#dale stranger things

[girlvasectomy]

Stranger Things and the Upside Down as a Homophobia and AIDS Allegory

One of my favorite theory (if you can call it that) that has emerged—especially when revisiting Season 1—is the idea that the Upside Down functions as a metaphor for homophobia and, more broadly, the AIDS crisis.

Queer Characters and Queercoding

The first season introduces four known victims of the Upside Down:

– Will Byers

– Barb Holland

– Dale and Henry (the two hunters who disappear and are later found dead in the Upside Down)

From the start, Stranger Things presents homophobia as a key part of its story, especially through Will Byers. Will is repeatedly subjected to homophobic bullying—his father calls him a “fag,” his classmates mock him, it's mentioned in the show's Bible. It's even mentioned how other adults think he's gay:

"He’s dead. That’s what my dad says. He said he was probably killed by some other queer."

Will was later confirmed to be gay.

Barb Holland's character has been interpreted by some fans as queer-coded, particularly through insights from the companion novel "Stranger Things: Rebel Robin" and its associated podcast, "Rebel Robin: Surviving Hawkins." In the podcast, Robin Buckley reflects on individuals who are perceived as "different" in Hawkins. She mentions both Will Byers, who is canonically gay, and Barb in this context, suggesting a shared sense of otherness. Robin states, "Barb is like me, well not exactly like me. She fits in better. Probably because she knows how to survive Hawkins better than most people." This implies that Barb, while adept at navigating the social dynamics of Hawkins, conceals aspects of herself that deviate from the town's norms.

Additionally, the podcast reveals that Barb was aware of Mr. Hauser's homosexuality and kept it confidential. This indicates Barb's understanding and acceptance of queer identities, as well as her willingness to protect such secrets in a potentially hostile environment. While the series does not explicitly define Barb's sexuality, these subtle cues contribute to interpretations of her character as queer-coded.

Dale and Henry, the two hunters who go missing. It's the hardest to know if they were queer as we know very, very little about them but some fans have read them as potentially queer-coded��two men on a “hunting trip” together, lost in the same space where Will and Barb disappear. Their Queercoding definitely fall more into confirmation bias but I believe it's still important.

The Upside Down is Fairyland

In the show, Troy taunts Mike, saying:

> "Will's in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies?"

If we take "fairyland" as a coded reference to the Upside Down, then the show implicitly frames the Upside Down as a place where queer people are sent, abandoned, or erased. The fact that he say that Will is with the other fairies add coding to the other victim of the Upside Down.

AIDS, Silence, and Reagan’s America

The setting of Stranger Things—1983—is significant. This was the early stage of the AIDS epidemic, a crisis that would devastate the LGBTQ+ community throughout the decade, while the government turned a blind eye. Season 2 even features a “Reagan/Bush ‘84” sign in front of Mike’s house, subtly reminding the audience of the political landscape of the time. Ronald Reagan’s administration infamously ignored AIDS, treating it as a “gay disease” and refusing to acknowledge the suffering of thousands.

Now, think about how people treat the Upside Down:

– It’s a dark, decaying reflection of the real world, as if it exists alongside but separate.

– The town of Hawkins ignores its dangers until it spills over into their daily lives.

– The Upside Down is a place of sickness and infection—the air itself is toxic, and creatures like the Demogorgon spread its influence.

And then there’s Will. He is the one who escape the Upside Down, but he doesn’t come back unscathed. He’s hiding something (the slug he coughs up in the last episode of Season 1), much like how people in the early days of AIDS might have concealed symptoms out of fear of discrimination. Will’s mother and friends want to believe he’s "better" after being rescued, but his sickness – or his homosexuality – lingers, unspoken, just beneath the surface.

Eleven

Eleven is an interesting parallel to this metaphor. She is one of the only characters who can communicate between the real world and the Upside Down, and she exists between binaries in other ways too.

With her cropped hair, baggy clothes, and initial lack of gendered presentation, she is gender nonconforming (GNC) – even being mistaken for a boy, and even for Will, by other characters – until she’s literally forced into a pink dress and a wig to “pass” as a normal girl.

Her first unfiltered reaction to seeing a girl (Nancy) is to call her “pretty.” She lacks traditional social conditioning about gender and attraction, making her an outsider in yet another way.

If the Upside Down represents queerness as something suppressed or ignored, then Eleven—who can move between the two worlds—represents someone who refuses to be confined by traditional expectations. She is a figure who is both rejected by society and holds the key to confronting its horrors.

Conclusion

Ultimately, Stranger Things Season 1 can be read as a story about queerness in a small, conservative town—a town where being different means being pushed into the shadows. The Upside Down is not just a monster-infested wasteland; it is a space of forced invisibility, a place where those who do not conform are cast away, erased, or left to suffer in silence.

From the way Will is bullied and called a "fairy" to the fact that Barb, a queer character, is simply forgotten until people found a cause more safe and clean for her death (the chemical leak lie in Stranger Things 2). Stranger Things subtly critiques the way LGBTQ+ individuals were (and often still are) treated. The Upside Down is a place of isolation, silence, and sickness—just as homophobia forced many queer people into secrecy, and just as the AIDS epidemic took thousands of lives while the world looked away.

[strange-anni]

In S1E1 there are two men at Bennys

Then later in S1E2 when Hopper asks about the missing kid (Will) Earl says this:

Hopper: Just you and the boys? Earl: Yep. Me and Henry and Well, there was this, uh, this kid.

Then

Earl: I didn't get a good look at him, though. He was back in the kitchen. Hopper: He look like this? Earl: Oh, no, that's, that's Lonnie's missin' kid.

In S1E5 we hear of Henry again

Powell: We tried calling, but - Hopper: Yeah, the phone's dead. Callahan: Hey, so Bev Mooney came in this morning all upset. Said that Dale and Henry went hunting yesterday and they didn't come back home.

Then

Hopper: Where did Henry and Dale go hunting? Callahan: Oh. Uh, out near Kerley. Hopper: Mirkwood.

[noonewilleverknowistealkneecaps]

He calls them both babygirl

[al1ennoises]

I try to be normal but my 4 moods are these mfs

[ghost-of-diogenes]

made a video, I talk about things as per usual. discussion includes Stranger Things, Welcome to Night Vale and Gravity Falls (and Twin Peaks, obviously)

As well as having copious amounts of hair gel in my hair to emulate the man himself, Dale Cooper.

[thegayhimbo]

Stranger Things Tales from Hawkins Review

If you haven’t yet, be sure to check out my other Stranger Things Reviews. Like, Reblog, and let me know what your thoughts are regarding the show or the upcoming season! :)

Stranger Things Reviews/Theories

Stranger Things Comics/Graphic Novels:

Stranger Things Six

Stranger Things Halloween Special

Stranger Things The Other Side

Stranger Things Zombie Boys

Stranger Things The Bully

Stranger Things Winter Special

Stranger Things Tomb of Ybwen

Stranger Things Into The Fire

Stranger Things Science Camp

Stranger Things “The Game Master” and “Erica’s Quest”

Stranger Things and Dungeons and Dragons

Stranger Things Kamchatka

Stranger Things Erica The Great

Stranger Things “Creature Feature” and “Summer Special”

Stranger Things Tie-In Books:

Stranger Things Suspicious Minds

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 1 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 2 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 3 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 1 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 2 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 3 of 3)

Stranger Things Rebel Robin Book and Podcast (Part 1 of 2)

Stranger Things Rebel Robin Book and Podcast (Part 2 of 2)

Stranger Things Hawkins Horrors Review

Stranger Things Flight Of Icarus

Stranger Things Lucas On The Line

Stranger Things Episode Reviews:

The Vanishing of Will Byers (Season 1, Episode 1)

Synopsis: Set between the events of Seasons 1-2, this comic chronicles tales from various Hawkins residents as they attempt to survive the daily grind while also dealing with lurking threats hidden beneath the town.......

Observations:

One of the reasons I've expressed interest in the Stranger Things comics and tie-ins is because I see them as an opportunity to expand more on characters, storylines, and other mytharc elements. It's a well of untapped potential that makes for good reading material.

To their credit, they have done this with some tie-ins/comics.

With others...........for whatever reason (whether it's lack of imagination, or being kept on a creative short leash by Netflix and the Duffer Brothers), they've turned out some real disappointments. These range from stories that are contradictory to the show's canon, to focusing on characters that no one cares about (and are likely NOT going to have any important roles in S5), to simply rehashing plots/character arcs that have been done to death without offering anything new to the table, or simply failing to take advantage of characters who have been introduced (i.e. Argyle, Colonel Sullivan, Vickie, Gareth, etc).

In that regard, Tales from Hawkins is a mixed bag. It's an anthology comic composed of 4 different stories. Two of them focus on main characters (Murray and Robin) whereas the other two are about minor Hawkins characters from the show who have dangerous encounters with the Upside Down. The ideas explored in these stories support the show's themes, but the way certain stories were executed left a lot to be desired.

As usual, I will be splitting this review into 4 parts, with each one covering a different Issue from the comic:

Part 1: Dale and Henry

For those who don't remember, Dale and Henry (no, not Henry Creel) were the hunters who disappeared in S1 and were later confirmed dead at the hands of the Demogorgon. We saw them briefly at Benny's Diner, but the audience was only informed about their gruesome fates later.

This is the story from their perspective.

LSS: Both of them were out in the woods "hunting," saw a trail of bleeding animal carcasses, decided to continue investigating in spite of all the warnings that this was a BAD IDEA, encountered something they shouldn't have........and you know the rest.

The artwork for this story is haunting. In addition to capturing the beauty of Hawkins at sunset and the dark horrors of the Upside Down, the pictures manage to convey a sense of gruesomeness and dread as Henry and Dale follow the Demogorgon's trail of destruction:

In some ways, it reminds me of the first Predator movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger. In that story, Arnold played a character name Alan "Dutch" Schaefer who was part of a military team that discovers corpses during their mission in the jungle. When the Predator arrives, it starts picking off the team one-by-one until Dutch is forced to face the monster in a showdown.

The biggest differences between Predator and this Issue are 1.) Neither Henry nor Dale are military trained, and they certainly aren't the expert hunters they portray themselves as (which the comic spells out):

And 2.) Unlike the movie, where there was at least a chance for Dutch to fight off the Predator........that ain't the case for Henry:

All of which brings me to my first problem with this particular story: Because we already know the fates of Dale and Henry before they happen, it becomes hard to get invested. TV tropes even has a name for this called Too Bleak, Stopped Caring where things are so awful for the characters (or the audience knows things are going to end badly) that readers/viewers emotionally tune out and become apathetic to what's happening. This isn't the same thing as the Eight Deadly Words (I don't care what happens to these characters), but it comes close to that.

It doesn't help that the comic doesn't do much to flesh-out Dale or Henry. We get a brief snippet about how Henry's wife Val is undergoing chemo and how Dale has grandkids, but that's it. It's useless trivia which doesn't factor into the situation taking place, and it still doesn't get me to care. I'm not saying I need to hear their life stories, but you gotta give me more than that.

Adding onto this, there are continuity errors that were hard to ignore. The comic states that Henry and Dale's fatal trip into the woods takes place a few hours after Benny's death, which would mean this would've occurred on November 8th. However, in the show, Hopper is informed by Powell and Callahan on November 11th that Henry and Dale disappeared into the woods the day before, which means the fatal hunting trip would've had to happen on November 10th. I watched the show and took notes on the days certain events occurred, so I know what I'm talking about.

