you look hard enough, you could find her napping in a warm corner of one of the towers. 

    [] she’s maybe a year or two behind her peers who graduated with her at thiudriecks due to the fact she changed courses halfway through her second year. the incident that led up to it was, to an outsider, an accident that involved potions and a now scar that she still has on her left forearm, but it had really been building up long beforehand. she’d never wanted to take up auror training, it was just something her parents expected her to do. but after the break (and some emotionally taxing days with her parents), she’s much happier specializing in healing now. she believes it’s a noble thing, and she enjoys taking care of people. if anything, she can sate her culture-hungry brain with elective classes on magic history.

    [] genuinely, ripley is just trying to get by as best as she can. her sister laurie seems to be filling up the role of good upcoming auror daughter much better than she is, so she’s felt like she can finally be herself now. whether that be sleep in weird nooks of the castle, or observe the student body from her tiny corner she’s built for herself.

    []   character parallels:  ben hargreeves (umbrella academy), jonathan byers (stranger things), ariadne (inception), orym (critical role campaign 3)

    [] for more information click here  /  wanted connections

CONNECTIONS   . . . 

    [] though perhaps not the most social of creatures, ripley would have a number of friends, maybe even people she’d consider very close. these are the people who are free to share her quirky nooks and hidden corners, those who wake her up from her naps to drag her down to dinner. even if she’s not close to them, she’s generally a warm person, if avoidant. most of the time, the people she’d know outside of classes come from the activities she’s taken up that is: the quidditch team and the aurelius tribune. 

    [] ripley’s maybe had a fling or two in the past, but nothing ever that actually lasted or that made it past the dreaded “talking stage”. she’s by no means a cynic when it comes to love, but she’s less than hopeful about her prospects. if someone were to want her, they’d have to be able to see her first.

    [] conflict is perhaps one of the worst things you could ever put ripley up against. she dislikes confrontation, and would rather die than try to correct someone (perhaps it’s why many people know her as riley). she knows this may be weak, but she’d really just prefer to live peacefully rather than have to deal with vile personalities and emotional drainage. 

[alias-b]

Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 4: Heart Of Glass

A/N: Secrets out this chapter. Be warned this chapter deals with an attempted s*icide at the end. It’s not graphic or gory, but trigger warning. Cross posted to my ao3

  “Feeling any better?” Rosemary hurried over when Camille came into the kitchen in her pajamas. She, Edna, and Noah all stopped talking the second she appeared in the doorway. Not unsettling at all.

  “Yes.” Camille held herself when her mother kissed her head.

  “I’ll speak to a doctor and they’ll fix your dose. Do not worry about it, honey.” Noah came to his feet. “You should rest.”

  “I’m fine now.”

  “We need you healthy.” He was more matter-a-fact than a comfort. There was a knock and Edna moved out to see to the door. Camille held at least a hundred questions back before the housekeeper returned.

  “For you, Milly.”

  “Oh?” Camille saw Nancy there with Jonathan Byers behind her. A dozen more questions came up.

  “Can we talk?” Nancy uttered, obviously bothered. Jonathan shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Yes...” Camille pulled a hoodie over her nightclothes when the cold chilled her flesh and slipped on shoes to go out without telling her parents. “What is going on?”

  “Can I trust you?”

  “Nancy, you’re freaking me out.” She hesitated but got into the back seat while Jonathan took the wheel and her friend huffed, buckling up. “We lied to you.”

  “Shocker! Who could have predicted this?” Camille was hard as Jonathan drove them off.

  “I know, I know. But, I'm serious. Something happened last year. Something huge.” Nancy turned to see her friend. “You’re kind of apart of it. You deserve to know. But, I need your help, Camille. I need you. We’ll tell you everything.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “We need you to spy on your dad.” Nancy pressed then and Camille laughed out loud at her.

  “Okay, fun's gone! Jonathan, pull over. I’m done.”

  “We can’t until you know everything.” Jonathan turned down a forest path and went up the hill. They got to a view that overlooked Hawkins. Small lights dotted the little town. He parked and they both turned.

  “Nancy.”

  “Barb is dead.” Nancy teared up, arms crossing over the seat. Jonathan produced a photo, ripped apart and taped back together. Camille was shaking but she took it. Barb sat on a diving board. Alone. Behind her was a twisted sort of man. A creature with no face. “That was taken the night she disappeared. Steve’s party.”

