#investigative journalism my ass

[news4dzhozhar]

[theostrophywife]

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

masterlist | chapters | playlist

🗡️ pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🗡️ song inspiration: the death of peace of mind by bad omens.

🗡️ author’s note: happy new year my darlings! buckle in because this series is going to be a wild ride. as always, special thanks and dedication to @writingsbychlo for helping me sort this series out while it was in its early form. now, without further ado. enjoy.

Nothing bad ever happened in Ashmore. 

Tucked in the outskirts of a quaint and idyllic East Coast town, Ashmore University was ranked as the sixth safest school in the nation.

Until the body was found. 

A malevolent fog marked that fateful September day, its shadowy tendrils snaking through the slumbering campus, its eerie talons curling over the ivy-covered brick buildings, covering the proud oak tree standing tall in the middle of the quad before eventually converging at the edge of the small collegiate town like a predator awaiting its prey. 

The smoke filled the air with the heady scent of cinnamon and cedar, a remnant from the bonfire that the Student Government Association organized every year to celebrate the first game of the season. The homecoming event was supposed to boost campus morale, but in your opinion, putting drunk and rowdy college students near an open flame was perhaps not the brightest idea. You always thought it was a recipe for disaster, but you had no idea how catastrophic things could truly be at Ashmore. 

The eerie mist that had settled over campus parted for a squad of police cars, the red and blue lights cutting through the haze like a blade through butter as they raced for the heart of Ashmore. The quiet peace of dawn was shattered by the sound of sirens, which rattled like a death knell through campus. The more you tried to ignore it, the louder the sirens echoed. 

The disturbance was strange enough to warrant investigation. Though you barely got any sleep the night before, you forced yourself out of bed and hastily changed out of your ratty Hello Kitty pajamas. You doubted that any renowned journalist would be caught dead wearing a fictional cat on their ass. 

The gravity of the situation hit you full force when you reached the crowded lobby. If your fellow college student were up at the ass crack of dawn on a weekend, then something was seriously wrong. You elbowed your way through the crowd, eager to find the source of the commotion. Maybe someone got stuck in the laundry chute again. Seamus, probably. 

God, you really hope it was something more exciting than that. You could only report on Finnegan’s clumsy tendencies so many times before the act grew stale. What the Quill needed was hard-hitting journalism. As of late, the campus paper that you wrote for relied solely on fluff pieces and sports highlights that the student population had grown bored with ages ago. They weren’t exactly the type of stories that would warrant a Pulitzer Prize. 

Luck seemed to be on your side as curious chatter rumbled through your apartment lobby. Amidst the crowd, you spotted a familiar tall figure towering over your fellow residents. A smile graced your face as you recognized the chunky knit sweater, baggy corduroy trousers, and beat up combat boots that your best friend had no doubt haphazardly thrown on the second he heard the sirens blaring. 

Sleepy eyes framed by tortoiseshell glasses surveyed the scene, his dead eyed stare softening when he spotted you. Theo pushed his frames up the bridge of his nose and waved. As always, his trusty vintage camera hung loosely around his neck because according to your best friend, point and shoot was the only acceptable way of capturing pictures. You ruffled his already tousled brown waves in greeting, which earned you a fond eye roll. 

Without a word, Theo handed you a cup of steaming hot coffee that he procured from the vending machine. Despite his obvious judgment, you happily indulged in your guilty pleasure. Your best friend remained silent as you took the first sip, his nose upturned and twitching in disapproval as the caffeine worked its magic. 

“Thanks, Teddy,” you murmured in appreciation. 

“I still don’t understand how you can consume that swill.” 

“Not all of us are certified coffee elitists,” you teased. “Maybe you should take a sip. You seem a little cranky this morning.” 

Theo swatted your hand away when you tried to pinch his cheek. “Of course I’m cranky. Who wants to be woken up before noon on a weekend? It’s criminal, really.” 

Your lips twitched in amusement. Normally a sweet and easy going person, Theodore Nott turned into an absolute grump any time his precious sleep was interrupted. 

“Any idea what’s going on?” 

He shook his head. “Not a clue, but I have a feeling you’re about to drag me along for answers, bella.” 

You chuckled as you looped your arm through his. “You know me so well, Nott.” 

The playful mood turned somber as soon as you stepped out of your apartment complex. The smoke was thick, choking the life out of your surroundings while you and Theo walked in tense silence. A sense of mystery and suspense lingered in the air, putting the two of you on edge. Your instincts were screaming at you to veer away from the woods, but for the sake of a story, you forced yourself to take another step towards the sirens. 

“Why is it always the woods?” Theo grumbled. “This place gives me the creeps.” 

You couldn’t have agreed more. The secluded wooded area, which sat on the outskirts of campus, had always seemed menacing to you. The oak trees that crowned the running trail towered over the two of you now, standing proud and tall like omniscient sentinels. The thick roots of the trees choked the earth beneath you and weaved through the entire trail, the strange saplings painting the ground with jewel toned leaves that disturbingly resembled blood. 

Though you weren’t a fan of the place, you were dismayed to find it littered with empty liquor bottles and sports paraphernalia. You hadn’t bothered coming to the bonfire last night and gladly so if this was the aftermath. 

“Poor Enzo.” You could only imagine the depraved things Berkshire witnessed at the bonfire. “I bet last night was a shit show.” 

For reasons beyond your comprehension. Enzo voluntarily covered any and all sporting events for the Quill. You couldn’t even imagine the chaos he witnessed at the bonfire if the scene before you was any indication. 

Theo scoffed. “Don’t let Berkshire fool you. He lives for this type of lawlessness.” 

Lawless, indeed. Theo guided you by the small of your back as you narrowly avoided stepping on loose debris. You gripped the edge of his cardigan for support, shuddering in disgust at the sight of a haphazardly discarded used condom littering the forest floor. 

“How romantic,” your best friend deadpanned. 

You snorted at his remark, fully prepared to volley theories on exactly how the condom ended up in your path, but stopped short when a piercing scream sliced through the forest. Theo appeared rather apprehensive about investigating the source of the sound, but sighed in defeat when you took off running towards whoever it was that was screaming bloody murder. 

“This is exactly how people die in the movies,” Theo muttered under his breath. “And here we are, sprinting headfirst towards our demise.” 

“You could’ve stayed in bed,” you countered.

Your best friend sighed as though he was considering doing just that. “Trust me, the thought crossed my mind about a thousand times, but unfortunately I have a moral responsibility to prevent your untimely death.”

“You love me.”

“To the detriment of my own health and well-being.” 

You chuckled. “Stop whinging and get your camera ready.” 

The scene that greeted you at the edge of the woods was utter chaos. A line of police cars blocked the creek by the woods, the fluorescent lights reflected in the murky waters. The sirens came to a stop, but the screaming continued to echo. At the edge of the creek, a girl your age thrashed in the arms of a police officer and scrambled backwards from the water. Her face was distorted with horror as she pointed a shaking finger into the rivulet. 

You followed the trail and blanched at the reason for her terror. Something floated in the middle of the creek. At first, you thought it was a mannequin. Probably another remnant of the bonfire since students were known to bring and burn a myriad of weird things, but the closer you looked, the clearer the situation became. 

The thing floating in the creek was a real body. A person. His clothes were shredded in long slashes that cut deep into his torso. The water around him was crimson with blood. His flesh was in absolute ruins, barely hanging off the bone like the skin was made of tissue paper. You had never seen anything like it. Whoever did this to him took their time. You didn’t have to be an expert in forensics to know that this was personal. 

You inched closer to peer into the water and froze when you caught a glimpse of his face. A face that you had seen just the other night. The hatred that simmered in his gaze during your last conversation was gone now, snuffed out like his existence. Now those familiar eyes were trained on the horizon, cloudy and unseeing. 

“Are you alright, bella?” Theo asked softly as he took hold of your hands. “You’re shaking.” 

“I knew him,” you whispered. Your voice sounded distant and unfamiliar, as though someone else was speaking.

Theo shielded you from the body, turning you away from the creek. “Were you two close?” 

You shook your head numbly. “No. We had a class together last semester. He…” Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm your nerves. “There was an incident. I lost out on an internship because of him, so I can’t say I was much of a fan. But still, it’s awful to see him like this.” 

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” Theo said as he rubbed your back. “Do you want to leave?” 

Everything within you screamed in agreement. You should leave. You should get as far away as possible from this place. From him.

But instead, you tampered down all of your emotions and wiped the nonexistent tears from your cheeks. “No, there’s a story here. I can feel it. Let’s try to find out what we can.” 

Despite the apprehension written all over your best friend’s face, Theo knew better than to come between you and a story. As always, he followed your lead as you approached the line of squad cars parked in the banks of the creek. The police were busy cordoning the area, which made it easier to sneak closer to the lone ambulance facing away from the scene. 

“Where are we going?” Theo whispered from behind. 

“To speak to a witness.” 

As you rounded the ambulance, the girl from earlier came into view. Wrapped in a thick blanket, she shivered as the cold fall breeze rustled through the woods. The sound of twigs snapping startled the blonde out of her reverie. Behind you, Theo sheepishly grimaced as he tiptoed around to your side. 

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “I’m a bit clumsy.” 

The blonde surveyed the two of you with suspicion. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Y/N. This is Theo.” You flashed your press badge and offered her a sympathetic smile. “We’re with the Quill.” 

“The school newspaper?” 

You nodded in confirmation. “You’re Flint’s girlfriend, right?” The blonde teared up at the mention of Marcus. “I’m so sorry that you found him like that. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Tiffany.” 

“The police said he’d been out here for hours,” Tiffany sniffled. “Oh god, he was probably attacked while I was out partying at the bonfire.” 

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you said, daring to take a step forward. The blonde shuddered as you rubbed her back. “You couldn’t have known.” 

“It’s awful. Who am I supposed to go to Homecoming with now?” 

Theo shot you a look that you purposely ignored. “It’s a terrible tragedy,” you nodded solemnly. “Do the police have any idea what happened?” 

“They didn’t even take my call seriously at first,” she explained. “I told them that Marcus had been missing for a few hours, which is so unlike him. He would never miss a party. At first, I thought he was just cooling off because we had a pretty bad fight last night, but when his brothers said he hadn’t come home this morning, then I really started to get worried.” 

“His brothers?” Theo asked. To both of your knowledge, Flint was the only child of William and Anne Flint, making him the heir to the Flint fortune. A fact that Marcus flaunted any chance he got. 

Tiffany wiped a stray tear away. “His frat brothers.” 

“The Sigmas, right?” 

Sigma Theta, the fraternity that Marcus all but spearheaded, had a rather dark reputation. For years, rumors of fraud, hazing, and drug trafficking had swirled around the organization, but somehow they managed to evade the allegations again and again. Given the powerful alumni that backed the fraternity, you weren’t the least bit surprised. Evidence was lost. Witnesses were intimidated. Law enforcement was bribed. After all, everyone had a price. 

“When was the last time you spoke to Marcus?” 

“We talked on the phone right before the bonfire.” 

“Did he mention speaking to anyone else?” 

“No,” Tiffany answered. “He sounded distracted, but he promised to meet me at the quad.” 

“Distracted how?” 

“Well, it sounded like he wasn’t alone,” Tiffany frowned. “It was probably that bitch Brittany. She’s always trying to steal other people’s boyfriend, the slut. I told Marcus as much and we had an argument about it. That was the last conversation we had.” 

“Do you know if Marcus had any enemies?” 

You could feel Theo’s gaze land on the side of your face, but you kept your attention on Tiffany. “Of course Marcus had enemies. When you’re young and rich, people tend to get jealous.” 

Tiffany folded her legs primly, gathering her composure. The fear and adrenaline pumping through her moments before started to calm. She glanced up at you curiously, recognition of your odd line of question slowly creeping in. Before she returned to her senses, you asked her a question you already knew the answer to. 

“Is there anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt Marcus?” 

The blonde blinked. “You sound so familiar.” 

You squeezed Tiffany’s hand and plastered a smile on your face. “Thank you for answering our questions. You’ve been very helpful. Take care, Tiffany.” 

With that, you promptly walked off. Out past the creek and beyond the woods. Far, far away from the police. It wasn’t until you reached the edge of campus when Theo finally spoke. 

“What was that all about?” 

You blinked up at him with guilt written all over your face. “I did this,” you whispered. “I killed Marcus.”

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Three

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: An Increasingly concerned Nancy looks for Barb and finds out what Jonathan’s been up to. The boys pair up with El for an investigation. Joyce is convinced that Will and Steph are trying to talk to her. Meanwhile, Steve feels like someone’s watching his every move.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 15,209 (Oh, lord)

🎲Date: 05/27/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Talks of Kidnapping; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Talks of Mental Health Issues; Bullying of All Kinds; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Crying (Lots of it); Brief Mention of Corpses; Gun Use; Implied Unloving Parents; Will & Steph's Mental Strain - Joyce's Too; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Total Mess; Steve's 'Asshole Era'; Steve's Emotional Damage. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

-This also contains me not knowing how the fuck the Upside Down works despite so much research.-

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N:  So… this is a very long, very intense one. Very emotional too. Hopefully y'all are ready for this. I notice a lot of you readers are spitting out theories and I can't help but love them. But unfortunately I have to stay silent and let you guess wait 🤭. While rewatching this episode, I totally forgot how fucking good of an actress Winona Ryder is. Seriously, rewatch the scenes with her and the lights again and you'll see. Any who, Happy Memorial Day everyone! Enjoy!