Jody Houser was the writer for all 4 anthology tales, and this isn't the first time she's made continuity mistakes like this. She did the same thing in SIX when she wrote Terry breaking into the lab to rescue El as taking place in 1978 in spite of it being confirmed by people working on the show that this actually took place in 1974. She also did this in two other stories she wrote ("The Game Master" and Dungeons & Dragons) when it came to Will being in the hospital after his time in the Upside Down. "The Game Master" claims Will was discharged from the hospital before Thanksgiving, whereas Dungeons & Dragons contradicts this by depicting him as still in the hospital after Thanksgiving.

I was willing to overlook these errors early on (let's not forget the Duffer Brothers blunder in forgetting Will's Birthday was on March 22nd), but this has gotten to the point of being ridiculous. If fans are able to better keep track of dates than paid writers can, that's a problem that needs to be fixed pronto.

Despite my issues though, I will give credit where credit is due in that Jody Houser kept one thing consistent: Will finding a dying Henry in the UD and comforting him in his final moments. This is an event that also took place in her other comic, The Other Side:

It's a small moment, but a heartwarming one which highlights Will's empathy and willingness to look out for others, and I'm glad it was kept in.

Part 2: Murray Bauman

I know fan opinions about Murray are all over the place. Some like him, some hate him, and some are completely indifferent to him. I'm in the third category.

I've never hated Murray, but out of all the main characters, he is the one who could die and I wouldn't bat an eye. I've never connected with him the same way I did with other characters, and he's always felt like an outlier in regards to his relationships with everyone else. Even Erica (who's been a controversial character for certain fans) has had more organic interactions with the others, as well as a subtle but effective character arc on her part that's been interesting to watch. Murray doesn't have that, and has pretty much remained the same person he's been since his introduction in S2.

It doesn't help that there are times Murray comes across more as a convenient plot device to make certain events happen. For instance, I've never liked how he acted as matchmaker for Jonathan/Nancy in S2 and Hopper/Joyce in S3. Whenever the show wrote him that way, it always felt like he became the writers mouthpiece for which romantic relationships they were shilling, which is something that annoyed me. Even Murray coincidentally speaking Russian came off as a quick and easy way to bypass the language barrier and all the other plot-related hiccups the other characters would've struggled with during the Russian arc in Seasons 3-4 had he not been present.

So when they announced that one of the stories would focus on Murray, I was genuinely interested because I was hoping we'd get more insight into his character, mindset, and backstory that wasn't just about him getting the other main characters from point A to point B. In some areas, this Issue delivered on that.

The story takes place after the events of season 1 when Murray comes to Hawkins after being hired by Barbara's parents to investigate her disappearance.

From there, it follows Murray integrating himself into the Hawkins community, picking up tips and clues, and spinning his own theories that would eventually lead him to discovering the truth about Eleven, Barb's death, Will's disappearance, Hawkins Lab, and (of course) the Upside Down.

For whatever problems I have with Murray, I do appreciate how the comic depicts what he's doing as authentic "investigative journalism" as opposed to depicting him as a conspiracy theorist who just happened to stumble on the truth and have his claims validated. I knew they likely wouldn't go that route since he's established on the show as working for the Chicago-Sun Times (which gives his character credibility) but considering we're currently living in a climate where peddling unfounded conspiracy theories is a thing (whether it's from right-winged pundits like Tucker Carlson or Alex Jones, groups like QAnon, or even Leftist antisemites spewing blood libel, Holocaust inversion/revisionism, Hilter apologism, and a bunch of other antisemitic garbage designed to hurt the Jewish community), it's refreshing to see Murray putting in the hard work of researching instead of spouting unfounded claims and trying to act like the smartest person in the room. There are certain Tumblr users who could take a leaf out of Murray's book instead of falling into this pattern:

(Credit to @sethshead for posting this quote because this really sums up the problem with Conspiracy Theorists in a nutshell.)

But I digress. My point is this story gives me new respect for Murray over the weeks and months he spent investigating and chasing down leads despite how tough it was:

Additionally, the comic goes out of its way to paint Murray as a crusader for the truth, but it's also heavily implied that the reason he makes work his life is because, deep down, he is lonely. While he claims he's only interested in integrating himself into the Hawkins community (including signing up for an "all ages" Karate class) for the purposes of the investigation, there are hints that he actually wants human connection, and that he's miserable when left by himself:

This is an interesting angle to Murray, and one that recontextualizes his relationship with Joyce, Hopper, and the other main characters. He makes himself off-putting (whether as a defense mechanism, or as part of his job) and may not know how to go about socializing in a way that doesn't make him seem unpleasant, but he clearly does value these friendships and getting to spend time with the others. I still remember Murray having the strongest reaction to Alexei's death in S3 after hanging out with him at the carnival and buying him a corn dog........only to watch Alexei get shot:

I'll admit I never cared much for Alexei, but the fact that any potential friendship between him and Murray got snuffed out in this moment hits hard.

The story doesn't leave a lot of clues about what direction Murray's character will take in season 5, but I'm inclined to believe that Murray will be one of the casualties in the fight against Vecna, especially if the writers plan on upping the stakes by killing off important characters. As far as Murray's arc is concerned, he's fulfilled his role of getting Hawkins Lab shut down, ending the Russian infiltration of Hawkins in S3, and helping Joyce rescue Hopper from Kamchatka in S4. As to where they could go with Murray in the last season, I see two possible scenarios:

1.) The Russians/KGB come back to Hawkins in S5 to take revenge against Hopper, Joyce, and Murray for destroying their operation in Kamchatka, and to possibly get more UD monsters from the now-opened gate in Hawkins. This could lead to Murray having a role in stopping the Russians once and for all. If the writers decide to bring back Enzo/Dmitiri (please make that happen) or even Yuri, they could have Murray form a comradery with either character, which I wouldn't mind seeing.

2.) Murray will play some kind of role in keeping the government (primarily Colonel Sullivan) off El's back as she deals with Vecna's impending invasion.

Either way, I'm predicting things are going to end badly for him.

Part 3: Robin

I'm just gonna say it: This was my least favorite Issue out of all 4 of them.

The story focuses on Robin working on a class project where she's a writer/director for a horror film starring Tammy Thompson. During all of this, Robin is pining after Tammy, expressing her frustration with Tammy's shallow crush on Steve (as well as Steve's douchebag behavior), and struggling internally with being a lesbian in good old 1980s homophobic Hawkins.

Sounds familiar? That's because both Zombie Boys and the Rebel Robin book/podcast already covered these ideas and plot points. Zombie Boys was about Will and his friends making a horror movie that was a metaphor for Will's unresolved trauma/PTSD (similar to how Robin's horror movie is a metaphor for feeling trapped in Hawkins and never breaking free), and Rebel Robin already explored Robin's crush on Tammy, her initial dislike of Steve, her desire to graduate high school and leave Hawkins for good, and her coming to terms with the fact she likes girls and how revealing this would turn her into a social pariah.

Look, I like Robin and I find value in her story, especially as someone like me who identifies as gay and lives in a small conservative town where you keep your mouth shut about certain things. However, this tale isn't breaking new ground here. It's just retreading the same story beats without offering anything we haven't seen before. Rebel Robin already did this, and did it so much better.

If they really wanted to make Robin the centerpiece for this particular Issue, why not cover something different? We could have gotten a story about Robin and Steve working at the Video Rental Store, or Robin telling Steve about "Operation Croissant" and inviting him to come with her to Europe once she saves up enough money and graduates. There were even opportunities to explore her relationship with other characters outside of Steve, the Scoops Troop, and Tammy. They did this with Robin and Nancy in S4 (which was one of my favorite character pairings from that season) and Lucas on the Line even had Robin and Lucas forming a close friendship as Lucas was struggling to figure his life out, so I don't see why they couldn't have done this for other characters that Robin hasn't gotten much screentime with. Hell, since they're already planning to push Robin and Vickie as endgame for S5, why not have a story about Robin first meeting Vickie?

Better yet, since this is an anthology comic that's supposed to focus on various characters, why not go more in depth with others? Jason. Patrick. Chrissy. Fred. Vickie. Scott Clarke. Dr. Owens. There's a plethora of other characters from the show who could be (and deserve to be) expanded on as opposed to a character like Robin who's already had an entire book and podcast dedicated to her. We could even be covering main characters like Jonathan (do a comic showing how he met Argyle and became friends with him), or Steve for that matter. I would rather see a story about Steve, his internal perspective on the events from the show, his relationship with his parents, or something that ISN'T just rehashing this again:

WE. GET. IT. Steve was an asshole at the beginning. This is not news. Please stop exploring Steve's character from this angle, and actually do something original with him.

This isn't the first time I've expressed my frustration about this. My review of The Bully was equally scathing about how they dedicated an entire graphic novel to two loathsome characters while pushing other characters with potentially interesting arcs/perspectives to the side. It frustrates me to see writers/creators retread old ground that the audience has long grown tired of. I like the comics and tie-in materials, and I am more than happy to defend them from fans who consider them a waste of time, but that doesn't mean I'm above calling out the material if it's not contributing anything meaningful.

Part 4: The Pumpkin Patch Rivalry

This one pleasantly surprised me. I wasn't expecting to care about the story, and I wasn't as big of a fan of the artwork (especially in comparison to the first 3 stories which, in spite of their flaws, were colorful and well-drawn). Regardless of that nitpick though, I ended up embracing it. I would even go as far to say that this is my favorite Issue out of the 4 of them.

The story takes place in season 2, and centers on Merrill Wright and Eugene McCorkle, the two Pumpkin Patch owners who briefly appeared at Hopper's precinct to accuse the other of sabotaging their fields, which would later lead Hopper to investigate and discover the Upside Down spreading underneath Hawkins.

The comic expands on Eugene and Merrill's history, revealing there's always been a family rivalry between the Wrights and the McCorkle, starting from harmless pranks that eventually turned hurtful:

Furthermore, the story puts a heavy emphasis on how the rivalry is rooted in the patriarchs of the families as opposed to every individual member from one family hating the the members of the other family.

All of this cultivates with the destruction of their pumpkin patches, the two men confronting each other on a decaying field, a vicious fight breaking out.......and both men getting more than they bargained for:

While the story is simple on the surface, it struck a chord with me given recent world events. I know this particular Issue was written a month before the October 7th Massacre and the Israel-Hamas War, and the fictional rivalry between Eugene and Merrill pales in comparison to the real life horrific onslaught that is occurring in this conflict, but for me, it was hard not to see some parallels between Merrill and Eugene's years of bitterness and anger over their rivalry vs the decades worth of grudges, wars, bloody conflicts, massacres, old wounds, and hatred that has festered between Israelis and Palestinians and exploded in the worst possible way. Eugene and Merrill thankfully stop short of trying to murder one another (or targeting rival family members), but it very easily could have gone in that direction. Hatred is a powerful emotion that leads to tragedy.

And just like with those in Israel and Palestine who desperately want peace and are sick of the decades of fighting and their respective governments falling down the pipeline of extremism while continuing to destroy more lives, the members of both the Wright and McCorkle families want their respective conflict to end.

The difference is that Merrill and Eugene get that opportunity to mend fences, but it takes them being put in a life-threatening situation and almost dying at the hands of demodogs before that happens:

Stories like this give me hope that things can change for the better. That people can put aside grudges and old wounds and be there for one another when it really counts. We need stories like this more than ever, especially with how scary the worlds gotten and how people who put on a mask of being "tolerant" and "progressive" and "looking out for the well-being of others" have revealed themselves to be just as hateful, cruel, hypocritical, patronizing, and vicious as those they claim to oppose.