  “I didn’t go.” Camille traced the outline of her lost friend. She didn't go because they were there.

  “That thing took her. It took my brother too.” Jonathan offered, frowning. “It tried to kill us. It’s...not from here. We can tell you everything but, please...keep an open mind.” Camille was slowly going mad, eyes lifted.

  “I’m listening.”

** ** **

  “I’m not hungry!” Billy called when there was a knock so he cranked up his music. Max cracked his door open. “Go away, shitbird.”

  “What happened at the high school today?”

  “Fuck if I know, leave me alone,” he kicked his backpack aside.

  “Why are you such an asshole?” She blurted, touching her lips as if to stop it when he grew livid.

  “Why did your fucking mother have to toss herself on my dad, huh?! Answer that, Max!” Billy growled. “Leave me alone.” She glared and shut the door. It was an hour before his father’s angry steps vibrated the floors. Billy wanted to hide. His door bashed open and Neil stalked in.

  “What?” Billy stood up, fists tight as if to brace himself.

  “Was that girl with you again?”

  "Which one? I see lots of girls." Billy played dumb and shrunk when Neil advanced. "She's nothing to me, dad. Went home sick today before they canceled classes. Power blew. We’re classmates, I have to see her. She tutors and shit.”

  “I don’t want my pussy of a son associating with little whores like her, you embarrass me enough. You know the type of person she is, you know to avoid them. Some people are just better separated and I don't like repeating myself. Bad enough I have to see you tart up like some queer before you go chase them.”

  “Well, dad, what am I: a queer or a pussy chaser?!” Billy shot back sarcastically, unable to stop it, and Neil grabbed him by his shirt with two iron fists. The teen slammed into the wall, head throbbing before he was slapped. Spots exploded in his eyes.

  “Neil,” Susan appeared like a tiny mouse in the doorway. Billy jerked around and Neil slammed him into the shelves this time. His son froze, eyes lifting as if he could escape the moment. “Please.”

  “Not until this little shit learns his place! You disrespect my house. You chase filthy little...sluts.” Neil growled and Billy grew petrified, eyes glazed over. “You stay away from that girl. There are certain people I will not have near my house and that girl is one of them. I teach you nothing? Say, yes.” Billy’s lip trembled. "What was that?"

  “Yes, sir.” He scratched. Neil yanked to push him away roughly and Billy stumbled, falling to the floor. Susan just watched, she appeared sorry. Terrified.

  “You both-”

  “Oh, fuck off, Susan.” Billy jabbed as if to egg his dad on when this became too damn much. Neil came to a skidding stop, whirling before one steel toed shoe knocked into Billy’s stomach.

  “Neil!” Susan called to stop him. Billy hacked for air, lungs gave an unpleasant spasm. Clear vomit hit the floor along with blood from his lip.

  “What do you say?” Neil tore a hand into dirty blond curls.

  “I’m...” Billy heaved too hard to get his breath back. It burned. Drool fell down his bloodied mouth. Eyes bloodshot and wet. “I’m sorry, Susan.”

  “Neil, stop. Please.” Another well placed smack stung and Neil was crossing to go out, pushing Susan along before the door slammed. Billy climbed into bed and pulled his legs up so he was a ball. Quiet sobs hitched. Max curled up in her room too. Staring at the wall she and Billy shared. She brought her legs to her chest and tucked her own head down to cry.

** ** **

  “Drive me home.” Camille shoved the picture back. “This is-”

  “It’s real. All of it.”

  “You’re talking about other dimensions and little magic girls. This is some sci-fi conspiracy shit, Nancy. This isn't you. Drive me home.” Camille pressed. “And you think my dad knows, what the fuck, Nance? My father is literally the epitome of mild mannered scientist. He fits every stereotype for god’s sake. It's annoying. He can’t even kill spiders in our house. He makes mom do it. He’s studied his whole life to-”

  “Just keep an open mind. Watch him. You know something's been off. You know it. They must hide things from you, Cam.” The old nickname made Camille softer. “They’re never home. Search and you’ll find something. Anything.”

  “This is crazy. And Mike’s group knows. Chief Hopper. Joyce Byers. Steve?! What am I-?”

  “Please, just try and if you don’t find anything you can shove it back in my face.” Nancy promised. “Jonathan and I are going into the lab. We’re taking them down. For Barb and Will and El and everyone else they hurt.”

  “And this Eleven girl?”