Steve practically had to “bully” Tommy into taking his girlfriend home last night. It was hard for him to make eye contact with her after their argument – A real argument, not just some mindless bickering they’ve done in the past that doesn’t pack much heat, but a real, real argument – and when she came back to his room only a few minutes later telling him that Barb must have left already and needed a ride, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Was this making him feel and look like a coward? Probably. But it’s not like he didn’t want to risk having another eye opening conversation with her again.

Eye opening, my ass. There was no “eye opening”. I’m just being paranoid. But was he though?

Nancy, oh, sweet Nancy, always talked about how she was aiming for journalism as her major. For a while, to be honest, he couldn’t really see it. Sure, curiosity was practically tattooed on her heart, but the months they’ve been dating he hasn’t seen anything else that screams “I’m a Journalist”. 

That was until last night.

He’s not sure why he never put that box away after their friendship ended, he doesn’t know why he didn’t just stuff it into his closet or under his bed, but the fact that someone had found it in his spot he called “out of sight, out of mind” shocked him. The little box that could fit under his dresser, completely oblivious to anyone who stands next to it. Of course out of all the days for someone to finally have spotted it was the day he brought his girlfriend to his home (Still, it might have been better for her to find it rather than his parents. They sure were… nosy).

And of course she would be the one to break him down when he was trying to forget, forget because it was the best option here.

And his girlfriend was smart, one of the traits he most admired, and she could read through his lies most of the time, a trait he hates. Loathe. But… did he really think he could have avoided all this? That once he put a lid on their friendship she would suddenly vanish? Every single thing about Stephanie Henderson would be forgotten? That was the plan, the “dream” so to speak. I guess dreams don’t always stay dreams unless you put work into them.

.

“So who is she to you?” Nancy asked, standing up and flashing the memorabilia at him.

.

She was just… just some kid he knew since they were five. Nothing more than that, It shouldn’t be more than that. She was just some girl that had confidence radiating out of her as they lock pinkies and swore–

.

“I’m not jealous. I’m just curious.” Nancy replies, honestly. She takes another look at the photos in her hand before looking back at him. “I mean, if she isn’t your friend anymore, then why do you hang on to all this stuff? Or better question–”

“Nancy, stop, it’s just–”

“Why did you break it off?”

His brain short circuits again. “What?”

“I said, ‘Why did you break it off?’ I mean…” She flips through some of the photos he has, memorized. “From what I see, you two remind me of Barb and I. You two look like you were tied at the hip. So why break it off?”

.

Because he had to. He needed to. God knows if he didn’t, her and her family would be… Jeez. He could barely remember it, not wanting to remember it.

The memory was blurry. So blurry. Maybe it was the many hits in the head for his shitty memory, or maybe he was really, really trying not to remember it. 

What was his parents planning on doing again that made him so… scared?

.

“Look, I just want to understand you. I mean, every time I think I have you figured out you throw me through a loop.” She gives him a reassuring look as she picks up the box, shuffling whatever was remaining around. “I mean, from what I see, you seem like a completely different person then. I just wonder if it’s a good thing or a bad–” 

.

No… no. He still doesn’t understand what she meant. He hasn’t “changed”. He’s still the same person since the day he was born. What was she even getting that from? A couple glances at some photos gave her a new impression of him? There’s no way. It’s laughable. It’s totally laughable. Everything that’s happened between him and Henderson was totally laughab–

.

“‘CAUSE IT WAS MY FAULT!! OKAY?!” Steve snaps, startling them both (He can’t believe he just lost his cool like that). He swallows again, head spinning at the memories (Why did he fucking leave the box right there?). “I just… there was an incident and… it… shaped my decision, okay? But it didn’t involve me or her with a gun, it was… s-someone else. Someone I know. I don’t know why I’m holding onto it, I…” 

.

That certainly wasn’t laughable.

Sometimes that memory is hazy, which he preferred, but the other times it was crystal clear. Too clear. Just a heated exchange between him and someone else just before it went to shit. He still remembers the pain in his bicep, the wind feeling like it was getting knocked out of him with someone’s loud scream. Then came the sinking realization that Henderson wasn’t bouncing up to her feet like he did. 

It still… fucks with him sometimes. Taunting. Haunting. Torturing. 

.

Nancy breaks eye contact, and only reverses it when she gathers the right words. “Look, Steve, I’m sorry I intruded, I probably shouldn’t have but… I’m just trying to understand you.”

Steve shakes his head, still confused. “I-I…” He shrugs, and crosses his arms defensibly. “What’s there to understand?”

.

Exactly. There’s nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Nothing. She doesn’t need to go digging around Pandora’s box.

.

But Nancy looked at him with eyes full of pity and took another step closer. “I don’t know what the reason was for you two to stop being friends, but all I know, from what I gathered, she wasn’t the one to end it.” She places Steph’s flier on his chest that he subconsciously grabbed, and said one last thing before leaving his room. And that was,

“Maybe there was a good reason for you to end it, but that’s not an excuse for you to stop being who you really are.”

.

But I haven’t changed. I’ve been the same person since I was born. Even his own gut coiled at his denial. The heaven’s beyond were probably busting a lung. Hell was shaking its head. He just keeps telling himself that lie and maybe it’ll come true one day.

Yeah, right.

This boy’s been telling himself that for almost two years now and hasn’t even sunk in yet.

Steve sighs, rolling in his bed to face his alarm clock; The red numbers glaring at him. It hadn’t even gone off yet, he still has about an hour but… 

Another sigh. School. Right.

He didn’t even feel like going, too mentally exhausted from staying up pretty much all night, completely alone with his thoughts – His very dangerous, troubling thoughts. He didn’t want to go, but his parents were going to be home any minute now from their trip and were not going to be happy if they saw him just lying around. They were surely going to berate him for missing a day of learning. Except...

Fuck. Going wasn’t an option, his brain hurts and his body was dragging and he really, really didn’t want to see Nancy’s pitiful eyes, or listen to Tommy’s mocking, or Carol’s sexified comments. Fuck, no. Fuck.

Where can he hide out for the next eight hours? He started putting what was left of brain together as he threw something on, not even trying to dress to impress today, and snagged his precious car keys. He is about a foot outside his bedroom when something tells him to stop. His chocolate eyes stare at the box on the end of his bed, something deep inside tells him not to leave it unoccupied.

He swallows, wanting to tell his subconscious to fuck off and leave him be, but… 

“Fuck it.” He races back over, making sure the lid was on before taking it with him. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

It’s been… how many days since then? They don’t know. They stopped counting every time they ran into trouble. Like… right now. Traumatized by the beast pulling an innocent woman into the Harringtons’ pool and violating her before coming after them. They were lucky to have some kind of head start or otherwise they might have been goners. But–

Jesus. It was getting hard to breathe in this place, the cold weather was getting to them too. 

Eventually, miraculously, they had escaped from their predator when their bodies finally gave out.

“Fuck.” Stephanie gasped as the two of them collapsed in someone’s backyard. They both sat on their hands and knees, a line of sweat dripping off their icy noses. She sniffles and pants, her breath being seen in the air. “This is getting ridiculous.”

It really, really was. They can’t even take a break without worrying if that thing would come after them. 

How am I supposed to figure out how to get out of here if I can’t even stop to think? She sits back on her news, frowning. “Why does it keep coming after us?”

Will sneezes, and sniffles before resting his body against the side of the random house. He starts fiddling with his frigiding fingers, worried if he was going to say something wrong. “I don’t think this time it was. It looks like it was attacking someone else.”

“That’s true.” She sighs, taking her cap off for a second to rest. “However, we either were at the wrong place at the wrong time, or that thing was following us and grabbed the first prey it saw.”

He nods. “Yeah. But that doesn’t explain where the person came from. Does… that mean we aren’t the only people here?”

“I don’t know.” Are there actually more people here? “I mean, I guess on the bright side, if more people are going missing someone’s gotta know what’s going on, right?”

That honestly didn’t cross her mind at all while being here. She was so worried about keeping herself and especially Will alive that she didn’t think about what was going on on the other side. How was her family reacting? His family too? And what about the town? Did the police actually give a fuck this time?

I really hope it’s Hopper. He seems like the only one who gave shit last time. Stephanie prays he’s on her case as she subconsciously tries to grab the chain around her neck, only to find nothing. Her heart sinks as she looks down and feels around the front of her shirt.

“Shit.” She says, dreadfully. Did she really lose her–

“What?” Will replies, concerned. 

“Uh, I just…” Fuck. “I just uh, lost my necklace.” She frowns again. “I didn’t even realize it.”

Now it was his turn to look sad (I guess you could say he was just copying her expression). “We can go look for it if you like.”

She’s already shaking his head. “No. It’s okay. I could have lost it on the first day here without realizing it.”

“Can you replace it?”

“It’s… I don’t know. It was a gift.” She looks over at him, his expression seems so broken over her confession. “It’s okay, Will. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but still.”

Stephanie couldn’t help but crack a small smile on her peach lips, and ruffle the boy’s hair. “Don’t ever change, kid. You’ve got a good little heart.” That seemed to do the trick because the boy blushed and seemed all proud of himself.

“Do you think it’s safe to rest here for a bit?” Will asked, as she looked around.

“Yeah.” She nods. “I think we’ll be fine. How about you pull out the blanket?”

They both shrug their backpacks off, and keep their guns by their sides pointed safely away; Will unrolls the blanket they took from her house and scoots closer. Steph tucks the fabric under their feet before the boy snuggles up to her side. Dying from the cold was off the menu for the both of them. For most of the time they stayed quiet, controlling their breathing and rubbing their cold hands in their laps.

“There’s something I don’t understand though.” Will blurted out. I guess this was the thought that came to mind in the moment of silence.

“And what’s that?” The older girl asked, sparing him a glance.

“If that thing is supposed to… you know, kill people, then why bring them here?” He stares up at her nervously. “Why not just kill us in our world? Why the extra hassle to bring us here?”

Her eyes widened slightly, those words hitting her like a truck. “That’s… a good question.” A really good question. It was something else she hasn’t thought about either. If the beast could go between worlds, why bring them here for the kill? 

Will must have noticed the wheels turning in the girls head and looks down hopelessly. “It’s going to be hard for people to find us then, right?”

Stephanie says nothing, and gnaws on her bottom lip because he’s right. If they’re stuck in another world then…

.

.

.

How are their loved ones going to know?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When Jonathan woke up the next day he wasn’t expecting his mother to be leaving before he did. “Mom? Where are you going?” He asked, as she stopped upon hearing him speak.

“Oh, I’m going to town. I’m going to pick up a few things.” She replies, putting her belongings into her purse. “I was… you know, thinking about maybe getting some stuff Will likes to eat so he can have it when he gets home. Or, you know–”

“Mom?”

“And maybe a new phone? Our old one’s obviously not fine, so–”

“Mom?” Jonathan tries again, getting a hum. “You sure you’re okay going by yourself? I can miss school again if you don’t feel comfortable yet.”

“No, no, don’t do that. Go… I just need to get out of the house. I’ve been stuck in here for a few days.” Joyce replies, reassuring her oldest. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” He nods. “But if something happens just… call the school and I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” She says, giving her a quick hug. “Thank you, sweetie. I’ll see you later.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

In the early morning at the Wheeler’s house, the boys were planning a mission to finally figure out what happened to their friends.

“We just tell our parents we have AV Club after school. That’ll give us at least a few hours for Operation Mirkwood.” Mike explains, the three of them gathered around the upside down D&D board.

“You seriously think that the weirdo knows where Will and Steph are?” Lucas said, making the other boy eye roll.

“Just trust me on this, okay? Did you get the supplies?”

“Yeah.” He nods, and shows off what he’s got. “Binoculars... from ‘Nam. Army knife... also from ‘Nam. Hammer, camouflage bandana…” He grins. “And the wrist rocket.”

Dustin looks at him strangely, almost laughing. “You’re gonna take out the Demogorgon with a slingshot?”

“First of all, it’s a wrist rocket. And second of all, the Demogorgon’s not real. It’s made up. But if there is something out there, I’m gonna shoot it in the eye–” Lucas snaps the rubber and startles his friend. “And blind it.”

“Dustin, what did you get?” Mike asked, trying to get straight to the point.

“Well, alrighty.” Dustin starts pouring stuff out of his bag, also proud of what he grabbed (Which is totally not what Mike told him to bring). “So, we’ve got... Nutty Bars, Bazooka, Pez, Smarties, Pringles, Nilla Wafers, apple, banana, and trail mix.”

“Seriously?” Lucas said, disappointed.

“We need energy for our travels. For stamina. And besides, why do we even need weapons anyway?” He points to the girl on the couch. “We have her.”

“She shut one door!”