Eugene and Merrill may have started their rivalry over pettiness, but when the chips were down, they were willing to put that aside and work to fix relationships and create a better future for their families:

Regardless of how they acted, or how they started out, I have more respect for them as opposed to certain people in REAL LIFE who are pushing their own agendas, spreading lies, misinformation, and conspiracy theories, and intentionally creating strife and conflict while pretending to give a shit about peace. Those who follow this blog know exactly who I'm referring to.

While I doubt Eugene and Merrill will appear in season 5, their arc about redemption and overcoming old prejudices might factor into the arc regarding the Hawkins residents in the last season. The show has spent multiple seasons showing the inherent problems in Hawkins, from the rampant bullying, to the bigotry, to the government corruption, to how quickly neighbors will turn on one another out of fear and paranoia. Season 4 emphasized this heavily with the Witch Hunt against the Hellfire Club and the desire to create scapegoats (like Eddie and El) for the town's problems without the townsfolk doing the hard work of self-reflection and changing for the better. If the behind-the-scenes pictures for Season 5 are any indicator, it's about to get worse:

I don't think there's any question about whether Vecna will be defeated (he will). The questions are how much damage he'll cause, how many lives he'll ruin in the process, and how the citizens of Hawkins could enable him to get as far as he does. Vecna may be the cause of the main characters' problems, but even if he wasn't there and had never existed, the reality is Hawkins has a personal nastiness rooted in the community that has made life miserable for a lot of people, especially those who don't fit the town's definition of "normal."

Vecna's greatest weapon isn't just his powers, but his ability to see the ugliness in people, and weaponize fear and all the inherent wrongs of society to isolate people so he can pick them off one-by-one. He reminds me of the Joker from The Dark Knight, who thrived on chaos and was determined to show everything wrong with humanity, and even Sauron from The Silmarillion, who exploited the problems and prejudices the kingdom of Numenor had so he could drive them to destruction. Vecna hates Hawkins and despises humanity. What makes him terrifying isn't his army of monsters, but his ability to bring out the worst in people to the point they become the monsters.

Getting back to the story of Eugene and Merrill, their arc about redemption, forgiveness, and working to unify rather than divide is the antidote needed to combat Vecna. If I predict anything, it's this: The battle against Vecna isn't just going to depend on the actions of the main characters, but the action of the Hawkins residents. Some of them have chosen to flee for their own safety, but others will be caught in this conflict, and they will have to make hard choices to either let go of old biases/prejudices that are causing harm, or continue holding on to them out of stubborn pride and allow Vecna to divide them in doing so.

Final Thoughts:

Overall, while this comic had some good elements, it was disappointing in many areas. Like I said, I'm open to exploring the stories of the townsfolk of Hawkins (and other characters), but the way it was done with some of these stories wasn't impressive.

If you still want to check out the comic for yourself, I recommend Issue 2 (Murray's story) and Issue 4 (The Pumpkin Patch Rivalry). Other than that, you're not missing anything by skipping it.

[pinkfr0ggle]

hi looking for someone to do a twin peaks rp with me!! preferably dale cooper x harry truman. rp or even just plotting would be fun bc i can be too busy to reply sometimes. dm me if you're interested!! 21+ pls

[ohtheewhorer]

~DNI -racists, transphobes, homophobes, any hateful or rude people, minors~

Masterlist

About Me

Main & Multi-Fandom Writing Blog

New Work(s): Dale K. X Chubby!Reader, Dale K. X Clingy!Dom!Reader

Whorer Characters (Who I write For)

What I do/do not write

WIP(S): Kinktober 2024

[hitchell-mope]

Stranger Things Robin Hood 1973 au.

Mike. Robin Hood.

Jane. Maid Marian.

Lucas. Little John.

Robin. Lady Cluck.

Jonathan. Alan A Dale.

Dustin. Friar Tuck.

Jim. Richard The Lionheart.

Carver. Prince John.

Walsh. Sir Hiss.

Hargrove. Sheriff Of Nottingham.

[strangertheories]

One thing I'll never understand about Stranger Things is how the townspeople of Hawkins accepted the events of S1. Was no one confused why there was an unidentified child's dead body in the quarry? How did they explain away the deaths of Dale and Henry, the hunters who were sucked into the Upside Down in S1 and never spoken of again? Nobody remembered the child with a shaved head who stole some waffles and exploded doors? Slash made a swing spin around and scared a child? Slash break a child's arm and make him pee himself?

No wonder Murray was so suspicious.

[stickmeinhornyjail]

Fictional Men from Television That Have Me in a Stranglehold: an evolving list.

1) Henry Fitzroy, Blood Ties

2) Harvey Kinkle, Sabrina The Teenage Witch

3) Vincent Keller, Beauty and The Beast (CW)

4) Raylan Givens, Justified

5) Special Agent Dale Cooper, Twin Peaks

6) Ethan Chandler, Penny Dreadful

7) The Hot Priest, Fleabag

8) Jack Reacher, Reacher

9) Jim Hopper, Stranger Things

[matcha-gh0st]

[sanguineterrain]

it's a feeling that's fine - s.h.

Summary: You accidentally climb the wrong fence on the hottest day of May. It turns out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no physical descriptions, etc. reader is in a toxic friendship; she's slightly bullied in that indirect mean girl way, but the toxic friendship ends. reader cuts her finger by accident. drinking and drug mentions. fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers, summer vibes, so many princess bride references. steve is super duper sweet!!! post s4 volume 2.

A/N: so if you wondered where i've been for the last two months.... it was in a cave writing this fic. i'm really proud of this one; the reader is a little different than how i usually write, but i hope you'll like her all the same :) if you enjoy this fic, please please let me know through comments/reblogs!

divider by firefly-graphics

Today is hot. 

Weatherman Dale had said this morning that today is a record high for May. It’s so hot, in fact, that Debbie Wellerman had called you this morning asking if you wanted to come swim in her pool. 

You’d asked if you could dig for worms in her yard. She’d sighed and hung up. You hope that means yes. Joan has been in need of some company. Worms would be good for her.

You go around Debbie’s house and stop at the back gate. The Wellermans are kind of mean and they don’t like it when you take too many cucumber sandwiches. To avoid them, you’ve taken to going through the back gate whenever Debbie invites you over. It works pretty well.

Except today, the gate is locked. Which is weird, because Debbie usually leaves it open. It’s how her boyfriend, Brett, sneaks in during the day, and how Brett’s brother, Chet, sneaks in at night. 

You’d asked once why the brothers come over separately. Debbie had gotten mad and kicked you out without giving you any ice cream. You don’t ask about Brett and Chet anymore.

The problem is that you’re wearing flip flops, which are not ideal for climbing fences. Or anything, really. You once climbed a jungle gym in flip flops and skinned both knees. 

You slip off your flip flops and fling them over the fence. They land a second later, clapping against the ground. The fence is covered in climbing ivy and tiny red flowers you’ve never seen before. You wonder how Debbie made them grow so fast.

The street is empty, which is nice. Sometimes people in Loch Nora like to yell at people who don’t also live in Loch Nora. 

The fence wood is hot but not so hot that you can’t touch it. You stick your feet in the little grooves and start to climb. It’s not too high of a fence, but it’s high enough to warn people who don’t belong here.

That’s never stopped you, though.

Getting over is trickier. You expect Debbie to see you by now, but there’s no sound. She must be inside, or maybe she’s out and forgot she’s invited you. She does that sometimes.

Wood dust clings to your fingers and the soles of your feet. When you’re a foot from the ground, you hop down. Then you turn.

There’s no sign of Debbie. There is, however, a boy.

He’s reclined on an inflatable blue ring floaty in the middle of the pool. He wears sunglasses and red board shorts with little white anchors on them. 

He has very pretty hair, both on his head and chest. He also has pretty lips. And arms. All of him is pretty, really. You wish you could see his face properly. He probably has a nice face too. Symmetrical and kind.

The area around the pool is paved just like at Debbie’s—only it’s a lot larger than you remember. There's a patch of dirt next to the gate. You go and crouch at the edge. You don't see any worms. Probably because it's so hot. You'd stay underground too if you were a worm.

You stand and turn to look at the boy again. He looks like he might be asleep. 

“Did Debbie invite you?” you ask.

The boy shoots up from the floaty. The shift in weight makes him lose his balance and he topples into the water a moment later. The floaty flips with him. 

He resurfaces almost immediately, spitting water and rubbing chlorine from his eyes. You squint.

Yes, you were right. He does have a very nice face.

The water comes up to his waist. He pushes his hair back in handfuls, blinking. Then he fishes his sunglasses out with his foot and sets them on his head. 

“Can you swim?” you ask.

He stares at you, blinking.

“What?” he says after a beat. 

“Can you swim?” you repeat.

“Uh, yeah? Yes, of course I can swim.”

"It would be bad luck if you couldn’t.”

His brows furrow.

“Because I can't swim,” you clarify.

“I wouldn’t be in the pool if I couldn’t swim,” he says.

“That’s good thinking.”

You sit at the edge of the pool and dip your calves in. He wades closer until he’s about three feet away.

“How did you get here?” he asks.

“I walked.”

“I mean, how did you get in my backyard?”

“Oh. I climbed the fence.” 

You peer closer. He looks familiar, but you can’t quite place him. 

“Are you Brett and Chet’s triplet?” you ask. “You’re a lot prettier than them. Did their mother feed you extra vitamins?"

His eyes go wide. “Uh… Brett and Chet Kingsley?”

“Uh-huh. Debbie invites both of them over, but never at the same time.”

“Who's—they don’t have a triplet.”

“That’s good. Three’s bad luck.”

“My house number has a three in it,” he says.

“Don’t step on any sidewalk cracks,” you warn.

He tilts his head, tongue poking out like he’s sizing you up. You let him, focusing on his face instead. He has dark, warm eyes the color of black tea. His shoulders are toned with lots of freckles on them. He looks like a boy who’d like Debbie, not you. 

“Is Debbie going to be back soon?” you ask. You don’t want to get attached to a boy who’ll just end up wanting Debbie instead. You've made that mistake before.

“Um… if you’re talking about Debbie Wellerman, she lives on the next block over. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Oh. You’re the guy who fought the monsters.”

He eyes you warily. “Wh—how do you know about the monsters?”

"Who doesn't?" 

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it. 

“You can’t tell anyone," he finally says. 

You shrug and kick at the water gently.

“I have no one to tell. Debbie doesn’t believe in monsters.”

“She doesn’t believe in giving you a key either, huh?”

“She doesn’t usually lock her gate,” you say. 

“Well, this isn’t her gate.”

“Yeah. I like your shorts.”

Steve’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Are you getting sunstroke?” you ask. 

That turns his cheeks pinker. 

“No, no." He coughs. "I’m fine.”

“It’s a record high temperature for May,” you say. “That’s what Weatherman Dale said. The highest it's ever been since 1923." 

“Yeah, I heard." He nods. "I didn’t wanna run the AC the whole day so, here I am. My friend Robin was supposed to come over, but I guess she bailed.”

“Robin is a nice name. Is she a bird?”

Steve smiles. “No, she’s a girl.”

“Oh. I thought maybe she was a bird you’d made friends with while fighting monsters.”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I did sort of make friends with her while fighting monsters.”