  “They stole her and used her as a test subject. There were others. She disappeared. Mike...they cared about her and he’s been broken up about it. That’s why he’s acting out. Promise me that you’ll be careful and just...keep an eye out.” Camille thought of the attic room. “What is it?”

  “There’s a...” She stopped, sighing. Sanity was long overrated. “Fine. I’ll play.”

  “Don’t tell anyone in your house. Not even Edna. It’s not safe.” Jonathan offered as they drove home. Camille observed all the dead farms on the way. This town was losing it.

  “I got it.” Camille rubbed her eyes. “This is heavy. I’ll...keep an open mind.” Something more was off. Something inside her. That feeling fed too much. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Camille...thank you.” Nancy reached to touch her hand. Camille could only nod.

  “Where did you go?” Noah appeared the moment she came inside.

  “They might cancel school tomorrow. Have to redo wiring and clean up half of it after the power went haywire. Nancy and Jonathan are...having some relationship problems. Teenage stuff. You know? Glad that I'm single.”

  "As am I, honey," he'd joked, touching her shoulders. “Take it easy tomorrow. We’ll all be out. You call if you get worse again. Promise me.”

  “Promise.”

  “There’s my girl. I love you.”

  “I love you, daddy.” She came to hug him, eyes on the family photo behind him. Camille suppressed tears. Held him tighter.

  “Take these before you go to bed. Different dose. I’ll bring you a new bottle later on with instructions.”

  “Thank you.” Camille climbed the stairs, numb. She locked her door and went into the bathroom, seating herself on the tub. Slowly, she uncurled her fist to see the little blue capsules. Cheeks sucked in. A frown etched her face with anger. Splashes sounded when they dropped into the toilet. Camille flushed them down and got up to see herself in the mirror. Hands gripped the sink. Free. She huffed out and lifted her eyes. Red rimmed and tired. “Fuck.” Another bright idea popped into her brain. A horrible, bright idea. She found her voice at last and made the decision. “Hope you’re up for this.”

** ** **

  “Hello?” Max picked up the phone when it rang early that next morning.

  “Max? Hi, um, is Billy there? It’s Camille.”

  “Yeah, he’s here.” There was shuffling and a huff.

  “Harpy?” Billy was flat.

  “Hi, ah, um-” Camille twisted the phone cord in hand.

  "Waiting."

  “So...they canceled the rest of this week. Guess the building is a little totaled. Catch up will be hell but, ah, I wanted to know if you could come over.”

  “I have a date later."

  "Cancel it." She shrugged. "You'll have other dates. You're the Keg King. Come over here instead."

  "Why?”

  “Um, oh, just the...the paper. Get a head start, Strode will want it first thing Monday. She’ll be looking for immaculate work since we got time off. You want the grade, help earn it.” Camille lied and it was silent so she played his game. Voice changing. "My house is empty." Billy inhaled through his nose.

  “Fine.”

  “Right, I’ll-” the line went dead, “-see you.” It was ten minutes before Billy tore into her driveway. She opened the door and saw his face, gasping.

  “Pretty, huh?” He snuffed out a smoke and came in. No use making up a fake fight story. She knew him. That already grated. A nasty red welt marred his cheek and his bottom lip was cut, swollen still.

  “He-”

  “So, the damn paper. Huh.”

  “I lied.” Camille shut the door and picked up a long essay stapled together. “I got up and did the paper. It’s good, we’ll get an A.”

  “I read the book for you...for nothing.” He quirked one brow. "And I cancelled a date."

  “Yes...um, shoes. I need a favor.” She pointed and Billy rolled his eyes. Boots slipped off and his coat plopped to the couch. He tossed his arms out and let them drop.

  "Queen needs a favor."

  "Great thing about favors is paying them back." Camille didn't hesitate and his eyes snapped to her own.

  “Well, you got me here and now you have my full attention.” Billy fell against a chair, arms up over the back. His legs spread and he observed her. She ignored the idea he obviously had. “What favor?” He noticed her fidget. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m not sure anymore.” Camille stepped toward him, summoned the courage. "I just...I need... Ugh, this is crazy. It's crazy and you're going to think I'm crazy."

  "Too late but, I'm in the boat with you. So, talk."

  "It's a small thing."

  "What," Billy eyed her, "do you need from me?"

  “I need you to help me pick the lock on the attic.” Billy’s chest heaved when he laughed, pain vibrated up his side so he held his ribs.