“With her mind! Are you kidding me? That’s insane!” Dustin could almost laugh with all the stuff he could think of about her powers. “Imagine all the other cool stuff she could do. Like…” He quickly looks around and grabs a giant toy version of the Millennium Falcon. “I bet that she could make this fly!” He stands in front of El and holds it out. “Hey. Hey. Okay, concentrate. Okay?” He lets go of the toy that quickly drops to the floor. “Okay, one more time. Okay. Use your powers, okay?”

“Idiot.” Lucas mumbles once the toy drops to the floor again.

Mike sighs. “She’s not a dog!” He says, taking it away from him.

“Boys!” Karen calls out from above. “Time for school!”

He crouches down in front of Eleven as the rest of his friends make their way up stairs. “Just stay down here. Don’t make any noise, and don’t leave. If you get hungry, eat Dustin’s snacks, okay?” 

“Michael!”

“Coming!” Why must he be rushed? “You know those power lines?”

“Power lines?” El asked, confused.

“Yeah. The ones behind my house?”

“Yes.”

“Meet us there, after school.”

“After school?”

“Yeah, 3:15.” It took a second for Mike to realize that she didn’t understand. “Ah. Hang on.” He unstraps his watch and ties around her own wrist. “When the numbers read three-one-five, meet us there.”

“‘Three-one-five’.” She repeats.

He nods. “Yeah. Three-one-five.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Did you get any rest?”

Her tired blue eyes looked back at him, his face scrunched up in concern for the girl that almost tripped two seconds ago. And to answer his question, it was ‘no’. Their little rest had turned into sleep, but once again she couldn’t dare close her eyes with the beast lurking somewhere (She’s honestly surprised she’s still standing at this point).

“Yeah, I got a little.” She said, hoping that sounded convincing. 

Will narrows his eyes and steps in front of her, stopping them from walking any further. “No you didn’t.”

“Will–”

“Why aren’t you getting any sleep?”

She sucks in a breath. Guess there was no point in arguing with a twelve year old. “Because I’m keeping an eye out.” She tries taking a step around him but he follows.

“That’s bullshit.” He replies, shocking her (She’s honestly heard him cuss before. Which is ironic since he hangs out with three boys that act like cussing is their first language).

“Will, it’s true. I’m keeping an eye out.”

“Yeah, I understand. But you can’t keep missing sleep because of that.”

“Someone’s got to protect you. Just like I promise.”

“Well how are you supposed to do that when you can barely stand?” That seemed to strike a nerve. “Can you just… next time we sleep, I’ll watch and you actually sleep.”

“Will–”

“And, if I hear something, I’ll wake you up immediately. How’s that?”

Well… she can’t say no to that face. She sighs. “Okay. I’ll sleep.” She replies, getting him to smile. “But you wake me up if you hear anything, okay? Don’t you even think about doing the opposite and handling it yourself. I don’t want you to wound up hurt or dead. Got it?”

“Got it.” 

The two of them continued their unwanted detour that ended up being Hawkins’ little downtown. This place looked more like the apocalypse than their neighbourhoods. Dark, abandoned, quiet and completely trashed. It seemed a little scarier to walk around than the previous routes they took. 

“Maybe we can hide out somewhere here?” Will asked, as they stopped at an intersection to look around.

“Possibly. If anything’s open we can. I want to avoid making too much ruckus in case that’s what attracts the monster.” Steph said, thinking. 

They walked slowly and carefully by each store, peeking inside to see if anything got their attention. Stephanie blissfully sighs upon seeing a familiar sign and points.

“Dude, I kill for some chicken parmesan right now.” She says, smiling at the thought of eating Italian at ‘Enzo’s’. 

“Hmm, meatball’s sounds good. But I think I really want my mom’s Sloppy Joes.” Will admits, and can already picture it in front of him.

“Sloppy Joes are awesome too. I wouldn’t mind eating that when I get back either. Then Enzo’s.”

“Totally Enzo’s.” He chuckles. “Uh, so when we do get out of here, how do we explain this to someone?”

“What? This?” She gestures to the open air. “You mean that telling the authorities that we were abducted by an eight foot tall creature with just a mouth and brought to a creepier version of Hawkins doesn’t sound truthful?”

He makes a face. “I… I don’t know. They might think we’re crazy.”

“Crazy, but it’s true.” She shrugs. “I really do wonder how we’re going to explain this.”

“I hope my mom contacted Chief Hopper. I know they were good friends growing up, I’m sure he believes her.”

“I hope it’s him, I don’t really like some of the people he works with.”

Will tilts his head, confused. “You don’t like cops?”

“No, I don’t certain cops here. I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them.”

“How come?”

“Well–” She cuts herself off and stops, eyes trailing to something inside one of the shops. She takes a second to make sure she’s seeing that right before pointing and saying, “November 6th.”

Will perks up at that. “That’s the day when we had our D&D campaign. The night we disappeared.”

“Yeah.” Steph looks around her hand following up to another object, a clock. “Nine Twenty-Three. That’s probably around the time we disappeared too.”

“But why is everything stuck this way?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, didn’t this place exist beforehand?” Will asked, head spinning. “How come everything is stuck on the night we disappeared?”

She purses her lips. “It… exist because of us? Or does time run differently here?”

“This is making my head hurt.”

She chuckles. “You and me both, kid.”

They continued their walk, popping into a few shops when they saw something useful, like another set of matches or even a sleeping bag they could share. They eventually ended up at a hunting store and scavenged there. Steph started grabbing a couple boxes of shotgun shells and ones that could fit inside Mr. Harrington’s pistol. It felt strange to have something like this in her possession, especially given the history of it. A very… bittersweet history of it. 

Stupid, Harring– The small box tv on the counter startled her when it made a noise. When her gaze locks onto it, she realizes it’s not even on. She sighs, shaking her head. Now I’m imagining shit? This is getting fucking ridiculous.

She starts making room inside her bag for the ammunition when–

.

|| –Those Poor Children. ||

.

Stephanie nearly drops everything and grips the gun and starts frantically searching for the voice. What in the fucking–

.

|| Jesus, I know. I can only imagine what their families are going through. ||

|| It’s such a shame– ||

.

“What the…?”

“Did you hear that too?” Will asked, eyes full of hope as she looked between him and empty space behind the counter.

“Huh? Um… Y-Yeah. I-I did.” She swallows and then realizes something. “Wait… is that what you– Is that what you were talking about?”

“Yeah!” He shakes his head eagerly. “I told you, I swear I could hear my mom and Jonathan talking that night. I told you I wasn’t crazy.”

Stephanie takes a deep breath, still in a bit of disbelief I mean– This changes everything she’s thought about this place. “If we can hear somebody, then…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. It was so shocking.

“Maybe we can talk to them. I know for a fact my mom heard me when I called the phone. She even responded when I talked back.”

“So it’s totally possible.” She goes silent to think, an idea coming to mind in a matter of seconds. She grins. “Follow me.”

Will of course does, a little intrigued by the fact that they found themselves climbing to the top of an old bell tower that overlooks most of Hawkins. “What is this place?”

“Somewhere I probably shouldn’t have been hanging out at when I was young.” Steph admits. “Don’t worry, the tower hasn’t been used in decades ‘cause the bell’s broken. Alright.” She smacks her hands together. “We have to figure out a way to get someone’s attention. Whether it’s your family, my family, friends, or hell, even some random stranger. We just need to get someone’s attention.”

“But how? I’m not even sure how any of this works.” Will asked, truthfully. He’s still not even really sure how he was able to contact his mom that night. 

She hums, scratching her head. “Where’s your house at?” He gets close to the edge, looks around and points to it in the distance. She nods and starts doing the same as she speaks, “Alright, well there’s mine, Lucas’, and Mike’s. So we got options. We just need to figure out how you were able to speak to your mom that night. If we can figure that out, maybe we can do it again.”

“All I really did was just dial my house’s number and she picked up.”

“Okay. Maybe it’s just that simple after all.”

“Well… I know whatever happened that night, it fired the house’s phone. We’re going to need a new phone.”

“We can get one. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll move on to another house. Hopefully, one of our friends will pick up.”

And they have to. This is our only plan right now. She waves for him to go first. “Careful going down, it’s more tricky than going up.”

“Okay.” He says, doing what he was told.

She starts to follow closely behind when another voice appears.

.

|| I am such an idiot. || 

.

She froze, her heart sinking again. She looks back at one of the corners of the tower, and an aching feeling in her gut.

“Steve?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve had a cigarette in one hand, and his other tangled up his own locks; One leg was dangling off the tower, while the rest of his body laid against the arch of the opening. Today was stupidly sunny, barely any clouds and no smell of precipitation in the air for a chance of rain – the aesthetic was the complete opposite of his mood right now.

He took a puff of nicotine and blew it out like a long, heavy sigh. The shit from last night keeps replaying in his head, provoking him to do or say something he’s probably not supposed to (or is supposed to, his subconscious yells at him) – He still doesn’t understand why he suddenly ended up here out of place. He could have gone to skull rock, or even the quarry, or maybe even just running around the mall hoping no one realizes he’s a teenager and asks why he’s not in school.

He groans, closing his eyes, listening to the traffic below and people bickering, praying nobody looks up and finds him here. Again, why did I pick this place?

“I am such an idiot.” He mutters, then the insecurities he had slowly started to fade away when he felt a presence nearby. Worried that maybe a cop finally found him, he changes his sadden look for something cooler before opening his eyes and looking. 

But strangely enough, no one was even there.

“Huh.” Steve blinks, swearing that he could feel someone was watching him. Maybe though? I mean, this was an old church that may or may not be haunted.

He shakes his head. “Fuck this.” He puts his bud out on the ground and stands up to leave.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Hey, Where’s Steve? I didn’t see his car in the parking lot.” Nancy asks, butting into Carol and Tommy’s conversation. She honestly wanted to see him to give him another apology, she still felt bad for prying so much about something she probably shouldn’t have seen. And I want to see if he’s in a good mental state today.

She watches the couple spare a look and gets worried, “What?”

“You haven’t seen him yet?” Carol said, as she shakes her head. “That’s weird.”

“Steve never skips school.” Tommy adds.

“What did you guys argue about last night?”

“Us?” Nancy said, pointing to herself. “You think he’s not here because we fought?”

“It’s a possibility. He finally has a girlfriend who’s charm finally made the King skip class.” Carol said, arms cross. “I’d say that’s an achievement.”

She scoffs. “First of all, It was just a disagreement, nothing more. A second, there’s no way that’s the reason he’s not here.”

“Maybe you hit one of his insecurities you were yelling about last night.”

Nancy holds her tongue and ends up just leaving in a huff. Every time she thinks she’s finally on their level, she’s pushed back down. She sighs and enters her first class of the day. Her gaze follows over to where her friend would be at, but atlas, her desk was empty.

She reaches out and taps the girl in front of her shoulder. “Hey, Ally. Where’s Barb?”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Um, shouldn’t you know?”

Nancy’s stomach dropped. “You haven’t seen her anywhere... at all?” 

Ally shakes her head just as the bell rings and everyone’s ordered to sit down, leaving the Wheeler to wonder if she stayed home too because of their bickering.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“There she is. Emerald City.” Powell announced as they pulled up to the one and only laboratory in Hawkins. They were going off really their only lead at this point, and hoping it plays out.

“I heard they make space weapons in there.” Callahan replies, getting a look. 

“Space weapons?”

“Yeah. You know, like, Reagan’s Star Wars. I guess we’re gonna blow the Ruskies to smithereens.”

“Hey, can I help you?” The guard asked once the police car rolled to a stop just in front of the gate.

“Uh, yeah. We’re here for a tour.” Hopper lied.

“Oh, we don’t give tours.”

“Okay... A quick look around.”

“You have to get clearance for that. You can contact, uh... Rick Schaeffer at the Department of Energy.”

“Maybe you seen it on TV.” Hopper pushes, not backing down from this. “We got two local kids missing. We have reason to believe they might have snuck in here.”

“Like I said, you have to speak to Mr. Schaeffer.”

Hopper exhaled through his nose, and turned the car and placed his hat on the dashboard; His partners beside him grew quiet, and let him have at it. “What’s your name?”

“Patrick.” 

“Patrick, I got a panicked mayor, and I got reporters breathing down my neck and I got two very upset mothers.” He said, his face growing softer, more wounded like. “Now, I know the kid’s not in there, but I gotta check off this box. Patrick, would you do me a favor? Would you speak to your boss and see what you can swing for us? I’d really appreciate it. I’m talking ten minutes, tops.”

Just ten minutes to see if they were in there. That’s all that the police chief needs…

And wants.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve heads inside the shop nearby, his stomach growling for food. It completely slipped his mind this morning – or afternoon now – he’s completely lost track of time. 

Now what kind of junk sounds appetizing today? He starts wandering around, not at all familiar with this layout or the shop for that matter (Why didn’t he just go to the sandwich shop next door again?). As he slips through one of the aisles, he notices the person in front of him struggling to reach for something off the high shelf. 

Deciding to be a nice boy, he reaches up and grabs it down for her. “Here you go, Ma’am.”

“Oh, thank you.” She said, surprised and grateful. “How kind of you.”

“Early Christmas shopping?” 

“Oh, I wish. No, I just need a new phone in case my son calls the house.”

He nods. “Your son lives far then?”

“Um, no, h-he’s missing.”