“Robins are good omens. They bring luck."

“Huh.”

You swallow. You’re probably talking too much. That’s what Debbie would say. That’s why boys sneak into her yard and not yours. 

"So." Steve puts a hand over his forehead to block the sun. "Debbie Wellerman, huh? You don't seem like the type to be her friend."

"Friends can come from the most unusual places," you say. "Like under a tree or at the bottom of the ocean."

"Have you made many friends at the bottom of the ocean?" Steve asks with a smile. 

You hesitate. Is he making fun of you? Sometimes, you can't tell. The people in Loch Nora are good at making fun of you without you knowing. 

Steve’s hair has already begun to dry, a little crunchy from the chlorine. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of you.

"Not many. But that's where I found Joan," you say.

"Joan was at the bottom of the ocean?"

"Kind of. I found her in a pond. Then I found her sister, but I lost her at sea and I couldn't swim out to rescue her. It was a sad day. Joan didn't handle it well."

Steve's brows rise. "Wow. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Joan has been on the incline. I think she's finally ready to get back out there. I wanted to find her company, but I didn't want to disturb your dirt." 

“My dirt?”

“Mmhm. I'm trying to make a social club for her."

"Out of dirt?"

"Out of worms."

"Huh."

Steve rests his chin on his arm that's perched on the ledge. 

"Your hair is wavy," you observe. 

"What? Oh, yeah. I didn't put anything in it."

"Like what? Secrets?"

"No, like, gel. Product."

You nod in realization. "Your hair was so big in school.”

Steve winces. "Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't the best guy back then."

"You were in your chrysalis. You needed time to grow. But then you turned into a butterfly. Or a moth, if you prefer."

"Moths are spooky," says Steve. "They look like they have eyes on their wings."

"Yes. But they're actually friendly. Unless you eat them. Some are poisonous." You lean in, deadly serious. "Don't eat moths."

"Will do."

"No, don't. And warn your Robin too. She might think one looks delicious and meet her doom."

A smile creeps onto Steve's face. 

"You're kind of strange," he says. "In the best way possible."

"Thank you."

"Do you want some lemonade?" 

"Is it poisoned?" 

"What?" Steve startles. "No, of course not."

"No, I suppose not," you say thoughtfully. "You hadn't expected me to climb over your gate, so you wouldn't have had time to poison the lemonade."

Steve stacks one arm atop his other, looking up at you. The ends of his hair have begun to curl. You like it so much. 

"What if I pour from the pitcher right in front of you? Will that make you feel better?" he asks. 

"You can still put something in my glass," you say. "Or you might have built a tolerance to the poison for this exact moment. Like in The Princess Bride."

"I'm only twenty-one. I would've had to start very young to build a tolerance. Besides, what would be my motivation to poison you?"

You shake your head. "There's no need for motivation. Violent delights. But you've fought monsters, and Lucas Sinclair says you're a good guy. So, yes, I will have some lemonade."

Steve pushes himself out of the pool with ease, dripping water all over the concrete. You stare at the rivulets that hurry down his legs and chest. He has a lot of hair everywhere. You like that too.

He offers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Your shoulder bumps his. Steve's skin is warm. He smells like chlorine and something sweeter. Pineapple, maybe. 

"You would do very well as a knight," you say. "If I were a princess, I'd want you to commit yourself to me."

Steve makes a weird noise in his throat. 

"Uh, th-thanks," he says. 

"You're welcome."

"So you, uh, know Lucas?"

"Yes. He lives on my block. His mom gives me rides sometimes."

You step in through the sliding glass door, which puts you directly in the kitchen. The house is at least twenty degrees cooler. You shiver at the sudden temperature change. 

"You don't have a car?" Steve asks. 

"No."

"You walked from your house to Loch Nora?"

"I took the bus part of the way. Then I walked."

Steve takes two glasses down from the shelf. Then he opens the refrigerator. You sit at the large kitchen island while he pours. 

"Debbie Wellerman has a car," Steve says. 

"Uh-huh. A Porsche."

A money car, she'd called it when she got it for her sixteenth birthday. Boys love girls with money cars. Maybe that's why boys don't love you. 

Steve hands you a glass. You take a long sip. Your mouth puckers and you scrunch your eyes shut as the acid coats your tongue.

"Shit. Not enough sugar?"

You swallow and open your eyes. 

"It's wonderful, Steve," you say earnestly. 

"You don't have to lie. I saw your mouth screw up."

"I'm not lying. It's the right amount of sour." 

Steve takes his own sip. His lips pucker, and he shakes his head.

"Nope. Definitely needs more sugar."

You cradle your glass in your hands. "Don't take mine. She's perfect."

Steve breathes a laugh, returning the pitcher to the fridge. He sits beside you on the island. He's already developing a slight tan. You wonder if more freckles appear the longer he's in the sun. 

"Why doesn't Debbie pick you up?" he asks. 

"Why would she pick me up?" 

"Because that's what nice friends do. And it's unfair to expect you to come all the way here when the buses don't go through Loch Nora."

"Debbie always expects me to come over," you say. "So I do. She doesn't like my house."

Steve frowns deeply. 

"I don't mind the walk," you offer, trying to make him smile again. 

It doesn't work. Steve takes another sip. His lips purse, red like cherry candy and shiny with lemonade. 

"She should meet you halfway more often," he says, dumping his lemonade into the sink. 

You trace shapes into the condensation of your glass. 

"I wanted to go rollerblading," you say. "But…"

"But what?" he prompts. 

"She didn't. Neither did Brett. They wanted to make out in the pool.”

Steve grimaces. “Sounds like a drag.”

“They make weird noises. Like goats at the zoo.”

Steve snorts. You smile and kick your legs, pleased.

“My friends go rollerblading,” he says. “The kids love to skate at the park. You could come with us one day.”

“You have kids?”

“No, I—” Steve shakes his head, chuckling. “Definitely not. No, they’re only a few years younger than me, but me and the other people our age call them kids. They’re part of our little monster-fighting group. Anyway, uh, y'know. Open invite. If you're ever tired of goat noises."

You stare at him for a minute. He seems nervous, and you can't make out why. Nobody's ever nervous around you.

"Okay," you say. "I'd like to meet your kids."

"Cool. Well, um, I can give you my number. We usually meet up on weekends, but once school ends, any day is game."

Your heart rate picks up. You know this part. Only from a distance, of course. But you know what it means when a boy gives a girl his number. 

“You want me to call you?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I feel like it’s a little forward for me to ask the girl who climbed my fence for her number. So, um, you can call me. Is that cool?”

Steve looks at you and waits. You chew your lip and nod.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles. “Great! I think I have a pen around here somewhere…”

Steve walks around the table to a stationary caddy on the counter and takes out a blue Sharpie. You stick out your arm, palm up. 

"Uh…" He looks at you. "I can find a notepad."

"This helps me memorize things better," you say and wiggle your fingers. 

"I don't wanna give you ink poisoning."

"You didn't poison me before. You're not very good at it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

You shrug. "Depends on your aspirations."

Steve hesitates for another second. Then he takes the top of your forearm and begins to write on the soft underside. He writes slowly, which tickles, but you remain still. 

He's so close. You're reminded all over again of his hands and warmth and pineapple scent. 

Steve caps the marker. You inspect the writing. 

"Good penmanship," you say. 

"Think so? Robin says it's chicken scratch. But she can't talk—hers is ten times worse."

"It's neat," you say. "But not serial-killer neat. If I were a graphologist, I would give you the all clear."

"Graphologist?"

"A handwriting expert. I would write in my report, 'not a murderer.'"

"Well, that's a relief," Steve says. "I try to keep the murdering to a minimum."

You hum and finish your lemonade in one gulp.

“Thank you for not poisoning me."

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Steve replies through a smile. 

His smile makes you nervous. A good nervous, though, like you're about to sled down a big hill. 

You push yourself off the stool. Steve gets up with you and opens the sliding glass door for you.

“A very stalwart knight,” you say, and walk over to where your flip flops are.

You throw them back over the gate. They land with a clack on the sidewalk.

You find your footholds on the gate and turn to look at Steve.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve Harrington. Don’t fight any monsters by yourself.”

“Whoa, hang on!” He jogs over and lightly touches your arm. It sears your skin like you've been kissed by the sun himself. “I’ll unlock the gate. You don’t need to… climb again.”

Steve pulls the latch next to you. The gate creaks open. You hop off and walk through. 

Steve leans against the gate, elbow bent. His bicep bulges. You've never been this close to a shirtless boy. Your stomach flips. 

“Are you sure you know where Debbie lives?” he asks.

Your eyes dart from his chest to his face. 

“Yes.”

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t exactly find it the first time.”

“Second time’s the charm,” you say.

“I thought it was the third time.”

“No. Three’s bad luck, remember?”

Steve runs his tongue under his molars, once again staring at you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You slip into your sandals while he figures you out.

“Well, um. You can come back if you get lost. Or you need help. Or you wanna look for rocks."

You tilt your head. “You’d look for rocks with me?”

“I don’t know how helpful I’d be—all rocks look the same to me. My friends would probably be better at it than me. But, yeah, I would.”

“Okay. Thank you for your hospitality.”

He grins. “Sure thing.”

You take his hand and shake it. It’s warm and slightly calloused. You wonder if he holds girls’ hands often.

"I hope Robin finds your house," you say. "Goodbye, Steve Harrington."

Then you go.

You do find Debbie’s house on the second try. You hide your Sharpie'd arm behind your back when you enter. Debbie doesn’t ask why you’re late. Brett doesn’t acknowledge you, and you wonder how you mistook Steve for his brother. 

“There’s lemonade,” Debbie says as she heads in, Brett at her heels.

You don’t drink any. You know it won’t be the right amount of sour. 

Movies are better in the summer. This is a fact you've learned to accept. 

There's no dread of the cold after you finish a movie in the summer. The tape ends and you can go outside and still love the real world. 

Sorry, we're on a break! the sign on the store window reads in loopy script. You sit on the hot curb in front of Family Video, your yellow shorts bunched around your thighs. Sweat sticks to the back of your neck, and you drag a hand across, then wipe your fingers on your shirt. 

From here, you can just see the cement-filled cracks in the asphalt, where the earthquake split the main road two years ago. Because of the cracks, the bus stops three blocks from the plaza, so you'd walked three blocks in the heat. 

You hadn't been lying to Steve, though. You really don't mind the walk. 

Beads of sweat drip down your forehead. One slips into your eye and burns. You make a fist and press it into your eyelid.

Okay. Maybe you mind a little.

"Hey, neighbor!"

You look up, squinting through the sun. Lucas Sinclair waves at you. You wave back. A girl with two red braids is next to him. 

"Hi, Lucas," you say, standing as they approach you on the curb. 

"This is my girlfriend, Max," he introduces proudly. 

"My congratulations. Getting a girlfriend is no easy feat."

Max studies you for a moment. "I think I should get the credit, considering I said yes." 

"Undoubtedly," you say. 

"Are you his neighbor?" she asks. 

"Yes. Lucas is an outstanding neighbor. You should be very proud of him." 

"I believe it," says Max. 

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks. 

"Lots of things," you say. "Breathing, digesting. But presently, I'm waiting for the video store to reopen. I want to rent The Princess Bride.”

Max snorts. "Good luck with that. Those two take five hour lunch breaks now, ever since Keith moved away. It's barely a business anymore."

"There must be a lot of courses in their lunch," you muse. 