  “Fuck, Harper, I thought you had something difficult. Fine, I'll bite now. Better be good.” He swayed on his feet to follow her upstairs.

  “Housekeeper won’t be in until Thursday and my parents are occupied until...I never know anymore. We have plenty of time.” Camille led him to the door.

  “Why break daddy’s rules today?” Billy dropped to one knee and dug for his keys, pulling two silver tools from it.

  “Because I don’t know who to trust anymore,” she confessed and he stopped to see her eyes again. They cast and burned.

  "So, you trust me."

  "Shocking. ...I guess I don't find you to be a very good liar." Camille admitted. Somehow that was comforting. He seemed to accept such an answer. “Do it. Show me how.”

  “Not much to it, watch.” Billy jimmied the lock and Camille was intent. She sniffled on what may have been a thin trail of blood. “And...shit...okay, your dad knows what he’s doing. But...I got it.” The door popped open and she gazed up the stairs. “Princess, first.”

  “I feel like if I go up the stairs, everything is going to change and I...” Tears welled. Didn’t fall. “I can’t come back.”

  “Already awake, remember? Now move your pretty ass before you kill the rest of my social life.” He’d gestured.

  "You don't have to stay."

  "And miss out on daddy's top secret project? Fuck, no. I cancelled a date. You're stuck with me." Billy was intrigued now. Camille looked at his hand so he offered it. Fingers clasped and she followed the steps up with Billy behind her. Her breath puffed when they reached the top. It was...nothing. A metal desk and lamp. Books. Loads of file cabinets. Small TV and VCR. “So, your dad is boring. Got it. Hope this was worth it.” He watched her step forward, releasing him. Light came into the room from an oculus above them.

  “Thought it would be a suitcase full of cash or a long lost sister.” Camille remarked. "Guess I get to rub it in Nancy's face. To think that I really believed for a moment."

  "Believed what?"

  "It's stupid. Just a bunch of lab shit. I was just paranoid, I mean this is..." She yanked and a file cabinet didn’t budge.

  "Your dad doesn't ever let you in." Billy observed. "Locks the door with fancy shit. And he locks the cabinets. The hell?"

  “Sounds like a person with something to hide... Let me try.” Camille sighed at herself. Billy handed his lockpick over.

  “So, you just-”

  “Got it,” she popped the drawer open and gave them back like it was nothing. “Quick learner.”

  “Right...” He watched her sift through files. All marked with dates and three little numbers. 006.

  “What the hell is all this?” Camille opened them up along the metal desk. A picture fell out and Billy picked it up, recalling the photos along the house.

  “The fuck...” He gave a funny look then turned it. “Is that you?” A skinny child. Shaved head. Hospital gown. Distinct beauty mark. Standing awkward and squinting at the camera. Her arm was raised to block the flash. Three numbers etched her skin. 006. Camille looked down at her own arm. The tiny burn that must have melted those numbers away. The scar twitched.

  “This is me. All of it.” She heaved, snapping files open to absorb information. “My childhood...was complicated. Spotty. They kept me inside. I was a sickly kid. So I thought...” She read blurbs as she went and Billy was frozen. “Meds. Electroshock. Fuck. My whole life...he told me how important I was. But, to who?” Camille read onward, world crumbling. She recognized her own damn father’s handwriting in some of these.

  “...Six shows no special signs. Nothing… Termination possible….”

    “Six rouses no reaction yet when prodded into emotional state. Further tests on file….”

  “Today, we hit a breakthrough… Must develop reading skills. Six learned English and writing in four days. Has the advanced vocabulary and grammar of an adult at four years old. Made to read...what the hell...surpassed every reading, writing, and recollection test. Photographic memory proven. Muscle memory pending. Must investigate further.” Camille was ripping through files and Billy shook his head.

  “Harpy...”

  “Quiet,” she hissed. “Six, deemed the most average, will participate in the assimilation and repression study. Dosage adjusts. Repression is possible.”

  “Camille.”

  “No!” She whipped around this time, fingers shaking. He met her eyes and froze. “...Dr. Harper and his wife have agreed to...to…” Camille felt herself sink. “Edna Mathias will serve on staff. Six will do what none of them are ready for. Subject will be introduced to the outside. Must be wiped clean first. Abilities controlled…  Stimulation is key. Subject will return at the right time for further testing. Possible age eighteen. Can these subjects function in the outer world? ...Controlled…suppressed… Can they be forced to adapt? ...Spies… Oh, god. Oh, my fucking god.” Camille was teetering, ripping up tapes to shove one into the TV.