Oh?

Oh…

Oh!

Steve’s eyes widened at the realization. “Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry. You’re that kid’s mother.”

“I am.” Joyce says, shifting her weight around. 

“Am… so sorry, I-I didn’t know, I–”

“Like you said, you didn’t know.” She puts the phone into the shopping cart. “It’s okay.”

“Okay, um…” This was awkward, right? Steve shifted on his feet too, not really sure how to wrap this up. “Uh, do you have… uh… heard any updates?”

Joyce shakes her head, sadly. “Not yet. I know the Police Chief has put many of his guys and volunteers to work. But I think at this point they covered all of Hawkins.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just, uh–” He trails off, struggling to make a sentence. “Sorry, I was just being nosy. I don’t really hear much news, I…” He swallows. “I went to school with the Henderson girl, so...”

Is he making any sense? Hopefully she’s understanding what he means– Fuck, his heart’s racing so fast.

“Oh, yeah?” Joyce said, looking bittersweet – Looking like she was a mother staring at her hurt child (How come his own mother never looked at him like that?). “Must be hard knowing someone you knew is missing.”

Damn, right on the money. “Yeah.” He says, his throat feeling tight.

She hums, and then gives him a stern expression. “Shouldn’t you be in school though?”

Annnnddddd… Fuck. 

Nice Going, Harrington. He scolded himself as he racked his brain for a believable lie. “Oh, uh, I-I graduated already. I was a grade ahead.”

“Oh.” She says, apologetically. “My mistake.”

“No worries, seriously. It happens all the time.” At least he didn’t say something stupid, and needs to get out of this conversation before he does but… damn his little heart sometimes. “Uh–” He gestures to her cart full of different items. “Do you want me to pay for some of that? For bothering you? Or uh, I… I know you’re probably–”

“Oh, no!” She shakes her head. “No. Thanks, but I can get it. Money’s a little tight, I’ll admit, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You know?”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I appreciate the offer.” Joyce smiles, and subconsciously pats the young man on his shoulder. “You’re very sweet. Take care.”

“You too.” He says, seeing this as he exits and walks past her.

Joyce watches as he turns to another aisle, growing a bit sad by the interaction. 

Alright, do I have everything? She has a new phone, some groceries– things she knows Will would like– 

The display of string lights flickered for a second.

Confused, thinking most likely it was probably a short circuit, she doesn’t understand why she ended up muttering her youngest name, “Will.”

Coincidentally, the light flickers shortly afterwards. “Will!” She says, again, hope blooming in her chest. Then, all the lights on the display shined for a few seconds. 

God, call her crazy, but maybe this was a sign that her son is still close by.

Before anyone could blink, the checkout counter was filled up with so many boxes of Christmas lights, some just the basic color, and some of the tri-colors. She can only imagine how much this is going to cost her, but who cares! If this is strangely how she can talk to her son, then this is what she shall do.

Her Boss, who was the clerk for the day, looks at her worriedly. “Joyce–”

“Just ring me up, Donald.” Is all she said, patiently waiting until he was all finished. Without sparing another word, she gathers all the bags into her hands and races to her car.

Donald sighs while watching her leave. “That poor woman.” He says, just as Steve comes up to the counter with his snacks and drinks. He raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be minding your own business?” Steve said, becoming bitter again.

“Mmm, hmm.” He scans everything and a price pops up on his screen. “That’ll be Five-Fifty.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Found a phone.” Will said, almost immediately as they entered. It shouldn’t be a shock since this is the place his mother works at.

“That should work.” Steph said, smiling. “Let’s get a move on.”

Will gets up on his tippy toes to grab it, slowly pulling it off the shelf when something presses his hand. Startled, he falls back and the older girl grabs the box before it falls. 

“What happened?” She asked, worriedly.

“S-Something touched me.” He says, taking a step back.

“What?” She hands him the box and peeks over the shelf herself (She’s not exactly tall either). There was nothing odd out of the ordinary, just the normal dust and native plants that grew in this world. She frowns. “I don’t really see anything.”

Suddenly the display of lights flickered. Out of instinct her hand reaches for the pistol at her side. Then her heart sinks at the next thing.

.

|| Uh, do you want me to pay for some of that? I know you’re probably– || 

.

“Steve?” Stephanie says, surprised. 

So she wasn’t crazy after all. She did hear him. 

Will looked up at her, stunned too. “Steve Harrington?” He asked, but before she could speak another voice could be heard.

.

|| –I can get it. Money’s a little tight, I’ll admit, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You know? ||

|| You sure? ||

|| Yes. I appreciate the offer. You’re very sweet. Take care. || 

.

“Mrs. Byers?/Mom?!” They both erupted, then went quiet to see if they could hear anything else.

Nothing.

“Shit.” The oldest said, and now gnawing on her lip again, nervously (And completely forgetting about Steve for the time being). “That might have been our chance.” She hears the boy drop the phone somewhere next to her. “Will?”

The boy seemed fascinated with an idea swirling around in his head. Stephanie finds herself just watching, waiting to see what he had in mind. Will reaches up and lets his fingers brush the display of some string lights, the lights getting a little bit hazy – It was almost like his touch was giving them electricity. 

.

|| Will. || 

.

Joyce’s voice broke through very faintly, but they both heard it and nearly cried.

“Touch the light again.” Steph said, urgently. Will does what he’s told and they both stay quiet again.

.

|| Will! ||

.

“She hears us.” He says, happily. 

“Holy shit…” She chuckles. “I have an idea. Touch all the lights.”

Frantically, they rush to touch all the lights they saw on display, not even questioning how this was even possible, they just hoped Joyce got the message. Once the hue died down they both held their breaths, and crossed their fingers. And then…

.

|| Just ring me up, Donald. ||

.

Stephanie threw her hands up. “Yes!” She says, with Will laughing beside her. “Thank you, Ms. Byers.”

“My mom’s the best.” He said, with a warm look.

“Hell, yeah she is. And forget the phone–” She locks eyes with him, determined. “I think we figured out a better way to communicate.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“And you think these missing kids may have crawled through there?” 

Hopper spares the man a glance before looking back at the drain. Somehow, he convinced the security guard to let him and his guys in, but so far their theories are turning out pretty sour. “Well, that was the idea.”

Their “Tour Guide”, I guess you can call him that, made a fact that was all smug and prideful. “Yeah, I just don’t see how that’d be possible. We’ve got over 100 cameras. Every square inch covered, plus all my guys. No one breaks in here. Certainly not some kids.”

Hopper perked up at the news, eyes trailing to a few cameras in view. Now it was his turn to be the smug one as he asked, “Those cameras, you keep the tapes?”

Well… I don’t think the guide was expecting that reaction.

Now, the three of them were following the man inside, the hallways swarmed with men in lab coats, and a security team blocking a room that was marked “hazardous”. 

The police Chief found this a bit suspicious and asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you guys do in here?”

The guide chuckles. “You’re asking the wrong guy.”

“Staying one step ahead of the Russians?”

“I expect. Something like that.”

“Who’s in charge here?”

“That’d be Dr. Brenner.”

“And he builds the space lasers?” Callahan asked, eagerly. 

“Space lasers?”

“Ignore him.” Hopper replies, sighing. They eventually entered the surveillance room, the three of them watching the screen closely. “This is the night of the 6th and 7th we’re seeing here?”

“That’s correct.”

Hopper narrows his eyes, waiting to see if he sees anything unusual. However, to his surprise, the tape only lasted less than a minute. “Is that it?” He asked, in disbelief. 

“Like I said, we would have seen them.”

And then the cops were practically shoved out of there, and the guide gives them their condolences for the tired search (Yeah, what an asshole, right?).

“The night of the 7th, we had a search party out for Will and Stephanie. You remember anything about that night?” Hopper asked, seeing if he wasn’t the only suspicious one. 

“Mmm, not much to remember. Called it off.” Callahan replies, thinking.

 “‘Cause of the storm.” Powell adds.

“Yeah, a lot of rain that night.” Hopper says, arriving at their car. “You see any rain on that tape?”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” He spares a look at the building, a sinking feeling in his gut. “But they’re lying.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the boys were outside shifting through the playground for some rocks. Mike picks one up and shows it off. “How about this one?”

Dustin looks and shakes his head. “Too big for the sling.” He says, getting on his knees to do some digging. “So, do you think Eleven was born with her powers, like the X-Men, or do you think she acquired them, like... like Green Lantern?

“She’s not a superhero. She’s a weirdo.” Lucas replies, rolling his eyes.

“Why does that matter?” Mike snaps, offended. “The X-Men are weirdos.” 

“If you love her so much, why don’t you marry her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mike, seriously?”

“What?”

“You look at her all, like…” Lucas makes a giggly face, and softens his body language, followed by a higher pitched voice, “‘Hi, El! El! El! El! I love you so much! Would you marry me’?” 

“Shut up, Lucas.”

“Yeah, shut up, Lucas.” Their bully, Troy, announced as he stomped towards the group. “What are you losers doing back here?”

“Probably looking for their missing friends.” James said, smirking.

“That’s not funny. It’s serious. They’re in danger.” Dustin hisses, annoyed.

“I hate to break it to you, Toothless, but they’re not in danger.” Troy bites back. “They’re dead. That’s what my dad says. He said that Byers was probably killed by some other queer. And maybe your sister’s been killed by some crazy stalker who is into weirdos like her.”

The two bullies laugh as Dustin looks like he’s about to strangle someone. No one says anything about Will like that. And nobody especially says something like that about his big sister.

Mike sees this, and puts his arm in front of his friend to soothe him. “Come on. Just ignore them.” He says, and starts to leave, only to be tripped – and face planted into the ground.

“Watch where you’re going, Frogface.” Troy spats, but he instantly gets a taste of his own medicine. 

To everyone’s surprise, Dustin was the one to deliver the karma, which was forcibly shoving him to the ground. 

Everyone stared, and before someone could speak he shoved James too and scrambled to pick up Mike.

“Lucas! Let’s go!” Dustin yells, and silently tells Mike to go. As they were leaving, he flips the bullies the bird and snaps, “You shitheads need to keep Will and Phanie’s name out of your mouths! Got it?!”

And then they broke off into a Usain Bolt type sprint.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

They finally ended up back on Mirkwood, guns loaded, backpacks full, and hope in their chest. If this works, if Joyce does this right, then maybe they can finally communicate to the other side. All they needed to do was tell her where they are, and maybe they could figure out a way to get back. 

It sounded easy, and they just hoped it was.

The two of them were silent for most of the walk, and when they got to this specific road, the boy grabbed her hand, shaking. She says nothing, ‘cause nothing needs to be said about it. If that’s what made him feel safe then so be it.

“Do you think it’s negative emotions?” Will eventually said, breaking the ice.

Stephanie tilts her head, confused. “Hmm?”

“Do you think that’s how we can hear some people? Through negative emotions?” He looks up at her. “Like my mom, she must be worried about me, maybe that’s why we can hear her?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, shocked. It’s definitely a plausible theory (But would that apply to Steve as well? And if so, why is he so worried?). “Maybe.”

“But would that go with us too?” He adds, the wheels in his head really were turning today. “I mean, is that how the beast picks their victims? Because they’re in a bad mental state?”

Well, now that makes sense if you put it that way. “It’s possible.” She said, nodding. Yeah, that’s completely possible. 

It explains a lot of things. More or so she wanted to admit. She knows these last two years were… interesting to say the least. Definitely could qualify as a ‘Bad Mental State’. And… she also has felt a bit stressed about school and talks about her future. But if she knew herself was in a bad state, then that means–

“Then… are you okay?” Steph asked, realizing something. The boy froze, like actually froze when she said that. It was a trippy sight to see. “Will?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?” She tries again, a bit gentler this time. “Mentally?” Nothing. “Will–

“I… I’m fine.” 

And then he lets go of her hand and starts walking a bit quicker– not even realizing he was doing so. She stops, concern on her face. She wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction from a simple yes or no question. She makes a note for herself that when they do get out of here she’s going to have a talk with him (Or at least tell Joyce about her concerns).

She sighs. Always got to be the therapist, Henderson.

She takes a step to move but stops, her eyes trailing off the road to her right, right into the void of the trees. It was weird. She felt like someone was standing right there – The same kind of presence back at the clock tower. 

“Huh.” She turns her attention back in front of her, then proceeds to freak out a bit when she notices how far Will was. She cusses and breaks into a sprint to catch up quickly.

Completely unaware of who that presence really was. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve steps over the barricades, his feet sinking into the leaves. Curiosity got the best of him you could say, or maybe the conversation last night really was getting under his skin (Like he’ll ever admit that), but he found himself here. Standing at a… crime scene, I guess. 

Her car went off road with herself and the Byers boy in it. Not long afterwards, they ditched it. 

His brown orbs trailed from the tree the vehicle hit and down the long road. He also knows, from what he’s heard, they both ran back to the boy’s house and then the trail went cold after that. But that’s the part that tickled his brain a bit. 

Why run all the way back home, a place you’re probably the safest at, and then leave it? It didn’t make sense in his book. Hell, it shouldn’t make sense in anybody’s book. What was the urge for them to run away from home and into the thick woods that surrounds Hawkins? 