"Yeah… uh, we're going to get ice cream. Wanna join?" asks Lucas.

"Okay." You turn to Max. "Will my presence impede your special plans?"

Max squints. "Special plans? Like what?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you've written Lucas a series of sonnets to profess your love."

"A series of what?"

"Poems."

"Love poems are corny," she says. 

You wonder if Steve would agree. 

"Sometimes corny things are good. When they come from the right person," you say. 

Max acquiesces with a hum. 

"No love poems today," she says. "You should join us."

So you follow a couple steps behind them to the Baskin-Robbins down the block. 

The AC whooshes as you step inside, drying your sweat to your forehead. 

“Wow,” Max says with a scoff. “It’s like Starcourt all over again.”

You follow her gaze and spot Steve. 

Oh. Steve.

He's in a green Family Video vest. A girl sits across from him, wearing a matching vest. She has cropped hair and a bandaid on one knee. 

“Hey, losers!” Max calls. “This isn’t a lunch break.”

The girl flips her off. “The sign says we’re taking a break. It doesn’t specify how long of a break.”

Lucas orders a scoop of strawberry ice cream for himself and a scoop of cookies and cream for Max. 

“Yeah, plus, we’ve had a grand total of one customer today,” Steve adds.

“Well, you would’ve had two if you hadn’t been here on your seventeen hour break,” Max shoots back.

He scoffs. “Oh, really? Who?”

“Can I get one scoop of rocky road ice cream with oreo crumble and gummy worms in a cup?” you ask the cashier. 

She goes to scoop the ice cream. Max proudly points at you. 

“Her,” she says with a smirk. “She wanted to rent The Princess Bride, and now she’s not gonna be a paying customer ‘cause you two are lazy.”

“I would still be a paying customer,” you say.

Max shakes her head at you.

“I’m trying to make a point,” she whispers.

“Oh. You’re doing great."

“Your total is three twenty-four,” the cashier says, sticking a spoon into your cup. 

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor draws your attention. Steve is up, trying to free his leg from under the table. He finally wiggles free and jogs to the counter, wallet in hand.

"Hi,” he says. "I can pay." 

“But I have money,” you say, brows knitting.

“No, I know. I—now you can save your money. Do you–do you mind if I pay for you?”

“Will I have to pay you back?” you ask.

“Oh my God,” the cashier mutters under her breath.

You shrink at her tone. You've missed something, evidently. You have no clue what. 

Steve glances at her, mouth pinching. 

“No,” he says gently, turning back to you. “You don’t have to pay me back. It’s a gesture. As a friend.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Steve gives her the money. You take your ice cream. 

“Smooth,” you hear Max say to Steve. He bumps her arm with his elbow.

Steve pulls a chair from another table for you. You all sit down.

"This is, uh…" Steve trails off, turning to you. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"You kept calling her Buttercup," the girl says. 

Steve whips his head around to hiss at her. 

"Robin." 

"She's my neighbor," Lucas says. 

"We know," Max tells him. 

"I don't." Robin raises her hand briefly, shooing Steve away. "I'm Robin Buckley."

"Hi, Robin. Watch out for moths," you say. 

She tilts her head and smiles. You look at Steve, who's already looking at you. 

"Princess Buttercup?" you ask. 

"Well." He rubs the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah, kinda. You mentioned The Princess Bride and, uh, I don’t know your name, so…”

You mull that over. 

"If I'm Buttercup, you must be Westley." 

Steve's eyes widen. "Uh…" 

Robin snickers. Max smirks. 

"Interesting shade of red you're turning, Westley," Robin says. 

"Shut—"

He kicks her chair leg. She yelps and shoves him in retaliation. Max rolls her eyes. 

"Have some class, will you?" she says. 

"I'm classy!" Steve insists. 

"Not anymore," Lucas says gravely. "Now you're a glorified babysitter." 

"Childcare is dutiful work," you say. 

Steve grins at you. Your stomach flutters.

“Is that a mud pie?” he asks. 

You nod. 

“Gummy worms?” 

You tilt your head. “How did you know?”

Steve chuckles. “Lucky guess.”

Across the table, the others argue about the classiest ice cream flavors.

“It’s obviously mango sorbet.”

“Sorbet isn’t ice cream!”

“Are they your kids?” you ask.

Steve leans in so you can talk in his ear. His arm is on the back of your chair. If you shift the slightest inch, you’d feel him.

“Minus Robin. Though, sometimes…” He rolls his eyes playfully. “But, um, yeah. Two of them.”

“How many kids do you have?” you ask.

“Let’s see…” Steve counts on his fingers. “Six?”

“Wow. You must be some babysitter.”

“I’m alright.”

You lean in. Steve blinks.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You have an eyelash.” 

You swipe the hair off his cheek and hold your finger in front of his mouth.

“You have to make a wish.”

Steve’s eyes slide to you. He gently holds your hand in place. Your heart beats faster.

“‘Kay.” He blows the eyelash away, but doesn't release your hand. “Let’s see if it comes true.”

The numbers stare at you. Taunt you, really.

You practically have them memorized. You’d written them thirty times on a piece of notebook paper. Then you’d shoved that under your bed. 

Now you have it taped to your dresser mirror. 

You wish you could talk to Joan about it, but she’s bathing in the sink after an unfortunate encounter with a paint can. 

The Sharpie is gone from your arm, has been gone for several days now. But if you concentrate, you can see its silhouette on your skin. 

You get up and peel the paper off the mirror. Then you go down the hall to your phone. 

Carefully, you dial, making sure not to press any wrong buttons. 

The phone rings. You rock on your toes.

“Hello?” Steve says.

You freeze. 

“Hellooo…?”

“Hi,” you finally say. “It’s Buttercup.”

“Oh!” He sounds so happy. “Hey! Hey, how are you?”

“Good.” You chew on a cuticle. “It’s Saturday.”

“Oh, right! Did you wanna go rollerblading?”

Relief floods you. He remembers.

“Yes. If you’re planning it.”

“I haven’t talked to the kids, but I’m sure they’d be down.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I can pick you up in twenty?"

“I can walk.”

“C’mon, in the sun? You live on the same street as Lucas anyway, don’t worry about it.”

“Well.” You twirl the telephone cord around your finger so tightly, it threatens to cut off your circulation. “Okay… if it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Steve promises. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

You hang up and run to your room to dig for your skates. They’re stuffed under your bed next to a mini gumball machine. You shove two green gumballs in your mouth and race to the bathroom to check on Joan, nearly slipping on the wood.

“I’m going out, Joan. I think he might… he might like me.” You crunch on the gumball shells and shudder. “What a terrifying thought.”

You pull out the drain stopper and set Joan on a washcloth to dry. Then you go down the hall to put on your sneakers. 

Steve arrives five minutes early. You only know that because you spend the whole time watching the road from your curtained window. You shake your hands out, overwhelmed with nerves. 

It’s just a boy. He’s only a boy. 

The two of you meet halfway. Steve jogs backwards, unusually skillful, and opens the passenger door for you.

“Hey. Does Joan want to come?” Steve asks. 

You shake your head. “She’s having a spa day. It’s just me.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you,” he says, sweet and earnest. 

You duck inside the car and shake your hands a little, trying to fend off the returning nerves. Just a boy.

“So, that’s El,” Steve says as he gets into the driver’s seat, pointing to a girl with short curls. “And you know Max and Lucas.”

Max nods at you with a smile. Lucas waves.

“Hi, El,” you say. ��Cool hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “I like your skates.”

“I found them at a yard sale. You can find anything in a yard.”

"Okay," Steve says. "Everybody buckled?" 

“Yes, Mom,” Max mumbles. 

Steve catches your gaze and rolls his eyes. You smile.

Briefly, you worry you’ll have to fill the silence and talk about yourself, like people expect you to. But Steve and the kids hold conversation easily. They talk about anything and everything. 

They're more energetic than you're used to; Debbie always prefers it to be quiet. 

But you don't mind it. You don’t feel lonely like you do when you’re with Debbie.

“Alright, please stay within this area,” Steve says when he parks and everyone gets out. “Within—”

“Shouting distance!” Max yells. “Yeah, we know!”

The park isn't crowded. Most of the paths are clear, so skating will be no problem. 

Max gets out two skateboards from the trunk. 

“Max is going to teach me how to do an ollie,” El informs you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you say. “I want to master my yard skates.”

She nods and follows the others to the small skate park on the other side of the trees. 

You bring your skates to a bench and sit, lacing them up your feet. Steve is a few feet away, swinging his arms slightly.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” you ask.

“Oh, uh, no. I brought my own skates… I thought maybe we could skate together, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, I would like that,” you say. 

Steve beams. “Alright, cool. I’ll go get mine.”

You stand, about to take a step forward—and immediately slip.

Steve reacts instantly, lunging to catch you. One hand grabs your elbow, the other on your stomach. You squeal and cling to his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping you stand upright.

“I’m okay,” you say, breath caught in your throat.

You take a step but your foot wobbles. Steve grabs you again. You don’t try to take another step.

“I thought skating would be intuitive,” you say, rolling one skate to test.

“What?” 

You look up. Steve’s face is inches from yours. His hair is golden in the sunshine. His eyes lock on your own; his focus sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

“You know, like how babies are able to swim for the first six months of their lives?”

“Uh…” Steve tilts his head. “No?”

“Oh. Because they were in the womb, they have that ability. ‘Cause they float around in there for nine months, you know? But then they lose it. That’s why we have to learn how to swim.”

“Wow. That’s a cool fact.”

Nobody ever thinks your facts are cool. But Steve does.

“Well, I thought skating would be similar,” you say. “I’ve watched other people skate, so I thought I’d just… do it. I guess I lost that at six months too.”

Steve’s smiling. It’s a gentle smile, though. Not a teasing smile. 

“I see,” he says. “I’m sorry for your disappointment.”

“It’s alright. Life is far more than disappointment. No use getting hung up on it.”

“Do you want me to teach you how to skate?” he asks. “I promise I’m good at it. Coach Collins said I could’ve seriously pursued it.”

“So skating for you is like avoiding death for Westley,” you say.

“Actually, I’m pretty good at avoiding death too,” Steve says. “And making grilled cheeses.”

“Triple threat.”

He ducks his head with a laugh, and you feel the warmth of it flow through your own body.

“Sure. Can’t make lemonade for shit, though.”

“I think your lemonade is perfect, Steve Harrington.”

His cheeks are scarlet again. It’s quickly becoming your favorite color.

“I would like it if you taught me,” you say.

“Okay. I’ll get my skates after you get the hang of it. Put your hand on my arm, right here.”

Steve pats his forearm. Carefully, you do as he says. 

“I’m nervous,” you confess. 

“I got you,” Steve says, cheek brushing your head. “I won’t let you fall, Buttercup.”

Saint Aloysius’ parking lot has the best rocks. 

You've never told anybody as much because you imagine the lot would get busy, and you like it empty.

Today, you're searching for a brother for Joan. Ever since that tragic day at Macinaw Island, Joan's been very lonely. It‘s hard being a sisterless sister. 

Joan is smooth and round, so you look for an equally smooth and round brother. Commonality is important. 

Your knees hurt from squatting, so you sit. The rocks poke your butt. 

You hear a car rolling up the hill, engine a soft purr. You stop and turn. 

The car is maroon and shiny, with only a couple slight scratches you can't notice unless you look really hard. You don't recognize the license plate, although you have yet to start your record of Hawkins plates. 