  “What...is this?” Billy watched her fall to her knees before the screen. A little girl at the table. Rocking. A huge book in front of her.

  “Six, solve the equation.” She watched a too small child do perfect calculus. Camille went for more tapes. A younger Noah Harper bonding with her. Running tests while she cried and cried. An older man named Brenner joined them. These men trained her. Groomed her. She saw herself speak foreign languages. Copy intricate dance moves. She was a dancing money. Mimicking everything. A twittering mockingbird. Billy lurched forward and turned it off.

  “Hey!” She pushed at him so he ripped her up.

  “Camille, what the fuck is this?!” Her head tipped forward to his chest when she broke. A scream wailed and Billy watched the glass window vibrate. A single crack drew down it. Camille sniffled blood again and swallowed.

  “They lied. They lied...” She was sobbing at full blast. “Don’t you get it...? This is me, all of it is me. Everything. My life. It's the experiment! I'm the experiment!” Camille pushed from him. “Fake adoption papers… A test subject. My life...it’s all a fucking lie! They crafted it like paper dolls. Fashioned it to fit their ideals so I'd...” Her lungs ached. “They stole me...and gave me to...” Camille ripped for more information. Until she saw two names. “Adam King...Status: Deceased. Judith King...Status: Unstable. Current location...Dayton, Ohio.”

  “Camille, you got to explain this shit to me.” Billy’s hands were on her again. “You’re tell me that your rich lab rat father...stole a fucking kid and... You're right, this is crazy.”

  “Hawkins Lab. They took me. They did. Six… I think they took others.” Eleven.

  “This fucking town,” Billy rubbed his eyes.

  “I can’t tell you...everything. Things happened last year and we...were all were lied to. Something awful happened in that lab and it’s rotting Hawkins.” Camille was in a hurry to put everything back. Perfect like it was never touched. She slammed the file cabinet and Billy grasped her hands to slow her.

  “This...is unreal. And you think...you have some kind of ability. This isn’t a fucking movie."

  “One way to find out.” Her face cracked with a smile that jarred him. He knew the game wasn't over. "Another favor?"

  “Fuck.”

** ** **

  “Max!” Billy was calling while Camille waited by his car. “Come outside. Bring your skateboard.”

  “Billy, not now!”

  “Max, I swear to god!” He bellowed again and she growled to herself, tearing outside.

  “What?!” Her anger faded when she saw Camille’s eyes. “Do you know? They said you did now.”

  “How do you know? How much did they-”

  “You know who. And not enough. They're-”

  “You’re hanging out with them again?” Billy was tense.

  "Not like they want me around either!"

  “Hey, both of you need to chill because I'm already mid-breakdown. Max, I need a weird favor. Show me a skateboard trick.” Camille touched Billy’s chest.

  “Uh, why?”

  “Curiosity.”

  “Why am I the only one outside this loop?” Billy got between them and Max grabbed her board.

  “Just...relax.” Camille sniffled. “It’s not safe. Just go with it.”

  “Fucking damn it, Camille.” He’d mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His fault for pursuing a fox.

  “Do a trick. Your choice.”

  “Okay...” Max wheeled herself down the street and back up, she ollied then landed with ease.

  “Now, let me try.” Camille came forward, that same intent expression on her face.

  “Um, why?”

  “Because I’m going insane and I want an audience for it.” The older teen took the board and set it down. Testing, she put one foot on it and pumped herself forward. Billy and Max watched in awe as she repeated the same move and kicked the board up to catch it.

  “Shit, Harper...”

  “I thought you didn’t skateboard.” Max gestured.

  “...I don’t.” Camille breathed heavily, eyes landing on Billy to confirm her fears. “Max, thank you this has been helpful. Billy, we gotta go.”

  “Where?” He whined this time, exhausted with questions.

  “Now! Max, if you see Mike and them...tell them to find Nancy and Jonathan. Tell them I said they were right. Billy, get in, what are you still standing there for? Favor isn't over, beach boy.” She ushered him off. Max watched the Harper girl practically kidnap her brother. They sped away and Camille was quick.

  “Dayton, Ohio. I need you to take me there. To the address on file. Few hours tops at your speed.” Camille yanked a map from his dash.