He rubbed his chin and started thinking like he was going to solve this or whatever. Like…

He then scoffs at himself. 

What the fuck am I even doing? What is he doing? Why did he drive himself here? It’s not like he should care anymore. I mean, he shouldn’t care anymore. His parents would have his head if they knew–

Then there it is again.

That strange feeling that someone’s watching him. 

He turns around, half expecting a cop to be there to scold him, the other half expecting nothing and– Oh! What do you know? It was nothing. 

But even if it was nothing, he swears someone is standing there, watching his every move. Almost like this presence was here to judge him and see what other stupid things he can do today.

It was definitely giving him the heebie-jeebies.

He frowns, and looks away. “What the fuck…?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It took her an hour, but Joyce got all the lights up. She strung them all through the house, up along the wall and hanging gently off the ceiling. She hopes that she’s not losing her mind – She knows how silly this looks; Putting up Christmas lights in November (I mean, the holiday’s not that far off but still). She was expecting some reaction to happen, some or maybe all of them would immediately start blinking; Instead, her doorbell rings and she’s met with Karen Wheeler.  

Not wanting to be rude, Joyce invited her and her youngest in. Karen pops in a casserole she made into the oven, sitting next to the worried mother and tries to see what state she was in.

Joyce chuckles nervously when her guest notices the festive decoration. “Will always loved Christmas, you know. So I thought if I... I put the lights up... I don’t know, he... I’d feel like he was home somehow.” She covers part of her face with her hand. “I-It’s silly, I-I know…”

Karen shakes her head. “No. No, it’s not silly.” She takes the other woman’s hand in hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. “How is Jonathan holding up?”

Joyce takes a deep breath. “You know, he’s good at taking care of himself. He always has been, you know? I…” She scoffs. “I mean, he thinks I’m losing my mind, but…”

“Joyce.” Karen says, softly. “I want you to know something. If you need anything, anything at all... Ted and I are here for you.”

This sentimental moment caused them both to become oblivious to the lights flickering on in the hallway, a walkway pointing towards Will’s room. The only one who didn’t miss it was Holly, who was now sliding off her chair to follow.

“Thank you.” Joyce said, sincerely. 

Karen smiles. “Okay.”

The two women continued to talk, Joyce even bringing up Mike’s feelings about the whole thing – and even wondered if Claudia and Dustin were okay too. Meanwhile, little Holly Wheeler watched the lights flickered on and off, guiding her to the bedroom. Her eyes watched in awe as the many, many lamps that were lingered around Will’s room turned off and on one-by-one in a symphony-like way.

She giggles and claps, excited to watch this “show”. Then…

They all stopped and the nightmare began. 

Her happiness starts to pool away as she hears a scary sound. She then turns white as a ghost when she notices one of the walls was moving and stretching out towards her.

Who knows what would have happened if Joyce hadn’t come in and grabbed Holly, handing her back to her mother. 

“She shouldn’t be here.” Joyce said, scared in both tone and facial expression. 

Karen didn’t notice the seriousness of her look as she apologizes, “Oh, I’m sorry. She’s quite the explorer these days.”

“Wait, did you see something?” The worried Byers brushes her off, and the little girl nods quickly. “What did... what did you see? Tell me. What did you see?”

“Joyce!” The blonde scolds, but she’s already being shooed away.

“Karen, thank you for the casserole, but I need you to leave.” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy tapped her foot repeatedly, impatiently waiting for the person to pick up the phone. “Come on, come on, come on…” She mumbled, gripping the payphone tight. “Come on–”

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

Oh, thank god. “Hi!” She says, eagerly. “Hi, uh, Ms. Holland, it’s Nancy.”

[ ‘Oh, Nancy, how are you?’ ]

“Good. I’m good. Um, I was just wondering, uh, is Barb there?”

[ ‘Mmm... No, she hasn’t come home yet.’ ]

“But she did come home, right? After the vigil?”

[ ‘No, she said she was staying with you last night.’ ] 

Shit. Nancy mentally scolds herself. “Right, yes. She did, sorry. I meant, did she come home this morning? I think she left some textbooks and she was gonna go pick them up.”

[ ‘Oh, um, no, I haven’t seen her.’ ]

“Do– do you know what? I just remembered... she’s at the library.”

[ ‘Nancy, will you please have her call me as soon as you find her?’ ]

“Yeah.” She shakes her head, frowning at how worried Barb’s mother was sounding. “Yeah, I will. Sorry to bother you.”

She hangs up the phone, frustrated. This wasn’t like Barb at all. In the past when they’ve had some disagreements, she’s never once disappeared like this. The only thing Barb’s ever done that was “extreme” was she did the silent treatment for most of the school day. 

This is so weird. This whole day’s been weird. She sighs and digs out some more change for the machine, and dials another number she knows by heart. The whole time as it rang she was nipping at the tip of her thumb. To her surprise, a voice she’s never heard before answered the phone.

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

The voice was a bit husky, but sweet with a pinch of sass. 

Nancy’s confused, and twirls the phone cord around her finger. “Oh, I’m sorry, who’s this?” She asked, wondering if she dialed the number wrong. “Is this the–”

[ ‘This is Jessica. How can I help you?’ ]

Jessica?

Jessica?

Jessica? Who’s…

Her eyes widened. 

Oh.

Now she recognizes the name. 

It was Steve’s mother – The woman she hasn’t met yet – The woman she’s “meeting” for the first time over the phone.

She swallows, nervously. “Oh, I-I’m… sorry. I was trying to get a hold of Steve.” She replies, feeling a bit awkward (and nervous?).

[ ‘Steven? And who are you to him?’ ]

Well she sounds lovely. She can hear the snobbishness in her tone, almost offended that someone was calling for her son. That’s a little weird.

“Um, I’m his girlfriend.” Nancy replies, trying to sound confident. “I was just wondering if he’s home? I haven’t seen him at school day and I’m a little worried.”

Then came the very long, very uncomfortable pause. For a second there she thought the mom hung up, it was so quiet.

[ ‘Girlfriend? That’s new. ]

“Did Steve not tell you about us?” Nancy asked, a bit hurt and a bit confused. He seemed so proud to show the whole school that they were dating, how come he never told his mother?

[ ‘What’s your name?’ ]

Skipping my question. I love it. “Um, Nancy. Nancy Wheeler, Ma’am.”

[ ‘Wheeler, you said?’ ]

“Um, yes.” Now she was puzzled even more. Was this a bad thing–

[ ‘That’s wonderful!’ ] 

Nancy blinks. “It… is?”

[ ‘My son’s dating a Wheeler! I almost can’t believe it.’ ]

And the woman was laughing with joy(?), which Nancy puts to the side. She just needs to get an answer to her own simple question. “That’s… wonderful, um… is Steve there?”

[ ‘No, he’s not. *Sigh* I swear if that boy’s skipping school, we’re going to have a problem.’ ]

And I think I just made everything worse. She straightens herself up, ready to end this. “Okay, Well… thanks, Mrs. Harrington, I’ll see if he’s maybe hiding out somewhere in the school.”

[ ‘Okay. Well, you have a good rest of your day, sweetheart.’ ]

Sweetheart? Nancy shakes her head again. “Thanks. You too.” She hangs up the phone. Well that was even weirder than the last one.

She crosses her arms, turning to head inside only her eyes to beeline to Carol and Tommy following someone closely – Tommy looking pissed off, especially. 

“What the heck?” She says, and hurries towards them.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper and his partner entered the library with an idea – an idea hanging on a very thin thread that is. So, he puts on his best smile and takes off his hat, strolling up to the woman at the desk. “Hey, Marissa. How you doin’?”

The librarian pursed her lips. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

He blinks. “What?”

“You could have at least called, said, ‘Marissa! Hey, it’s not gonna work out. Sorry I wasted your time. I’m a dіck’.”

Oh, now he remembers. “Yep.” He said, agreeing immediately. “I’m sorry. Uh... Maybe we could go out again next week?” She, and even Powell, made a face at him that gave him his answer. He smacks his lips and looks around. “Newspapers? You guys got newspapers around here?”

Marissa nods and shows them where they all are. “We have the New York Times, the Post, all the big ones. Organized by year and topic. You can find the corresponding microfiche in the reading room.”

“Okay, we’re looking for anything on the Hawkins National Laboratory.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be looking for that missing kid?”

“Yeah. We are.” Hopper pushes, and adds, “So, why don’t you start with the Times, and we’ll check out the Post.”

She scoffs in disbelief and walks off, Powell stepping up with a look on his face. “The librarian?” He said, getting a shrug.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy sped up when she saw who they were stalking in the parking lot. Why would two people like Tommy and Carol go after a kid like Jonathan Byers? Nothing that went through her mind would give her that answer. When she got closer is when it got more intense. 

Tommy was practically manhandling Jonathan, yelling and trying to take his bag away from him. The eldest Wheeler sped up even more, full on running now.

She manages to step between the two of them, arms out in defense. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“This creep was spying on us last night!” Tommy said, pointing furiously. “Nicole says he was taking pictures of us by the pool.”

“I was looking for my brother.” Jonathan replies, holding his bag close.

“Bullshit. Now let me see.”

“Back off!”

Nancy steps in between them again. “Tommy, stop!” She yells, making him scoff.

“You’re defending this creep, Wheeler?” Carol asked, in disgust.

“First of all, you really going to believe what Nicole said? The girl’s like the boy who cried wolf.”

“Nancy–”

“Lastly, so what if he has photos of us at the pool? It wasn’t like we’re naked.”

“Naked or not, he still took pictures of us!” Tommy snaps, taking a step closer as she takes a step back.

“Pictures or not, he was looking for his brother–”

“How do you know, huh? How?”

“Because he’s been hanging out missing poster signs of him and missing school because he’s the big brother.” Nancy looks over her shoulder, locking eyes with Jonathan. “Go.” He hesitates. “Go, man!”

Not wasting another opportunity, he hustles off towards his car. Tommy tries to lunge towards him, but Nancy isn’t letting up.

“What the fuck, Nancy?!” Tommy shouted, and she chose to ignore him by walking away once she knew Jonathan wasn’t around. “Nancy!”

“Nancy, get back here!” Carol yelled.

“Nancy, you such a fucking princess! Wait until your boyfriend hears about this!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Dude, I can’t believe you did that!” Lucas said, as they bike away from the school. “You know Troy and James are not going to let that slide.”

“I don’t care!” Dustin says, bitterly (and if he could cross his arms right now he would). “I don’t like when people bad mouth my friends, bad mouth my sister! I mean, for Christ’s sake, she was giving Will a ride home. What’s so bad about that?”

He doesn’t care if James’s waiting tomorrow to give him a wedgie, or Troy’s fist plummeting into his face, he doesn’t care. Both Will and Phanie had their fair share of bullying themselves, or whispers of derogatory names and speeches – All because Will was the “quiet kid” and wears “colorful” clothing; All because his sister wasn’t a “girly-girl” and a total nerd. He’s heard that all throughout his life, and sometimes he said something, sometimes he stays silent when told too – He probably should have done that today.

But those… fucking bullies just had to poke him when he was the most stress. Stressed out with each day that none of them had come home.

Jeez, he’s either going to get scolded or praised by his mother if she finds out about that interaction. 

“And don’t even try to convince me to beg them for forgiveness. They don’t deserve it and I’m standing my ground.” Dustin adds, shutting his friend up. As they rode closer and closer to their houses, he frowned, worriedly.

I just hope El knows what she’s talking about. He just wants to find them both soon (Safe and sound would be a plus).

The boys continued to ride until they arrived at the power lines behind the Wheelers’ house. Mike shouted and told the girl to hope on, warning all of them they only had a few hours to pull this off.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce was standing in her kitchen with a cigarette when Chester started barking. She looks up to see the lights in the living room start flickering, and hurries in there. As soon as she entered they died down. Then, slowly the light directly above her activated, and then made a pathway to the other side of the room. Her fingers laced around them, and followed, ending up being directed at a bundle of them lying on the floor.

She rushes to take them in her hands, sitting down and taking a deep breath. It was now or never to find out if she was really losing her mind or not. She closes her eyes, and whispers,

“Will... are you here?”

There was a brief pause followed by the ball lighting up and fading. She chuckles in excitement, completely over the moon with fresh tears in her eyes. 

“Okay, good, good, good, good. Are you…” How should she do this? “Um, blink once for yes, twice for no. C-Can y-you do that for me, sweetie? Can you do–” The ball lights up again just once as she feels a tear run down her cheek and hugs the object.

She can feel it in her bones, in her heart now. She knows this is her baby boy. She knows that her son is still with her.

Joyce smiles and sniffles. “Oh, good boy. Good boy. Okay, Will, um–” Another deep breath. “Is… Is Stephanie with you too?” 

One blink. The girl who was kind enough to pick up her son is still with him despite all this time. She can finally put some of that guilt away now.

“That’s wonderful news.” She said, her expression growing bigger. However, this was going to be the hardest question yet to ask. “Baby, I need to know…” She swallows. “Are you guys alive?”

One blink and her heart skips a beat. She thanks any God who’s listening for this.

Her lip quivers as she follows up with, “Are you guys safe?”