It putters to a stop in front of Giovanni's Bakery across the street. The car doors open. 

"I'm losing my edge, Robs! I made a damn fool of myself. I can't even—"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like we're glossing over the fact that you don't even know this girl. And what she did was technically trespassing."

"Do you know her name?" another voice pipes up. 

"No, Dustin, I don't know her name. I don't even know if she lives in Hawkins!"

Their voices disappear as they go inside the bakery. You find Joan a brother, Jack, and Jack finds a wife named Gwen. Gwen isn't smooth and round; she's sharp-edged and will be harder to clean, but she's a muted salmon color and you think she's pretty. You hope Jack will find her pretty too.

As you dig through the pile of rocks, your finger catches on the edge of a broken bottle. It slices your finger. Blood swells immediately. 

You put your new rocks in your plastic red pail with your other hand. Then you stand, joints popping as you do so. You stick your ribs out and bend your spine in a stretch. 

You cross the street to the bakery, pail in hand. The bell jingles as you enter. You hum the ding-dong under your breath. 

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asks.

"Hello. Can I have five baci di dama and five of the raspberry sandwich cookies?"

He goes to the display case with a paper bag. You rest your elbows on the counter, pail handles over your arm. 

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you have a bandaid? I'm bleeding."

The man purses his lips. "No bandaid, sorry."

"That's okay. Just the cookies, then." 

"Buttercup?"

You turn. Steve stands before you, wearing his Family Video vest. Robin is beside him, her hair piled into a windblown bun on her head. Another boy, shorter than both, younger, is with them. He waves at you, curls bouncing. 

You wave back. Robin squeals.

"Oh my God, what happened to your finger?" she asks, horrified. 

"There was a broken bottle in the parking lot."

"Jesus," Steve says. He takes your hand and inspects it. He's so close and warm. All you can do is stare at the freckles on his neck. 

“Why were you in the parking lot?” he asks.

“I was looking for rocks. This is the best rock spot in all of Hawkins. Well, after Lover’s Lake. But the pH has been abnormally high there. Probably because of the monsters. So I came here.”

"Hi, I'm Dustin," the boy introduces. “Is your finger okay?”

"Hi, Dustin. I think I’ll survive,” you say. “Dustin means brave warrior in Norse.”

Dustin beams. “Yup. I was named after my grandfather. He served in World War Two.”

"Names are important,” you say. “Joan agonized for days deciding what I should call her. Eventually, I decided for her. A name says a lot about a person. Steve has a warrior and good luck at his side."

"Yep, Steve-o here is pretty blessed to have us. And," he gestures to you, "You are?"

"Hungry," you say, taking your bag of cookies with your free hand. 

The bag crinkles as you open it. You hold it out to Steve. 

"Do you want one? I promise they’re blood-free.”

"Uh…” He glances at your hand. “Are you sure your finger is okay?”

“She’s a trooper. Survived ink poisoning and everything.” You wave the bag again. “Cookie?” 

Steve takes a baci di dama out and pops it into his mouth. He hums as he chews, nodding. 

"'S good," he says after he swallows.

"Baci di dama means lady's kisses in Italian," you say. 

His cheeks turn pink again. 

"You should drink more water," you add. "You turn pink easily."

Robin snorts. Steve holds a hand to his cheek. 

"Uh, thanks."

“You’re welcome. Robin, would you like a cookie?" 

"No, thanks,” she says. “I'm picking up a tiramisu for my mom's birthday."

"I want a cookie!" Dustin says. 

"Dude," Steve hisses. 

You hold the bag open to Dustin. He takes a raspberry sandwich cookie. 

"So," Dustin says, mouth full. "Are you Steve’s girlfriend or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you say.

“Du-ude!” Steve says too loudly, voice climbing in pitch.

“What? You talk about her all the freakin’ time. I needed to know.”

You look at Steve. He rubs the back of his neck and half-smiles.  

“Anyway,” continues Dustin. “How do you know Steve?”

"I climbed over his gate by accident on the hottest day of May,” you say.

"By accident?" 

"Yes. All the gates in Loch Nora look the same. Except Steve's gate has climbing ivy and little red flowers. It's much nicer than the other houses. It looks like a person lives there. I mistook it for Debbie's gate." 

Robin tilts her head at you. You don't care what Steve says; she's a one hundred percent bonafide bird. 

Dustin points to your pail, crumbs all over his chin. "Why do you have rocks?"

"They're for Joan," you say.

"Joan? Is she your friend?"

"She's more like my confidante. She doesn't talk much, so I think it'd be presumptuous of me to call her a friend when I have no idea where we stand." 

"Navigating friendships can be hard," Steve offers. 

"Yes," you say. "They can be."

"Being straightforward can help a lot," he continues. "It, uh, at least helped me. That way the other person knows what you mean. No room for miscommunication."

You nod. "That's good advice. I'll have to try that with Joan. Sometimes she can be kind of hard-headed."

You roll up your bag of cookies and reposition your pail on your arm so the metal doesn't dig into your skin. 

"It was nice to meet you, Dustin," you say. "Goodbye, Steve and Robin."

"Wait!"

Steve holds the door for you and follows you out. He still smells sweet, like pineapple, and also a little woody. He touches the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity down your spine.

"I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me wrap your cut."

"Oh." You'd forgotten about it. "Okay."

You follow Steve to his car. He pops the trunk and rummages. You spot a bat with nails. 

"Very inventive," you say, pointing at the bat. 

Steve laughs shyly. "Yeah, uh, the monsters."

"I definitely wouldn't want to fight you if I were a multi-dimensional monster."

He smiles and takes out a small spray bottle of disinfectant. 

"This is gonna sting, okay? But we need to make sure nothing gets infected."

"An infection would be unfortunate," you say. "I'm quite attached to this finger." 

He sprays and cleans your finger. You wince and Steve squeezes your wrist in apology. Then he pulls out bandaids. 

"Any preference? I have rainbow, Star Wars, 'cause they're all a bunch of nerds, cats… oh, I have flowers! ‘Cause you’re, uh, Buttercup, you know?" 

"Flowers," you say, because Steve's so excited about it. 

He nods and opens the bandaid. You hold out your finger and Steve carefully wraps it. He rubs your knuckle. 

"Thank you," you say. 

"You're welcome. Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

He closes the trunk, swinging his keys on his finger. 

"Sorry if that was awkward, by the way," he says. "Dustin, I mean. He can be… blunt." 

"It wasn't awkward."

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” you say. “I’m happy you tell people about me. I tell Joan about you all the time.”

"Oh." He nods. "That—that’s good. So… we’re both… uh—”  

"Do you want another lady's kiss?"

"What? Oh—" Steve clears his throat. "N-no, that's okay. Thanks."

You take out a raspberry cookie and bite into it. 

"Your hair has product," you observe. 

"Yeah. No secrets, though."

"Everybody's hair has secrets."

"Even yours?" he asks. 

"Especially mine." 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. You open your bag and take out another cookie. He looks like he's trying to find the right words to say. You don't mind waiting. 

"Hey, do you like barbecue?" he asks. 

"I like it as well as anybody else."  

"Well, um, I'm having a barbecue this Saturday. Lucas won a big championship game and so we're celebrating his win."

"That's nice," you say. "Congratulations to Lucas."

"Yeah! So, um, did you maybe want to come too? It'll be at my house. You could bring a friend if you wanted. Like Joan."

"Joan is a vegetarian," you say. "But I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

Steve smiles. He has such a pretty smile. 

"We're ordering pizza too, so Joan can have some of that."

"You're a very thoughtful host.”

Then you have a terrible thought. But you have to ask it because if you don't, you might be breaking some kind of invisible expectation. You do that a lot. 

"Does Debbie have to come?" you ask. 

Steve blinks. "Uh, no? It's not a requirement."

"Some people ask me to parties because they want Debbie to come." 

Steve frowns. "That's rude. I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. What time does the barbecue begin?"

"You can stop by anytime. But we'll probably start eating around six."

You nod. "Joan and I will be there at five thirty."

Steve's answering grin is blinding. He must be really excited to meet Joan. You get it; Joan's the life of any party she attends. 

"Great, that's great. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Steve," you say. 

"Bye," he answers like he's out of breath. 

Even the way he breathes is pretty.

Every month, Miles Stanwick throws a party. 

Miles is a celebrity in Hawkins, his father being a state senator, and Miles is, according to a drunk Debbie, “the Gatsby to her Daisy.”

You're pretty sure Debbie hasn't read the book. Or maybe she's a living tragedy. Either is possible. 

It had been just you two in her room, without the Other Debbie she pretends to be to impress the people of Loch Nora, when she'd told you what it meant to be in love. 

"You just know," she'd said, her breath reeking of tequila.

You'd turned your head. Tequila made your nose itch. 

"But you love Brett," you'd said. 

"Brett is who I'll marry," she'd corrected. She’d sounded so sad. "Miles is all I've got."

Then she'd thrown up all over her carpet. You'd helped her into bed and made a mental note to find her a friend like Joan to keep her company, for when you weren't around. 

You don't like parties. They're loud and smelly and usually filled with people you don't like or don't know. And at a party, people you don't like and people you don't know are one and the same. 

You would leave, but Debbie is your ride tonight. So you're stuck here until midnight, maybe even later. 

Someone plugs in a karaoke machine and that gets most of the party's attention. The music is horribly loud and is the kind that’s just a lot of synthesizer. 

A guy jumps onto the Stanwicks' coffee table and knocks over the potpourri dish. Dried petals and orange peels scatter across the carpet. 

Debbie appears in front of you, a red Solo cup in her hand. 

"What did I bring you here for?" she asks, mouth curled. "To slump on the couch?"

"No one here wants to talk," you say. 

Debbie rolls her eyes. "Parties aren't for talking. They're for drinking and making out. Someone's rolling a blunt in the den. Go suck on that, will you?"

The people in Loch Nora are so good at making you feel two inches tall. You wish you'd brought Joan. She'd know what to do. 

You've tried alcohol before. Champagne at a wedding. A sip of rum from the Wellermans' liquor cabinet, back when Debbie wasn't so caught up in being just like everyone else. 

Maybe it's your fault, too. Maybe you're too good at standing out. 

You go to the kitchen. It's already trashed. You step over a spill on the floor. Then you turn around and lay down some paper towels so no one will slip. 

There are various bottles of strong liquor strewn across the counters. You decide to try the punch and fill your cup to the top. You sniff it and your nose wrinkles at the whiff of alcohol. 

You so badly want to have fun. You want to know what makes all of this worth it. You want your friendship with Debbie to be worth it. 

You down the punch in one go. It makes you cough and you scramble for water at the sink. You wonder if the punch is poisoned. 

You wobble out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, head already woozy. A girl stands with a drink, one arm folded. 

"Where's Debbie?" you ask. The girl winces and steps away from you. 

"She went with Miles and some other people to the lake."

Your eyes widen. "No, they can't. There's monsters."

She looks at you like you might be an insect splattered on her dashboard. 

"You're Debbie's weird friend, aren't you?"

Weird doesn't make you feel good, like Steve calling you strange did. Weird makes you feel like when a boy in sixth grade stepped on your heels while going up the stairs because he thought it was funny. 

"Debbie would've told me," you say. 

The girl shrugs. "Guess she ditched you. She can't score with Miles if you're killing the vibe." 

Weird tastes like poison in your mouth. 

"Debbie was my ride," you say, but she’s already gone.