  “Fuck that. I’m taking you home and I’m waking up from whatever trip this is. And I'm going to go get laid.” No more queen bees for him.

  "Your lay can wait. You saw it. You already know too much. I'm not letting you go."

  "What the fuck does that mean?" He sped still.

  “Billy, I can’t explain everything. Just know that this might be my only chance for answers and I need you. Okay? I fucking need your help. Hard to say, but...yes, I trust you and not many others right now. There. God, I'm sick. That lab sat there...and those children. And Barb. Fuck, I’m...an idiot.”

  “You’re telling me there’s a whole big, magical fucking conspiracy in manure land?”

  “Something in that direction. Might be exciting for you. I'll owe you a million favors. I...I want to meet this Judith woman, she knows something.” Camille begged. “My life...never added up. You know what I would give to put the pieces together for the first time? To know the full truth. My parents...lied to me. My life. It’s all fake. It was doctored and written out before I could...live it. I have to go. I’ll drive myself if you don’t take me. I'll fucking hitchhike. Frankly, I don’t want to do this alone. You saw that room. Billy, I need you.” Couldn't let him out of sight now that he knew.

  “Harper,” Billy stopped at a light and rubbed his head. He looked into her eyes. Pleading. It broke him. “God fucking damn it.” He made a U turn and sped the other direction, grumbling. "Only going because I don't even want to get laid anymore."

  “Thank you, Billy.” She offered.

  “Long drive ahead. Start talking.”

  “I...I can’t tell you all about last year. But, my friends went through an ordeal and I fucking missed it.” Camille held herself. “Nancy found out something about Barb going missing last year. Something to do with Hawkins Lab. She asked me to spy on my dad. He keeps everything about his work private. That lab did something horrible and it has to stop.”

  “You think there are five more little shits with...with...powers walking about?”

  “I don’t know, I just know they stole kids and tortured them for sick experiments. I know the parents of those kids never made it out either.”

  “The lights.” Billy recalled. “Let me wrap my head around this and I will collect on those favors.”

  “Ditto and I expect nothing less.” She agreed. “Stop at a payphone, I need to lie to my lying god damn father. Can I have a cigarette?” Billy peered at her, lips lifting.

  “Help yourself.”

** ** **

  “This can’t be it.” Billy looked up at the building.

  “It’s the right address.” The grey sky threatened to darken above. Camille read the sign. “This is basically an old folks home...a fancy ass psych ward.”

  “How are we supposed to get in?”

  “Follow my lead,” Camille marched inside the sliding doors. Not a plan in sight. A receptionist looked up at them. “I’m looking for a Judith King. I’m her niece. This is my...brother.” She smiled bright and the lady didn’t look impressed, clicking into the computer. Billy tried not to make a face at that.

  “Name?”

  “Uh, Carrie.” She’d lied.

  “Not on the list. No visit.”

  “Miss, we drove all this way...we go to college and can’t ever come see her but took the day to make up for that.”

  “Shame. Sorry, kid, you’re not on the list.” She continued. Billy loosened his coat and eyed Camille when she turned to go around the corner.

  “Wait, uh, Carrie, that was pathetic.” Billy muttered as they went back down the hall.

  "You think I don't know that? I'm frazzled. What do you suggest?"

  “Follow my lead.” He swaggered forward and leaned down back at the desk, arms crossing. “Hi there.” That Billy Hargrove charm oozed out with a devilish smile. The young woman stilled to meet his eyes. “Look, ah, Miss…?”

  “Maria.”

  “Maria.” Billy drawled, licking his lips. “I know you’re just following the rules.” He pulled a cherry candy from the nearby dish and set it between his teeth. Camille crossed her arms to flush. “But, I’d greatly appreciate it if you could make an exception. Just once.” Deft fingers tucked hair behind her ear. “Come on...” He uttered in that velvet tone. “Do it for me. I admit...I’m ashamed. I haven’t seen my dear Aunt. I have to make it up to her and I need your help, Maria. Just a few moments and we’ll be out of your pretty hair. Scout’s honor to behave. Cross my heart.” Fingers drew an X over his chest, the shirt button opened. “Hope to live.”

  "I don't know."

  "Maria..." That sing-song tone hooked her. Billy was intent, swaying and lax. "It'll be our little secret."

  “Well, okay, just this once,” she whispered.