Two blinks.

Her son and Stephanie were not okay.

Now, Joyce was shaking like a leaf as she clenched the lights tighter, her mind running a mile a minute on what she can do. What could she say that wouldn’t revert to playing twenty questions four times over?

“I need to know where to find you two, honey. Where... where are you? Can you... can you tell me where you are? Can you…” She chokes, her cheeks completely stained. “Please, baby. I need to find you. Tell me what to do. Please just... Will…”

She didn’t know how long she sat there and cried, wondering what she could do for her baby, for Steph; But at some point a light bulb idea appeared. She suddenly found herself stringing some lights on the wall over her couch, a row of three, before popping open a can of black paint and began brushing letters on.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“How do we get my mom’s attention when we can’t see what she’s done?” Will asked after hours of walking back to his home, he was disappointed to find that his house still looks the same. I guess their theory about earlier was right–

This world was stuck on the day he and Steph got kidnapped by the beast.

The oldest walked around a bit, thinking. Unfortunately, despite all the lights Joyce bought, they can’t see any of them. “Did she put it in your room, maybe?” Stephanie thought, and wandered inside.

Nothing. Of course. The only thing she saw that was possibly different was some scratch marks on the wall, ones that would be too high for a dog to do.

She swallows and leaves, meeting the boy in the hallway. “Did you have scratches on your wall before?” Will gives her a weird look and shakes his head. She hums. “We got to find those lights quickly. I think that monster’s been lurking around here.”

They found themselves back in the living room, and started moving their arms around, squinting too to see if something would appear. All hope was starting to seem lost until her hand hits an object above, a glowing hue appears for a split second.

“Whoa…” Will said, in awe, and suddenly, they both swore they heard a dog barking. “Chester?”

Steph took this as a sign to keep going, hitting the same spot again before gently moving her hand along the imaginary line. She trails to the little cabinet against the wall, feeling around until she hits something that makes light.

Come on, Ms. Byers. Please tell me you’re home. The two of them waited anxiously, waiting for the woman to speak, waiting for–

.

|| Will... are you here? ||

.

Joyce’s voice broke through, breaking them.

“Mom.” Will breaths, coming down to sit on his knees. “What do I–”

“Start feeling around. Just like I did.” Steph said, coming to sit next to him. He nods again, keeping calm and feels around – His fingers touching something that made the hue appear again. “Perfect. Just like that.”

.

|| Okay, good, good, good, good. ||

.

“See?” Steph says, happily. “It’s working.”

“Mom.” Will says again, smiling. Now, they just have to stay silent and listen.

.

|| Are you… Um, blink once for yes, twice for no. C-Can y-you do that for me, sweetie? Can you do– || 

.

Of course they can. So Will reaches out and touches it once.

.

|| Oh, good boy. Good boy. Okay, Will, um– Is… Is Stephanie with you too? ||

.

One touch. Will is eternally grateful that he’s not alone in this scary place. 

.

|| That’s wonderful news – Baby, I need to know… ||

.

There’s a pause, and they hold their breaths.

.

|| Are you guys alive? ||

.

Their hearts clenched at how painful she sounded. 

His poor mother. I can only imagine what she must feel like. Steph thought, and touched his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort.

He touches the air with a shaky hand, trying not to beat himself up over how much his mother was suffering.

.

|| Are you guys safe? ||

.

They frown, and he touches the air twice.

I’m sorry, Mom. Will says, trying not to picture the state she was in after that answer.

.

|| I need to know where to find you two, honey. Where... where are you? Can you... can you tell me where you are? Can you… Please, baby. I need to find you. Tell me what to do. Please just... Will… ||

.

“Mom?” He croaked, after she went silent. “Mom?”

“Ms. Byers?” She said, worriedly.

“Mom, please… where did you–”

Then they heard the couch scrap across the floor, hitting the wall, followed by the sounds of hammering. 

“What is she doing now?” He asks, both of them standing and hearing the string lights she must have in her hands clink together, and move along the wall. “Why is she hanging up more lights?”

Although he was puzzled, Stephanie was not. She walks over to the couch, getting onto the cushions and feeling around, the hues returning when she hits a certain spot. She laughs blissfully.

“Oh, your mom’s a genius.” Steph said, with a huge smile on her face.

Will gives her a look. “I don’t get it.”

“Watch closely. See–” She touches a line of lights near the ceiling. “Eight.” Then the middle. “Nine.” Then the bottom. “Nine. It makes twenty-six. Your mom’s a freaking genius.”

“Still not getting it.”

“Don’t you see? She didn’t just hang up more lights–” Her smile grows, and soon will his. “It’s an alphabet wall.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy wasn’t sure what she was going to do. First Steve doesn’t come into school, and now no one knows where Barb is. She decides to kill two birds with one stone after school, and takes a drive over to the Harrington house. A quick driveby shows that her boyfriend’s car wasn’t there, so she figures he must have just skipped school because of last night’s disagreement. As for her best friend though, she couldn’t have said the same thing.

She slows down and parks directly behind Barb’s car, jogging over and taking a peek inside. Everything was the same, Barb’s purse was on the floor board, and the sweater she changed out of was laid in the seat. 

No. No way. She couldn’t believe this. If Barb didn’t drive home last night then where was she? She tried to come up with excuses, tried to make up ideas that would lead to her coming home without her car but…

Nothing made sense. 

She about cried on the way home, on the verge of a breakdown as she thinks only but the worst of the worst. 

“Hey!” Her mother calls out as she enters the house. “You’re home early! How was the game?” When her mother notices how quiet she was, it is when she meets her daughter halfway. “Nancy? What’s the matter?”

“I-It’s Barb.” Nancy croaks, shaking. “I think... something happened. Something terrible.” She hopes she’s just over exaggerating, but she doesn’t know about that.

She can’t shake off this dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“I don’t know, Chief.” Powell begins, really on the fence about all that they read.

“What don’t you know?” Hopper asked, confused.

“This lady, Terry Ives, sounds like a real nut to me. Her kid was taken for LSD mind control experiments? She’s been discredited. Claim was thrown out–”

Hopper sighs. “Okay, forget about her. Take a look at this.” He slides over a newspaper clipping he printed out. The headline said: ‘MK ULTRA EXPOSED’. He points to a familiar face in the picture. “Dr. Martin Brenner.”

“Who?”

“Brenner. He runs Hawkins Lab.”

“Okay…”

Hopper sits back in his chair with disbelief and scoffs. “You don’t find that interesting?”

“Not really.” Powell said, with a shrug. “He was involved in some hippie crap back in the day, so what?” 

“No, this isn’t hippie crap. This is CIA-sanctioned research.”

“Doesn’t mean he had anything to do with our kids.”

“Come on. Look at that.” Hopper points to the other people in the picture. “Hospital gowns. All of ‘em. Now, that piece of fabric that the teacher found by the pipe. That sure looked like a hospital gown to me, huh? Am I wrong?”

“I don’t know, Chief.”

“Come on, man. Work with me here. I’m not saying that there’s some grand conspiracy–” (You sure about that?) “I’m just…” He sighs, exhausted. “I’m saying maybe something happened. Maybe Will and Stephanie were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they saw something that they shouldn’t have.”

Powell makes a face. “It’s a reach.”

“It’s a start.” 

Before more could be said, Powell’s radio goes off, and Callahan starts speaking.

[ ‘Hey, Powell, is the chief with you?’ ] 

Hopper wastes no time to reach over and take the radio off his partner’s shoulder, answering it, “Hopper here. What do you got?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys follow Eleven through the woods, the sun finally setting, slowly engulfing them in darkness if it wasn’t for the lights on their bikes. To everyone’s shock and confusion, she had brought them to a familiar place.

She turns around and faces them, replying, “Here.”

Mike gives her a look. “Yeah, this is where Will lives.”

“Hiding.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, this is where he lives. He’s missing from here. Understand?”

“What are we doing here?” Lucas asked, dropping his bike in annoyance. 

“She said he’s hiding here.”

“Um…” He looks around. “No!”

Now it was Dustin’s turn to look annoyed. “I swear, if we walked all the way out here for nothing–”

“That’s exactly what we did. I told you she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about!”

Mike sighs and looks at her. “Why did you bring us here?”

“Mike, don’t waste your time with her.” Lucas replies, fed up and tired.

“What do you want to do then?”

“Call the cops, like we should have done yesterday.”

“We are not calling the cops!” 

“Hey, guys?” Dustin says, something catching his attention. 

“What other choice do we have?” Lucas yells again. 

“Guys!” He snaps, drawing their attention to the police cars rushing by, followed by an ambulance. Their sirens were blaring loudly, and were heading in a direction they all knew where it led to.

A dreadful feeling came to all of them instantly. 

“Oh no…” Mike whispers.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie wrote on the wall with a marker the best she could, drawing the alphabet in each row. They couldn’t see the lights or the letters Joyce probably scribbled on too, but they could make do with what they had.

“This should probably help, right?” 

“Definitely.” Will agrees with a nod.

“Good.” She smacks her hands together. “Alright, come on Mrs. Byers, talk to us. Ask us some questions.”

“Come on, Mom.”

They waited and waited, until they finally heard her speak.

.

|| Okay. Okay, baby, talk to me. Talk to me. Where are you guys? ||

.

“What should we say?” Will asked, as he climbed onto the couch.

“Uh…” What could they say? “Here! Right Here. Tell her that.”

“Okay.”

Will Reached up and started touching right above each letter, listening – His mother repeating back whatever he touched.

.

|| ‘R’. Good, good, good, good. That’s good. Come on, come on. ‘I..  G... H... T... H... E... R... E…’.‘Right here’. ||

.

Stephanie frowns, worriedly. Yeah, I know it doesn’t make any sense but it’s true.

“Come on, Mom. Understand. Please.” Will begged, quietly.

.

|| ‘Right here’? I… I-I don’t know what that means. I need you to tell me what to do. What should I do? How do I get to you guys? How do I find you? What should I do? ||

.

“Um…” Will looks over at the teenager. “What should we tell her?”

Steph’s mouth opens and closes quickly. What do they tell her if they’re not even sure what this place is? “Fuck… um…” She scratches her head. “How about–”

. “I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.” .

The vicious voice seemed to spread itself around the house like a disease making the hair on their necks stand, and a chill ran up their spines. And then all the supposed “dead” electricity started going off, turning the whole house into a light show; Radios and TVs started going frantic; Fans turning on and spinning around too.

Will starts looking around all disoriented. “Steph, what’s going on?” 

“I–” She gasps as she hears the infamous growl in the distance, then the sound of the beast trying to bust through the wall behind her. “Will!!”

The boy frantically writes something out of his mother, just as the monster’s claw broke through the house. Steph takes a quick shot to stun it enough for them to run out the back door – From there, they were off running into the forest.

Again. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce set the brush down, her alphabet wall was done and ready to use. She takes a few steps back so she can see the whole thing, and rubs her hands impatiently.

“Okay.” She breathes, mentally preparing herself. “Okay, baby, talk to me. Talk to me. Where are you guys?” It takes only a second for a letter to appear. “‘R’. Good, good, good, good. That’s good. Come on, come on. ‘I..  G... H... T... H... E... R... E…’.‘Right here’.”

What? 

That doesn’t make sense. What do they mean they’re right here?

“‘Right here’?” She says again, puzzled. “I… I-I don’t know what that means. I need you to tell me what to do. What should I do? How do I get to you guys? How do I find you? What should I do?”

She sees the light flicker again, and waits to see what they spell. Slight spoiler…

It was not what she expected them to say.

They were letters that were going to take her breath away.

R

U 

N 

And then all the lights in the house turned on and flickers rapidly, a sound of growling coming from behind. Scarcely, she turns to find something trying to crawl out of her wall. Terrified to even scream or speak, she starts to back away towards the door as a beast breaks through the wallpaper and hisses. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys biked faster and faster, trying to catch up to the emergency vehicles, fearing the worst was yet to come. Just like they suspected, they ended up right at Sattler Quarry.

Meanwhile, Hopper was shaking, praying that what Callahan told him was not true. He arrives at the scene to find paramedics going deep into the water, two stretchers trailing behind. He doesn’t even know if he parked the car or not as he rushes out; A terrible, terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He runs and blends into the crowd of firemen, waiting (im)patiently for their findings. 

“Oh, Jesus.” He mutters, trying so hard to keep his composure. “Oh, God. Please tell me it’s not the kids.”

The boys and El hid behind a truck, hearts in their throats as they watched as a waterlogged body of a boy was being loaded on the stretcher – soon followed by a larger female.

As soon as he saw the clothes, as soon as he saw the color of their hair, Hopper knew he was too late. Not wanting to break down right there and scream, he turns away and heads to his car. How in the world was he going to be able to tell Joyce and Claudia about this? How was he going to tell them that he failed to save their children after they begged him to? What could he have done differently to change this atrocious outcome?

The boys were shaking their heads from afar, not wanting to believe what they’re seeing. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. It has to be! They can’t really be–

“It can’t be them.” Mike choked, shaking his head. “It can’t be.”

“It’s Will and Steph.” Lucas says, lips quivering. Both boys were a mess, almost coming undone, but Dustin…

Oh, Dustin.