Your head aches. You try to think on what to do next. It's nearly midnight. No one is awake, and you have no idea how to call a cab. 

You find the Stanwicks' phone in the hall and dial the only number you know, besides your own, and the local pizzeria. 

"Hello?" 

You lean against the wall, phone in both hands. 

"Uh, hello? Who is this?" 

"H-hi, Westley." Your voice cracks. 

"Hey," Steve says, unbearably gentle. "My favorite rock girl. Jesus, it's… midnight."  

"I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, no, it's alright. I'm just—is everything okay? Are you okay?" 

"Debbie ditched me."

Silence. For a moment, you panic that the line's dropped.

"Steve?"

"Where are you?" 

"I'm, um, at Miles Stanwick's. The address is… well, I don't remember, but I'll go outside and look for the house number—"

"I know it," Steve says. "Stay right there. I'm coming to get you. Don't drink any more."

Your lip wobbles. "'Kay."

"It's okay," he soothes. "Drink some water. Don't take anything from anybody." 

"I just wanted to be fun," you blurt. 

"You are fun, Buttercup. Way more fun than anybody at that house, I guarantee it. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Steve," you say, no longer feeling so small. 

You hang up and go to the kitchen to get more water from the sink. Then you return to the hallway and sit, back against the wall, knees tucked into your chest. 

You doze, lids heavy from the alcohol. The next thing you know are two hands on your arms. 

You jolt awake. One hand cradles the back of your head so you don't thump it against the wall. 

"Hey, hey." Steve kneels in front of you. He brushes your cheek with a cool knuckle. "It's me, it's Steve. Are you okay?"

His hands are cool against your overheated skin. He smells like lemon shampoo. 

"My knight," you say. 

"I thought Westley was a pirate."

“He was only pretending." 

You let Steve ease you up. His car keys dig into your hip.

"Ow," you say dazedly. 

"What? What hurts?"

"Keys."

"Oh." Steve shifts you to his opposite side, hand on your back. "Sorry, honey." 

"Honey never spoils," you say. "Did you know that? You could dig up honey from a tomb that's thousands of years old and as long as it was stored in an airtight container, it's good to eat."

"I love that you know that." 

"Do you really?" 

"I really do," Steve says. "C’mon, let's get you home." 

Outside, the moon is a dot of cream in the purple sky. The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are also dark. 

"I'm sorry for calling you so late," you say. 

"Don't be. I'm glad you called me. These parties can get out of hand."

"Debbie left. She went to Lover's Lake with Miles—"

The panic returns, flooding your body. You squirm and Steve tries to keep you steady. 

"Whoa, what's—"

"The monsters! There's monsters down there, Steve. I don't like Miles, but I don't want him to be eaten!"

"No, no, no more monsters," Steve assures you. "They can't come through there anymore."

You still. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Steve leans in and pulls the seat belt over you.

"Comfy?" he asks. 

"I like you so much, Steve Harrington."

It's too dark to tell, but you suspect he's got another case of sunstroke. 

"I, um, like you too, Buttercup. You're really cool."

"Me?" You wave your hand. "No."

"Really," he insists. "You are. The coolest."

If you were Debbie, if you weren't weird in the wrong way, if you didn't go to parties to talk, and if you fit a million other criteria you never will, Steve would kiss you right now. Or maybe you'd kiss him. 

But you don't know how to go about that. You don't think it's your right to do such a thing. 

So Steve shuts the door and walks around to the driver's seat. You stare at your flower bandaid.

"Four three's," Steve says as he turns the ignition. 

You turn your head. "Hmm?"

"The house number. Four three's. That's gotta be, like, astronomically bad luck, right?"

"Without a doubt."

Except you're here with Steve Harrington, and he calls you honey and thinks you're cool. And that doesn't seem like bad luck at all. 

"I'm going to a barbecue," you call out. 

There's no reply. You close the door behind you.

Joan sits in your pocket. You've tied a purple ribbon around her head, right above her googly eyes. You don't know what the dress code is for a barbecue, but you hope she's not underdressed.

You haven’t spoken to Steve since Miles’ party. You’re not sure what you should say, and you can’t bear the thought of calling him to hear silence. 

Even if he doesn’t like you the way you like him, you hope he’ll still be friends with you. Steve and his kids have grown on you. You don’t know if you can go back to who you were before the hottest day of May. 

“Material Girl” plays from inside Steve's backyard. You mouth the words as you fling your flip flops over the gate. 

"What the fuck?" someone says from the other side. 

You climb the gate and shimmy down. It's a good thing you're wearing shorts under your dress.

A boy, lanky and tall but probably Lucas's age, holds one of your flip flops. He stares at you and shakes the shoe. 

"Is this yours?"

"Both of them are," you say. "Does Steve like Madonna?"

He grimaces. "Unfortunately."

"Cool."

You spot Steve sitting on one of the deck chairs with Robin and a boy your age with big, curly hair and a Led Zeppelin shirt with cropped sleeves. 

"Venus" plays next and you wobble in time with the music as you walk over to Steve. 

"Her weapons were her crystal eyes," you whisper. The pavement is warm under your toes. 

"Making every man mad." 

Steve turns just as you reach him. He stands so fast he shakes the chair. 

"Hey!" he says. He sounds out of breath again. "Hey, you came."

"You invited me," you say. 

"Yeah, yes." Steve nods. "I did. I'm glad you're here."

"You play good music."

"Ha!" Steve whips his head to look at the curly haired boy. "Suck it, Munson."

"She's obviously biased." 

"Munson," you say. "Eddie Munson?"

Eddie freezes under your gaze. Robin and Steve glance at you. 

"Yeah, uh, that's me." Eddie smiles weakly. "Look, you might've heard some stuff abou—"

"You helped fight the monsters," you interrupt. "You're very brave." 

Eddie's eyes widen. "I—"

"Most people just like to ignore monsters. It takes a really good person to fight them." You turn to Steve. "Do you have orange Fanta?" 

"Yeah, sure. I'll get you a can. Feel free to sit… where are your shoes?"

You point behind you. "Your bodyguard had to screen them after I climbed your gate. You have very tight security."

"After you climbed my… wait, Mike? God, I’m sorry about him. I'll get your shoes back."

"It's okay. Flip flops are dangerous weapons. It's only a matter of time before the airport bans them." 

Steve tilts his head, eyes warm. "Right. I'll be back. That's Eddie and Robin… you know them."

"I know their names, and that's about all you can know about anybody."

Eddie giggles. You look at him. He doesn't seem to be laughing at you, so you sit where Steve was sitting, across from Eddie's chair. You point at his shirt. 

"I like Kashmir."

"Thank God! Somebody with decent tastes."

"I'll listen to anything," you say. "It's important to be a good listener."

Eddie grins. "Words of the wise."

"Where's Joan?" Robin asks. 

"Right here." You take Joan out of your pocket and set her down on the edge of the pool chair. 

"Sick," Eddie says.

You nod. "The ribbon was my pick."

"I like it," Robin says. 

"Thank you."

Steve returns with an orange Fanta for you and a root beer for Robin. 

Robin points to Joan. "Steve, this is the famous Joan we've heard so much about."

"That's a rock," says Steve. 

"Yep."

"Oh." He nods in understanding. "Joan is your pet rock?"

"Confidante," you correct. "’Pet’ is demeaning."

"Got it. And was Joan's sister also your confidante?"

"No. Joan's sister didn't like me much. She thought I was a bad influence on Joan. But we shouldn't talk about it now. Joan gets very sad when I bring it up."

You open your can. The carbonation hisses. It's itchy and sweet on your tongue. 

"I like your hair," you say. "It's fluffy. Like it was on the hottest day of May."

Steve pushes a couple strands behind his ear.

"Thanks. The gel is too much on hot days like these. Weighs me down."

"At least you won't float away." You look at Eddie. "Is your hair full of secrets too?"

Eddie ruffles his hair. "Not as many as Steve's, but I've got a couple in here. 'S what gives my curls volume." 

"Hm. Just as I suspected," you say. 

"Ste-eve!" Dustin whines from across the yard. "You promised burgers!"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You'd think he's never been fed in his life."

Eddie pats his shoulder. "You've got this, Harrington."

"Oh, no. You wanna eat, you've gotta earn your keep. Come on."

Eddie groans, flinging himself off the chair. "Save me, Buckley!"

"Already did that," she says, pulling her sunglasses onto her eyes. "Never again." 

"You should tie up your hair so it doesn't catch fire," you suggest. 

"Well, at least somebody cares about me," Eddie declares, pulling his hair into a ponytail. 

Steve turns to you and smiles softly. 

"Are you hungry? You can have the first pick of the burgers."

"Won't Dustin be annoyed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kid could use some manners. Besides, pretty girls always get the first pick. It's the law." 

You follow Steve and Eddie to the grill, pretty girl echoing in your brain the whole time. 

Eddie's hair doesn't catch on fire and Steve makes you a perfect burger. The sun sparkles on the pool surface. The kids come out to eat and, predictably, Dustin complains about not getting the first burger.

"Not fair. Just 'cause she's your girlfriend," he mumbles as he goes off to search for the mustard. 

You check to see if Steve had heard the comment. He doesn't seem to have; you can't decide if you're relieved or not. 

The chairs are all taken by the time you finish fixing up your burger. Steve stands immediately as you approach.

“Here, take my seat,” he says.

“We can share,” you offer.

Steve lets you take the back of the chair, settling at the foot. “You Make My Dreams Come True” plays on the speakers. 

“Whoever made this mixtape is a genius,” you announce.

“You like it?” says Steve. “I actually made this one. Robin and Eddie think my taste sucks, but—”

“It’s spectacular.”

He hums, ducking his head shyly. “Well, speaking of spectacular: I made more lemonade, if you want to test it before I unleash it upon the masses.”

“I’ll happily drink your lemonade,” you say. “It’ll build my iocane tolerance.”

Steve grins. “I rented The Princess Bride, by the way. I know you meant to get it a few weeks ago. We can watch it tonight, if you want.”

“You remembered I wanted to watch it,” you say.

He nods. “Well, uh, yeah. Do you still want to? If you don’t, I can—”

“I do,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve stands, hand outstretched so you’ll give him your empty plate. “I’m going inside. Anybody want anything?”

“Doritos!” Robin shouts.

“Napkins, please,” El says.

“Cherry Coke!” Mike calls.

“Beer!” Eddie whoops.

“Doritos, napkins, got it. The cooler is right there, Wheeler, and are you kidding, Eddie? No drinking by the pool. Have we not learned our lesson from the last four years?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ve learned anything, Steven.”

“Can you bring us popsicles?” Max asks. “Lemon and grape.”

“Ooh, popsicles sound good,” says Robin. “Bring me one too. Fruit punch.”

Steve sighs, lifting his arms.

“Two hands, guys. Only got two.”

“I can help,” you offer.

“Now that’s a great idea,” Robin says. “The two of you in the kitchen, alone. Really brilliant, don’t you think, Steve?”

Steve glares at her. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen. It looks exactly like the last time you were here, except for the food. Steve opens the freezer and digs through the box of popsicles. Then he takes the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and sets it on the counter.

“Can you get the Doritos?” he asks. “They’re up there.”

You open a shelf over the stove. The chips are at the very top. You try jumping; all that does is bang your ribs into the counter.

"Whoa, whoa.”

Steve’s hand rests on your back. Your stomach swoops. 

"Easy, Buttercup. I’ll get it, sorry ‘bout that."