  “Maria. You are a gem...I won't soon forget it.” Billy winked and she giggled. Camille tried not to roll her eyes. Billy took two visitor passes and pressed them to his lips. “Appreciate it, dollface.” His eyebrows lifted. Smug when he peered again at Camille so she followed him.

  “Take the elevator to four. An orderly will show you to her.” Maria called and Billy winked at Camille this time. Her lips twitched, eyes averting because she loathed him.

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t push it.” She could have kissed this stupid boy right there.

  “Push it? You kidnapped me into some...weird manure land conspiracy.”

  “That I did.” They went up. The orderly gestured and Camille felt her hands shake.

  “Judy...there are two kids here to see you.” He showed them into a small room. A woman rocked and watched the television. Ballet played before her. She had the same dark hair save for early flashes of silver. The same green, hazel eyes. Face shape down to that damn beauty mark. Billy felt his stomach dip. The woman didn’t look up, transfixed on the TV before her.

  “Judith?” Camille tried.

  “She hasn’t spoken since she arrived,” the man replied. "About seventeen years ago."

  “Sir, we...um...we weren’t there for, you know, the incident. We were so young. Can you tell me what exactly happened? Our parents don’t like to talk about it.” Camille managed.

  “Ah, well, Judith suffered some sort of head trauma. She and her husband were in a terrible car accident, I think. Adam, the husband, he died on impact. And so did their unborn baby at the hospital. Awful thing. She was almost to the full nine months.”

  “Unborn baby.” Camille pressed her lips together. Billy stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  “Yes. She came to us catatonic. The generosity of an old friend paid her way. Nice couple.”

  “A nice...couple.”

  “Judy, here, she doesn’t do much. She sure likes to watch the ballet. Classical stuff calms her down. She liked to crochet dolls. Little ballerinas. Church choir kids who visit sure love them. She’s probably trying to communicate in some way. You know, with her lost daughter.”

  “Daughter?” Billy lifted his eyes from Camille’s stiffening back.

  “Yes, they were having a little girl.” He smiled. “Judith doesn’t get many visitors. Except for the woman. About every other month. Comes and gives her fresh flowers. Talks to her a few hours. You see?” Camille turned her eyes to a vase of wilting sunflowers. Her world snapped apart.

  “Thank you...for telling us. Can we have a moment alone?” Camille forced a grin and the man shut the door. Billy reached out to touch her shoulder and she flinched. “No...no.” She knelt down. “Judith?” She tried. “Judy, look at me. Now.” Nothing. “Mom.” The word tore. Her rocking stopped. “Mommy, I’m sorry.” Camille took her hand and eyes landed on her own. For just a beat, Judy saw her. A tiny Star of David hung from her neck. Billy lingered back as if he would break the moment like glass. “My name is Camille. I’m your daughter. I’m your little girl. I’m sorry. They did this to you. I can’t fix it.” Camille wept softly in her mother’s lap. The woman lifted a frail hand to touch soft locks of hair, petting her. Not enough registered. “She knows me. She does. Mom?” Judith reached into her robe pocket for a limp doll. A ballet dancer. She offered it and then she was gone again. Rocking.

  “Camille, we have to go.” Billy had to break the glass.

  “No, she knows me.” Camille clutched the ballerina close. Billy grasped her shoulders to bring her up. “No, no...she knows me. Wait. Wait...I can get through. I can fix it. I have to. Mom... Mom, I love you.” A tear rolled down Judy’s cheek. She just rocked with wide eyes. Camille felt herself flutter and tumble. Her mother was gone. Her identity was gone. Billy got her out of there and walked her to the elevator. He ignored Maria on the way to the door and pressed Camille into his car. She rocked too now, curling up with the toy in hand. Billy turned on the car and she broke. A scream stifling into the yarn and stuffing. The price to put these lost fragments together was high. Not even thinking, Billy had his arms around her to stop it. She cried and squirmed. He squeezed her tighter until she was raw. “Please, just take me back. Please, Billy.” He pulled off his brown bomber jacket and let her burrow under it. Air conditioning dried her red, splotched face. Camille wept most of the way home and Billy just let her without a word.

** ** **

  They parked in front of her place and Camille didn’t move. She stared at that huge, pretty house. Numb. Billy unbuckled and turned when she followed.

  "You think...they were running? The car accident?" Camille swallowed.

  "If they were running with you, it means they gave a shit." It meant they loved her.

  "You believe it, don't you? You believe now."

  "Like I have a choice." He'd exhaled, sobering.