He felt like he was about to faint.

“Phanie…?” He whispers, taking a step back while holding his head. No. No. No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No– No! This can’t be real! This can’t be! She can’t be–

“It’s really them.” Lucas said, after getting another look once the bodies were brought back to shore. Tears were in his eyes, and they were ones he wasn’t even going to try to hide like he normally would.

Same thing goes with Mike, who was hugging himself, and sobbed. His best friend was gone. A girl that was like a sister to him was gone. He just couldn’t… wait. “Dustin?” He begins, looking over his friend who seemed so far away from this world.

It was a scary look, enough for even El to get scared and worried. She reached out to him, to comfort him; She even muttered his name for the first time.

To everyone’s surprise, he slaps her hand away.

“‘Dustin’? ‘Dustin’, what?!” He snaps, hatefully. “You were supposed to help us find them alive. You said my sister was alive?! Why did you lie to us?” He points at her, scaring her again. “What’s wrong with you? What is wrong with you?!” 

Eleven stays quiet, not even sure what to say from his outburst.

“Say something! Give me an answer, damn it!” He yells, as Lucas and Mike take a step closer.

“Dustin–” Mike tries, but the boy shakes his head and backs away.

“Screw this! Fuck everything!” Dustin turns around and grabs his bike, his friends ushering him to calm down before taking off. But whatever they say wasn’t going to be enough. The Henderson was practically up the hill when they finished their speech, and wasn’t planning on slowing down no matter what happens.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, not too far down the road, Joyce was running for her life – running whatever that thing was that crawled out of her wall. She was so scared that she didn’t even realize a car was coming towards her. Luckily, it stopped mere inches away, causing her to scream.

“Mom?” Jonathan says as he gets out. “Mom, what happened?” His mother couldn’t speak, only reaching out to grab her son and hold on to dear life. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.” 

But everything is not okay. Far from it. 

Because in the distance, police were coming to inform them of the unfortunate news of their son and brother.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve slips through the sliding door in the back of his house since it was much quieter. He really didn’t feel like facing his parents just yet, and he knows this is around the time at night where they sit around with a glass of wine/beer and watch their shows. He’ll just see and deal with them in the morning, and hopefully they don’t notice any signs that there was a party last night.

He walks lightly across the floors, his mind set to go for the stairs which was going to be a bit tricky since they do tend to creak in some spots. A quick look into the living room he finds his dad on the couch, and his mother standing up but facing the opposite way. 

Perfect. He thought and made his move just as his mother’s voice broke through.

The black, wavy haired and brown eyed woman was pacing around a bit, clearly upset about something – or someone to be exact. 

“The boy was skipping school today, Richard. Can’t you believe that? How is suppose to keep up his grades?” 

Steve had to hold back from groaning as he eye rolled. Here she goes again. He chooses to ignore it, and is about to when he hears the next thing.

“If it wasn’t for his girlfriend calling we would have never known.”

He froze as soon as his foot touched one of the steps. Nancy called? 

His girlfriend actually called the house? She was actually calling because she was wondering where he was at? Even after their fight? He could smile because it warms his heart that she cares, but he was also devastated that his mother was the one to pick up the phone. He hasn’t even told–

“On the bright side, he’s dating a Wheeler. A Wheeler! You know what her father does for a living, right?” She chuckles with excitement. “It’s perfect. I can almost cry.”

And here comes another eyeroll. See this is why he didn’t bother mentioning this girlfriend this time around to his mother. He knew once she found out who her family was it was going to be a game changer. 

Jesus, Christ. He can’t wait to see what’s in store for him in the morning.

“Well, it beats the other choices he’s had in the past.” His father said, pouring salt into old wounds and making him shake his head.

These freaking people, man. I swear. Steve starts to go up the stairs when he hears another voice; This time it was on the TV.

. < In Other words– breaking news. The bodies of some local children, William Byers and Stephanie Henderson have been found. > .

He froze again, this time more rigid and cold.

No.

No, he didn’t just hear that right.

No, his mind’s just playing tricks on him because of last night…

Right?

. < The children have been missing since the 6th, and local authorities and it’s volunteers worked many hours to bring them home, only for it to end in a tragedy. >  .

“About fucking time.” Charles said, raising his beer with joy. “Damn weirdo. I guess our worries about her hanging out with our son again are put to rest.”

Jessica sighs with relief. “Thank God for that. I was tired of seeing her face everywhere.”

“Amen to that.”

He listened to his parents laugh, and clink their drinks together as the world started to spin around him.

No.

No.

This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t–

He’s not sure how much noise he made, or if he made any, but Steve was out the door again in a split second – running straight for his car where he’ll speed off to the unknown parts of Hawkins.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin stumbles inside his house, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Maybe it was necessary ‘cause it got his mother’s attention. She came from the other room, asking what’s going on as he stares at her with a red face and puffy eyes, cheeks stained with tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“Dustin? What’s wrong?” 

He felt like something was wrapped around his vocal cords, and there was a knife sticking into his chest, and there was something hot poking at his lungs. He has to speak. He has to tell her. It’s better if she knows from his lips rather than a man in blue. 

“Dustin?” She tries again, getting closer.”

“M-Mom…” He begins, his whole body starting to tremble. “St-Stephanie… sh-she’s… she’s…” Oh, god. Why can’t he freaking say it?

“She’s what?” Claudia asked, worriedness creeping up onto her features.

“Sh-She’s… she’s gone.” He whispers into a sob. “Th-They found them both in… I-In the quarry.” Another sob. “Th-They’re b-both gone. M-Mom. St-Stephanie’s gone…”

And then his mother started to shake her head and said ‘No’, followed by Dustin’s reassurance. This went back and forth for who knows how long, but it ended with Claudia being in the same state as her son – a hobbling mess.

“I-It’s true…” He gasps. “I-I saw it my-myself. They’re r-really b-both gone.” And then he broke down again, this time in her arms. She holds him tight, trying to be the strong one here. 

“Shh, baby, we’ll get through this.” She soothes, rubbing the curls on the back of his neck. Her son grips onto her clothes, burying his head into her chest and lets out never ending gasps for air.

“Mommy…” He choked, as his ears picked up on the sirens in front of his house.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve’s surprised the gas pedal hasn’t gone through the floorboard yet with how much force he’s applying. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, doesn’t even know if he’s hit something, or runs a red light, but he does know that he’s not anywhere near the speed limit. 

The news story was still playing around in his head and it was certainly not helping the situation. 

. < From the looks of it, the poor children had plummeted into the quarry and ended up drowning with possible hypothermia. But the mystery still remains on why these two disappeared in the first place. Hopefully, the police can find the answer to that, and bring some closure to the grieving families. > < Hopefully so, Liz. I can only imagine what they’re going through right now. > < Everyone here at WCPK would like to give our condolences. And we advise everyone watching to give a moment of silence for the children. > .

Steve slams on the breaks, the wheels spinning and making an awful sound as he stops along one of the abandoned roads in the town. He starts breathing heavily, which slowly turns into panting. His heartbeat was in his ears, his throat tight and dry, his brown eyes starting to gloss over.

“Fuck…” He whispers, in disbelief. No matter how many times he thinks this is a dream, thinks that maybe they were wrong and it was two other kids they found, his guts tells him ‘No’ and ‘This is real’. 

“Fuck…” He says again, the pain was slowly turning into anger which eventually led to him banging on every surface in his car. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!”

Stephanie Henderson was dead. The girl he knew since five was dead. The girl he made promises with was dead. The girl who was there for him at his every low was dead. The girl who was the only one to make him really laugh and smile was dead.

The girl he had to give up to protect was dead.

Stephanie Henderson… The girl that was his friend.

No.

Screw that! 

He didn’t want to make that choice but he had to.

The girl that is, and will always be, his friend is dead.

She was just supposed to keep moving on in her life, she was just supposed to keep hating him until she completes her dreams. She was supposed to stay in Hawkins and pretend not to know him until her dream life opens up and whisks her away. 

She was supposed to be alive and safe. 

She wasn’t supposed to be dead at the bottom of a quarry with a boy she offered to protect.

Everything he did to make sure she lived was now pointless.

Now, tears rolled down his face, his hands trembling and his lower lip quivered. Every emotion he kept locked up from their old friendship had returned and it was eating him away, tearing him bit by bit, suffocating him till he turned blue.

He still couldn’t believe it. He wishes he could blink and reality would reveal it was just another dream. 

He knows it won’t be like that. It never will be. So instead…

.

.

.

.

Steve found himself screaming until his throat ran raw.

(TBC)