You frown. "The Doritos have eluded me."

"They’re a tricky bunch," he says, reaching and successfully grabbing the chips.

"I knew you’d best me and succeed."

"Best you?" 

"Yes," you say. "Like in a duel."

Steve tilts his head, a tiny crinkle forming in the center of his brows. 

"Are we going to duel? Like Inigo and Westley?"

"Not if I can help it," you say. "I'm terrible with a sword."

"I would never try to sword fight you." 

"I appreciate that."

His hand slips from your back. You watch it fall to his side.

“Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” Steve says as he takes a glass out of the cupboard. “You can also take food home.”

You exhale through your nose and wiggle your fingers a little, trying to stave off the nerves. You wish Joan was in your pocket right now, but you left her on the deck chair. 

“Buttercup?” 

You look up. Steve has a glass of lemonade in one hand. The top button of his polo shirt is undone. Was it always undone? You can’t remember. 

Anyway, he’s beautiful. And you’re so damn strange.

“Yes, Westley?”

Steve smiles. You don’t think anyone has ever smiled at you as much as Steve does. 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He puts the glass in front of you. You glance at it, then back at him.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I won’t force you to drink my crappy lemonade if you don’t want to, y’know.”

“You called me strange,” you blurt. “When we first met.”

Steve’s eyes widen. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says softly. “But I won’t call you that anymore if you don’t like it.”

“No, I–I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But…”

He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not like Debbie,” you say. 

“I know.”

“I’ll probably never be like Debbie.”

“I much prefer you as yourself,” he says.

“Oh.”

You sip your lemonade. Your lips pucker but you smile all the same.

“Damn,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I really can’t nail that lemonade, huh?”

“It’s wonderful,” you whisper. 

He takes a step forward. You set the glass on the counter.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I would very much like that.”

Steve’s lips are slightly chapped. You taste like lemonade and he tastes like Coke and God, you like it so much.

You loop your arms around his neck like you’ve wanted to do for weeks. He returns in kind, both hands slipping to your waist. 

It’s not just a boy kissing you. It’s Steve.

The sliding glass door whooshes open and you jerk your head back in surprise. Max and Dustin trod in. 

Dustin shrieks. 

“Seriously? This is what was taking you so long?”

“If you were gonna do that, we would’ve gotten the popsicles ourselves,” Max says with a huff, grabbing the popsicles and chips from the counter. 

“Told ya they were making out!” comes Eddie’s voice from outside. “I warned you, kiddies!”

They clear out, with one last stink eye from Dustin. Steve shakes his head, nose pressed to your cheek.

“Again, very sorry about them.”

“They wanted to check in on their favorite babysitter,” you say.

Steve lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “I need a padlock or something.”

You hum and lean over to unwrap a popsicle. 

“Oh,” you say. “Three left.”

“Three popsicles?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well, that explains it. Astronomical bad luck, right?”

“Actually,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. “I think my theory was wrong.”

[conkers-thecosy]

Been a while since I last made a fic rec list, and I recently went through all the newer bagginshield works on AO3, so I wanted to share some of my favourites! These are all amazing, please go give them a read if you haven't already! 💛 These are all completed, but if anyone is interested I might also do a list of incomplete works in progress that I'm feral about as well!

~

"Green-Handed" by lotusOkid Post-BotFA, while Thorin, Fili, and Kili are slowly recovering from their wounds, Bilbo finds himself subject to a condition that hobbits might experience at a few very particular times in their lives, under very particular circumstances, none of which apply to him. Very confused (and somewhat embarrassed) he decides to keep it a secret during this delicate time in the mountain. This goes about as well as you might expect.

~

"The Burden of Choice" by @fantasyinallforms Thorin Oakenshield is the crown prince of one of the strongest kingdoms in Middle Earth, but in the last year, the kingdom has struggled to keep its place among the ruling powers of Middle Earth. Erebor was held under vicious siege by the dragon Smaug, who terrorised the land and wiped out the nearby human settlement of Dale. The hardship forces Erebor into a difficult position, creating no other choice but for King Thror to seek alliances with other kingdoms and races through the bonds of marriage. Will Thorin see this as his duty to his kingdom or take another path entirely?

~

"No Grave Can Hold My Body Down" by @chaoticangel666 Bilbo returns to The Shire after the Battle of the Five Armies. He might be going insane though, because why does the ghost of Thorin Oakenshield keep showing up when he least expects it? Follows the events from the end of The Hobbit until the end of The Lord of the Rings.

~

"Handsome Stranger" by kriegswaffel A handsome stranger arrives at Hobbiton, both reminding and distracting Bilbo Baggins from the upcoming negotiations between a Dwarven Envoy all the way from Erebor and the official-inoffical leadership of the Shire regarding trade. As he gets more wrapped up in matters, can he find something true and lasting with someone so different - and maybe entirely different from what he expected? Or will he get his heart broken again, at long last, having hoped where there was no hope, or even only betrayal?

~

"What's In A Name" by broken_pencils A short scene that takes place post-canon, in which Bilbo and Thorin discuss the uniquely hobbit custom of family surnames. ~ "And Watch Them Grown" by @sunnyrosewritesstuff Thorin survives his battle to find Bilbo laying unconscious in the snow. Unable to carry him down, Thorin leaves him with his ring on to get help. Only he doesn’t make it very far before collapsing. Waking in the healing tents, Thorin comes to realize no one made it back up to save Bilbo! ~ "The Kitchen Thief" by @mordellestories There are pests. At first, Thorin thought one of his assistants was stealing from him. And that may have been why he was a bit harsher on them than what was deemed necessary. But one by one, the workers were replaced only for the goods to keep vanishing into thin air. It was driving him to madness. And when Thorin wasn’t at peace, everyone knew it. So, it had to be pests, right? Pixies, brownies, rats, something was pilfering his hard work and it was happening more often as time went by. ~ "The things you see in the market." by GothicMama Krelven just wants to explore the market on his day off. But instead he gets thrown for multiple loops when he sees two extremely familiar faces.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hello! We loved what you did with our dev ask. Wanted to know if you would do Yan! Irep headcanons? I'm a little surprised that Dale got a request before irep.

💘ficto anon

Yandere!Irep x GN!Human!Reader

warnings: hickey or biting mentions!!

just realized how right you are about Dale having a yandere request before Irep,,, woah— half bullet & half drabble!! lil square man

I feel like he'd easily get attached to you on the first day. If you somehow check all the boxes that catch his attention, at least.

For example, buying him ice cream. Surprisingly, it's simple enough to get him to stay with you.

When he heard you say it was your treat, the first thing he thought of was karma. He had done something good for you, and now you were returning the favor. This type of positive thing never happens to him.

Even if he didn't like sweets, he wanted to know what would happen if you bought him ice cream. A simple action, but to him, it felt like you were making up for years of his social interactions.

He's an anti-fairy. His species is feared and avoided. Irep doesn't have many friends, really—he's the second fairy born in a thousand years.

His family, while they love each other dearly, often don't have as much quality time as the originals. They're probably too caught up in their evil schemes.

Having said that, he'd nonchalantly reveal that he's a fairy to you the second you take his heart.

You're so kind to him. It's new. It's nice. Even his parents don't offer this much kindness.

So, if you think Peri is deprived, imagine how much more deprived this guy is.

Irep loves praise. Call him handsome. Call him stylish. Call him better than Peri—he's folded.

He would do anything for you. Literally. Da Rules can't stop him. A stranger is talking to you without acknowledging him? Woah. Where'd they go?

Clingy to a fault. Irep would show you off to the world; he has no shame.

His parents are confused about why he's mingling with a human, but they're supportive nonetheless.

Loves to tease you. It's the most evil thing he can do to you (in plain sight).

Much like Peri, he'd love cuddles. It's a funny thought, but he'd often rest his flat head on your chest or lap. At least he's comfortable.

With fangs like his, he might playfully bite you. He'd love nothing more than to give you hickeys, but he would never leave marks on your skin—unless you ask nicely.

While he's certainly confident, filled with his ego, sometimes there's an inkling of doubt in the pit of his stomach. He's still an anti-fairy, and he would hate to see you go.

This is where his manipulative side can come into play. He’ll make sure you see him at his most vulnerable, making you feel guilty enough to avoid even considering leaving him.

He may be a bit rough around the edges, but Irep can genuinely be good support. After all, that's all he ever wanted: to be useful and to have something for himself.

Irep was disguised as a human. This was the closest he could get to Dev and Peri without getting caught.

The duo were currently inside an ice cream parlor, with Hazel as their company. Irep squinted his eyes. Oh, wait, his reverse parents were there too. Of course they were, being Hazel's godparents and all.

A sneaky smile crept across his face. He had an evil plan brewing in his mind, but first, a loophole must be discovered. Maybe they'll fight right there and then, allowing Irep to reach Dev again.

So, all he has to do is... wait.

Wait.

...Until Dev or Peri decide to separate.

It didn't seem like it was going to happen anytime soon. They were happily chatting, smiles on their faces. Hazel offered a spoonful of ice cream to Dev, who grumpily accepted anyway.

...

Finger after finger, impatient tapping fell on the table. Has it always taken this long? Man, it feels like he's wasting his eternal life just... stalking them.

In fact... He's been having this weird emotion for some time. Irep unknowingly goes deeper into a space of his mind. Has defeating Peri always been his goal in life? Well, obviously. He won't ever deny that. But is that all there is?

Anti-fairies are despised as villains, bringing bad luck and destruction, yet still, there is a delicate balance. Something, something... Ugh... It's such a hassle to think about. Maybe all the time he spent stalking and brooding alone finally got to him.

Still, isn't there anything else he can do?

Hazel and Dev eventually stood up and began to leave the parlor. It was time for Irep to follow them again, as usual.

The anti-fairy stood up and trailed behind them, his hands shoved into his pockets. Huffing, he couldn't push back the restless thoughts.

"Shoot—!"

Someone suddenly bumped into Irep, but with his quick reflexes, he caught the person before they fell to the ground.

He stared at you with widened eyes.

"I'm so," you fretted, hastily adjusting your position. With a crooked smile, you sheepishly patted his clothes to straighten them. "Sorry! Thanks for catching me."

Irep didn't know how to talk to a human. He had only ever dealt with them when necessary, and in those times they usually catch him in the worst mood possible.

Perhaps this was one of those times.

"No matter. It's fine, fellow human," he remarked, adjusting his sleeves. By now, his future godkid and Peri were already at the terminal.

"Um, okay... I can buy you ice cream if you'd like," you smiled. "As an apology. Oh, wait, unless you've already bought one!"

"Ah. I don't like sweets. I have to go— Wait, did you say it's your treat?"

[toavoidtherush]

the house as a haunting unto itself

kitty horrorshow, anatomy / phoebe bridgers, garden song / james wan, the conjuring / tracy k smith, ash / vc andrews, flowers in the attic / hollis brown thornton, 1986 / sylvia moreno garcia, mexican gothic / elias tigiser / dale bailey, the h word; bringing the horror home / danez smith / brian de palma, carrie / tori hamatani / leah horlick, ghost house / edward hopper, house by the railroad / mabel podcast / yellowjackets, the dollhouse / mark z danielewski, house of leaves / gillian flynn, sharp objects / thomas flint, haunted house / mike flannigan, the haunting of hill house / the duffer brothers, stranger things / joan tierney, why are you haunted? a survey / benjamin konig / richard siken, real estate.