  “Do not say anything about this.” She warned with hard eyes.

  “Who can I tell?” He scoffed. “Don’t tell them what you know either. These people. The damn maid. You play Queen Bee and stay out of their shit.”

  “I trusted her. I trusted them. It’s all red now.” Camille trembled and slid closer to Billy next to her.

  “Camille.” He felt her invade his space. His jacket fell from her torso. Faltering on the spot, she seemed intoxicated and offered the words he wanted since she popped that pretty pink bubble.

  “I want...to try something.” Camille ran her hands up his chest and he inhaled deeper. Skin fizzled upon contact. Palms cupped his face, ran back into curls. He didn’t try to touch her, he just stared at her face. Head cocked back and she kissed his neck. Light like a butterfly’s wings. Her lips edged and he grew aroused. Hands lifted to touch her wrists so she came up to see his face. Eyes looked deep into his. Sparkling. “I want you.” Her voice was hoarse. She didn't try to kiss his lips. “I want you. Billy.” She gave a sort of whine against him, forehead on his. He could have laid her back and made her feel good. Slid his hands under her sweater. Let her caress him. Completed the chase at last. But, he didn’t. Any other day but not this one. Not this fucking day. He saw a bloodied fox clamped tight within the sharp teeth of a vicious jackal. He didn't want to be that jackal. Didn't want to pick her from his teeth later as if it was the only way to recall her taste. For once. Billy felt his own flesh pulse. He pulled her wrists back and exhaled her out of his skin, eyes lifting to see her own well up.

  “You only want me now,” Billy Hargrove smashed the glass this time, “because you hate yourself.” Camille sat back. Eyes flickering over his face. A sort of grim acceptance seeped into her expression. She inhaled. Became stone. Became the queen bee. Only because it was all she could do now. Camille got out and smacked the door shut. She didn’t look back at him. Billy watched each light flicker on and off as she moved through that house again. Utterly alone. He didn’t leave. He just sat in his car and pulled his jacket back into his lap. Upstairs, Camille wandered like a ghost, shifting into her parent’s medicine cabinet. She stole a bottle they wouldn’t notice and went to her room. Pills stuffed down her throat like a kid with candy. She didn’t stop, not until the room spun. Not until there was a knock upon her window. The bottle dropped and scattered her treats all over. Lulling, Camille fell back against the front of her bed and looked once more at the doll smashed in her fist. It was all gone and she didn’t care.

[liveandletrain]

Stranger Magic: A Not-Fic ~ Part One

In which the Stranger Things Crew exist in Wizarding Britain at the time of Voldemort’s initial rise to power.

(This is not a happy story. Very few were in those days. But it isn’t an irredeemably sad story either. It is a war story and a life story and a story about friendship and sacrifices that maybe didn’t save the wizarding world but were important nonetheless.)

In 1970, one year before the Marauders meet on the Hogwarts Express, Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove arrive at Hogwarts.

Steve is sorted into Gryffindor and Billy is sorted into Slytherin

(A lot of people would take the opportunity to turn this into an “enemies to lovers” story. I am not one of those people, so don’t feel misled later on. It won’t be happening.)

In 1971, the Marauders arrive at Hogwarts. Also arriving are Nancy Wheeler, Barbara Holland, and Jonathan Byers.

To the surprise of absolutely no one who knows her, Nancy is sorted into Ravenclaw.

Barb is also sorted into Ravenclaw

Jonathan is placed in Hufflepuff

Everyone knows how the Marauders, Lily Evans, and Severus Snape were sorted.

At this time, Voldemort was no more than the faintest rumor on the wind. The biggest problems were keeping your grades up, getting on the Quidditch team, staying on Mcgonagall’s good side, and not letting your roommates find out you are a werewolf.

(Steve does not make the Quidditch team his second year. He does his third. He plays Chaser.)

Jonathan Byers goes home on holiday and tells his little brother stories of the magical school to drown out the sounds of their parents fighting.

The day Lonnie Byers tries to Obliviate Joyce is the day she kicks him out.

He goes to the Auror office and claims that his Muggle wife is trying to keep him away from his magical kids.

Deputy Chief Jim Hopper takes one look at Joyce’s tense posture and wary face and threatens to charge Lonnie with endangering the statute of secrecy if he tries anything ever again.

In 1973, Deputy Chief Hopper is dropping off confiscated artifacts in the Department of Mysteries when he could swear he hears a child’s voice.