A/N: Did I emotionally destroy all of you enough? I apologize a bit if so...

~~~

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

@mirkwoodshewolf @sadbitchfangirl @olivewisp

@emsownuniverse @unspecifiedvisitor @smaryamsstuff @kitty49646 @jinxeee @bookkeeperlove

[h3llenwrites]

Hi hi! Hope your having a nice day

How about our favorite radio host with a reader who owns a newspaper company in hell. They were a reporter when they were alive. They are investigating some of Vox's business and ends up running into Alastor?

Surprisingly I got enough motivation to write again so eat up

Alastor x Reader :

Platonic? Romantic? idk tbh. Just reader and Alastor working together to mess with Vox.

As someone who shares the latest news in hell, owning a newspaper company and all, you couldn't help but peep into the Vee's business. Something about them ultimately seemed unnerving, so naturally, every so often you would be prying at any information and bringing it back to your collection immediately. You often noticed Vox "convincing" his little crowd that gathers everytime he would step out of the comforts of his office, Running the other way when he starts to walk to your direction. Sometimes you would get caught writing your gathered info in the little journal you carry around with you, but you always put it away before Vox sees; Not like he could understand the handwriting anyway. (LISTEN HAVING TO WRITE DOWN A LOT OF INFO IN MERE SECONDS BEFORE HAVING TO BOOK IT FROM THE SOURCE IS GONNA GET YOU BAD HANDWRITING) When these occurences happen, you were lucky enough that he didn't think much of it, even though he noticed you a few steps behind the audience who were so glad to see him often.

You were collecting more information a few days after the last attempt where Big Ol' TV Man actually understood your handwriting and is now VERY wary of your presence. It didn't help that there were cameras everywhere either, you can barely avoid his watching gaze and it frustrated you that you hadn't been able to get anything from Vox or the other Vees since he probably warned them about your watching eye. Alastor was taking a stroll around hell heading to cannibal town, but ever so often pissing off Vox by destroying his cameras or glitching them and disconnecting the TVs that displayed on the stores. Luckily for you, the Radio Demon was headed your way and before Vox could check if you were peeping on him, Alastor had made his way in front of the camera and broke it. Vox cursed in his seat, choosing to get out either way so he can have a 'lovely talk' with the red deer. The commotion got more lively once Vox had stepped out. You smiled to yourself, getting your pen, paper, and camera ready. He did something quite unexpected today. Instead of standing there and giving off his usual speech, he quickly said some promotional shit and let off a light that would distract his crowd and he ran off, searching for the deer and cursing when Alastor was no where in sight. He was so distracted by getting revenge on his little enemy that he hadn't paid you any mind and dismissed the fact that he should've checked if you were present first. Naturally, you were overexcited. I mean you just got some worthy ass information about Vox, so naturally, you ran back to your work place as fast as you could. On the way there, you bumped into Alastor.. oh unfortunate soul. You were hurrying quite quickly, causing the both of you to fall on the dirty pavement below. You were processing what just happened, still a bit dizzy but you already picking up your items that you've dropped. You didn't think of the other person until you were done caring for yourself and suddenly you heard the sound of radio static. You gulped and hoped for the best, but of course, who else could it be? The moment you looked up, your eyes were met with Alastor's. Was he pissed? Please please.. "My apologies.. I uh-" You were quickly cut off by his cheery voice. "Nonsense, Darling! Say, Why are you in such a rush?" He noticed you earlier, seems you piqued his interest. "Um, Well I was just.. doing some research..?" He lifted his eyebrow, wide grin still present as always. "Hmm? Doing some research hiding behind a building?"

"Well I-" He picked up a paper you'd left, or rather used his abilities to make it appear in his hand. "Information on Vox Tech," He read the title on your paper aloud. "Oh! That's mine! haha.." You quickly grabbed it from his hands and stuffed it in your notebook. "It was.. lovely meeting you Mr. Uh.. Radio Demon..!" "Alastor." "Alastor! Right! ..I'd better get going." You quickly walked away, retreating to your place of comfort. He stared at you before continuing to make his way to Cannibal Town. A few days later, you still couldn't get Vox to come out, So you looked for something else to investigate on for a bit before returning. You were looking at some posters around hell when the 'Pointless Happy Hotel' or so was said, caught your attention. The Princess of Hell's beliefs for redemption was intriguing to you, so you grabbed a pen, a notebook and a camera, then headed to the hill where this hotel was located, having absolutely no idea the Radio Demon was there. After a few minutes of constantly avoiding violent sinners trying to behead anyone who passes by, Several explosions and Horny demons, You were at the front door. You cleaned yourself off and knocked. Charlie opened the door, a very bright smile on her face. "Hello! Welcomee~ To the Hazbin Hotel!~" She said in a sing-song voice. "Hi!-" You could barely speak before getting cut off by getting dragged into the lobby. "This is the lobby! That's the bar, the bartender over there is Husk. That's Niffty, she's our housekeeper! Oh! And that is.." The Princess ranted about the hotel, introducing you to the staff, patrons and giving you a tour. You kept trying to interrupt her, saying that you were only going to be staying for a few days maybe weeks for some research for your newspaper, You didn't get a chance to tell her until she reached Alastor's room to introduce you to him. "Actually, I'll only be staying for research to put on my newspaper.. Is that alright?" Charlie blinked before smiling again. "Oh! That's alright! Still glad for you to be staying here! Anyway, Let me introduce you to my.. Business partner I guess you could say?.." You tilted your head in confusion before she knocked and a shadow formed into the Radio Demon. You froze. "This is Alastor!" He turned his attention to you. "Ah, Yes. Pleasure to be meeting you, dear! Quite the pleasure. How is that research project on the Vees of yours going?" You nervously chuckled before answering him. "Quite alright, I suppose! Although.. I decided to investigate on something new since there had been no progress in the past week."

"I see! And what is this new project of yours about?"

"The hotel.."

"Hm! Well, I can certainly help with your research!"

"Research? Which one?"

"Why, both of course!"

"And why.. are you telling me this?" Alastor's grin grew wider. "Oh nothing, really. The topic of your little project just intrigued me is all!"

You accepted his help of course. The both of you work together to document the things you've gathered. He's honestly just helping out for fun. The relationship between the two of you grows (You can think of it as Platonic or Romantic, Idk I don't judge) and he sometimes has you with him, broadcasting the latest news, seated next to him while reading from your newspaper in his Radio Tower. He also often visits you while you're producing new info to feed the public. His favorite part of helping you gather info about the Vees is destroying Vox's cameras :)

A/N: This.. is sort of shorter than I intended it to be. I lost my ideas halfway through writing this because I thought of Alastor with a reader who has a bakery and he visits often or Alastor with wife reader who owns a bakery and she brings him baked goods. Should I write that?

[gothamnewsnetwork-official]

But what did the specialist have to say about Bruce Wayne's fursona???

Opinion Hour - Bruce Wayne’s fursona

The opinions voiced in this article may not reflect the opinions of the journal

Hello Gothamites, I have returned once again to discuss another fursona of the Wayne’s. In my previous article (see post here) I had referenced the fact that Bruce Wayne (see related articles), Gotham’s resident billionaire, has a fursona (see related articles).

This is an undisputed fact, Mr. Wayne saying so himself, but I am back by popular demand to further analyze this case.

Bruce Wayne ( @officialbruciewayne ) has spoken of his opinions on fursona’s multiple times (see related posts), stating his connection to the concept and his enjoyment of furry culture (see related articles).

This comes as little surprise given his son, Dick Grayson’s ( @notnotnightwing ) (see related articles), connection to the furry community (see related posts), his general demeanour, and the fact that he may be dating the most famous (and infamous) furry of all time; Batman ( @darkknightofficial ) (see related articles).

Back to his fursona design and characterization, Mr. Wayne debuted his fursona on the 27th of July this year. He states that the character and him share many characteristics, such as his scars.

From a design standpoint, this reporter finds it to be rather simple. A wolf anthro (see related articles) is fairly common, and given its lack of clothing the only truly unique features are its scars.

That being said, Mr. Wayne’s reasoning for choosing a wolf as the base is rather sweet, as he stated that it was due to him and wolves both being predominantly focused on family.

In other words, it is very well drawn, and I would like to commend the artist on their work.

I was, once again, able to reach out to an expert on fursona design and psychology (see related articles) to take their opinion on the matter. Their statement reads as follows -

“ Simplistic, standard. Art’s good but design is basic, nothings wrong it’s just boring.

It’s giving twitter artists barely censored commissions but that can’t really be helped with a base design. Would appreciate if someone gave it clothes.

..nice ass though. 7/10 for the art and building ability. ”

This reporter is inclined to agree, given that the designs simplicity does give it a vast advantage in regard to clothing and accessories.

Given that this is a base model and was commissioned, it is relatively difficult to determine when Mr. Wayne became a furry, though we can suspect it was far earlier than his son did.

This does bring up further questions surrounding the possibility of a secret society of billionaire furries (see related articles) that run the world, but that is a topic for an investigative journalist and not myself.

As for Mr. Grayson and his newly updated fursona, we would still rate it a 5/10, just with slightly better clothing.

Once again I’d like to thank Gotham Reports for allowing me to publish this article, and urge anyone who has any more information on this topic to come forward.

Let us know your thoughts on the topic (here)

Gotham Reports is certified in unbiased, fair, and reliable journalism

[mamawasatesttube]

So i was just rotating your "Jack drake lives au" in my mind and at the same time remembered those panels of superman shaking hands with Some Fucking Guy (i think he was being a bitch to Lois or smth) and he makes direct unflinching eye contact with the tight lipped smile and his grip is a little too tight to be friendly

Anyways im not saying he hates Jack but i do think Kon off-handedly mentioned the "joke" about his nail polish and Clark went "oh really now?" And didnt forget

So rip Jack at that family dinner night bc not only is Lois waiting for an excuse to obliterate him but Clark is right there with her and if jack thinks that Good Ol Country folk Ma and Pa will back him up then hes in for a surprise lol

oh yeah absolutely!!!! the thing is. literally Nobody likes jack in this au ksjdhfkd like kon and dick absolutely have texted each other to bitch about him, ma openly shakes her head when she hears about how he treats tim (and she WILL speak her mind if he ever tries to shut that sweet boy down in front of her!), cass literally won't speak to him bc he failed the vibe check so bad, etc...

and like. no one is telling tim this. they Know it'll make him feel like he has to defend his dad bc he loves him! but sometimes tim mentions oh he can't join for games this friday night, he and his dad are going on an early morning fishing trip. and cass just meets kon's eyes across the room behind tim's back and rolls her eyes so hard.

but yeah. clark will mostly let lois handle the obliteration with ma's backup as needed bc he knows she's got this. his form of expressing his severe disapproval of jack, his views, and his parenting? supporting tim. thanking him for doing the dishes after dinner, praising his work ethic, ruffling his hair and telling him he did a great job with that case he wrapped up last week, etc. it makes tim go "!!! :D!!!" like that pic of the cat getting patted. tim has always craved approval and affirmation and affection from people around him and he gets it in spades from the kents. and jack sees his son light up and open up around these people way more than he does with him. it's not a good feeling.

it's just tough bc like, tim doesn't want anyone getting mad at jack. but the idea of anyone getting mad at jack on his behalf is also just such a shock to him. he's not used to that. he feels like he has to manage jack and be responsible for him in a lot of ways (if jack says something shitty in front of lois, tim cringes because now jack is gonna get his ass handed to him and feel humiliated, and that's his dad and he was trying to help, and also he feels like it's on him that his dad is being like that. why? oh you know.) (its the unnamed emotional abuse, thats why.)

but also clark and kon watch lois ask tim how his degree is going now that he's in engineering school, and lightly rib him and ask if she can't poach him into investigative journalism instead, because she doesn't usually take interns but she'd make an exception! and tim cocks his head like a dog and says well, maaaybe he'd be down to consider an internship if she's serious? it does sound cool. what are the details? and jack, who barely gets more than one-word answers when he talks to tim about his future, is just kinda seething. heart rate goin up bc hes mad. and kon and clark just exchange extremely amused glances across the kitchen and sip their hot chocolates.

like the tim and jack dynamic is complicated; it'd be a lot easier if the love wasn't so real but it is present. its just that jack is soooo emotionally immature and grounded in Classic American Manhood and ideas of fatherhood. and the fact that tim is growing beyond that and not fitting in the mold he's "supposed" to eats at him. its a tragedy but also we are all pointing and laughing at jack every time superfam make him grind his teeth.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 9 thoughts

whew! i had a busy day so it's nice to unwind with some scully and mulder time. although by the end of the episode i didn't feel very unwound tbh. it was still time spent with the babygirls, so i can't complain.

so we start with some volcano research. my only note here was "i know a geologist" which is true! shoutout to my one professor. you were chill but i hated that class.

there's a dead guy in the volcano which tbh doesn't seem too surprising... i mean volcanoes are very deadly. but it seems to be one of the dudes involved with the project so that's weird because why would he go down there?

there's this stream going on of the inside volcano and something is disrupting it... hate to see a streamer interrupted :(

then we had the title sequence but for some reason i was wondering, do you think if they got married they'd hyphenate their names... scully-mulder... mulder-scully... does it roll off the tongue? hmm...

so firewalker (the title of our episode) is a robot that goes into the volcano. noted.

here i wrote "holy fuck scully is beautiful". all she was doing was standing there but man.

the scientist who has come to them requesting help is like, this lead scientist named trepkos started this project, and scully says "i always heard he was brilliant", which raises the question: why is scully keeping up with volcano science? nerd

at this point the visiting scientist was explaining how he and trepkos had a professional breakup kinda thing and i'm very sorry for them but i genuinely could not take my eyes off of scully. hope they work it out or whatever. i have bigger priorities.

she wants to get out there and investigate but mulder says "i don't think it's a good idea for you to go" AUGHHH. i am wailing and tearing my shirt. she says that she's fine!!! really!!!

and he has this look on his face that says "i cannot tell this woman what to do, even after she just woke up from a coma, and i never will be able to" and he's very right in that regard

HELICOPTER TIME! mulder is such a gentleman helping her climb out

she has very messy hair at this point and the scientist seems a lot more concerned about his equipment than the fate of the people trapped inside the compound and she seems so thrown off by this

next we have some BIG ASS FLASHLIGHTS!!!! WOOHOO

at this point i made a note that i think i might have been going feral because mulder also looked SO good prowling around that creepy base. and i don't take back my observation but i will psychoanalyze it a bit later. reluctantly.

a creepy dude is hanging around the corner. OH SHOOT he tries to bash mulder's head in and he is MAD "do you always greet people this way?" LMAOOO he took it personally

the other scientists in the base seem to regard the missing trepkos as a threat... hmm...

i really like this jesse character, who is a student and is here to do some research with her advisor

mulder asks for the data on the research trepkos has been doing and she says he destroyed his field journals and computer discs. ahh, computer discs. my old friends. i used to have some games on discs when i was a kid. positive memories.

mulder sees scribbled in some of the notes trepkos didn't destroy that he had written about a "new life form" which honestly kinda happens a lot. like people are always discovering new life forms but the gag is they're beetles. everyday we find new species of beetle. they just won't stop coming. so i'm thinking, well they wanted this to be all dramatic, but statistically it's probably just a volcano beetle this guy found.

mulder and scully have an exchange and again i'm distracted by her freckles but she says he's being paranoid and i'm like. yeah that's kinda his whole deal. mulder being paranoid is like a fork spotted in the kitchen.

so the other scientist who was checking on his equipment was, at this point, killed by trepkos. with a rope. and we get the great closed captions "(neck cracks) (body thuds on ground)" which were very descriptive of the whole process

mulder and scully are having a science based argument on the probability of a silicon-based life form and it was really funny to me because it was a nerd off. and frankly i wouldn't go into a science debate with a doctor but mulder is going full steam ahead. it's getting heated and i'm like damn does this ever lead to them kissing because i can see it happening. anyway she's like no trepkos did not discover a silicon-based life form (spoiler alert: he did)

he's looking around like damn. i'm glad she's back but she's such a pain in my ass <3

scully goes to talk to jesse by knocking on her door and asking to chat and then not waiting for an answer and coming in because that is my girl!!!

jesse says trepkos stopped taking his pills that treat his bipolar disorder and he started being weird, saying they polluted his mind and that she was "polluting his body" which has... implications i prefer not to think about?

(why must we make erotic the bond between a student and their thesis advisor? there is no stronger connection! but. not in this way, tv writers, not in this way. i mean Maybe it wasn't meant that way but it seemed like it was)

mulder is streaming the descent into madness of trepkos because he recorded his ramblings which is probably what my friends on my private story think each time i post. but he's going on about finding a silicon-based life form.

this whole time one of the scientists has been very noticeably coughing and losing his voice and i knew it was gonna go somewhere but all of a sudden he collapses. and mulder yells for scully who is undergoing her shift to Doctor Mode. but we see his neck... pulsate? is that the best word to describe it? augh i don't want to even think about it so we'll leave it there

(jesse was also looking super suspicious but i liked her...)

anyway they put the sick guy on a stretcher and he's down and out until he isn't, and now he's making a RUN for it. he runs and runs and falls in a ditch until a THING takes over his body and explodes. i thought it was a worm at first and it was sososo gross i started sweating. i do not like body horror. the things i endure for these two.

so scully's doing some testing and she's like, yeah this is a silicon-based fungus. and poor jesse is having a nervous breakdown because she has been in this base for 8 months and she just wants to go HOME but now they have to quarantine and i felt so bad for her.

then i remembered the line about her "polluting his body" and things were adding up... and they were NOT looking good for her... no... i cannot do this...

scully's really worried about jesse which is justified because this poor girl is freaking out. but mulder is really worried about scully! he wants to go look for trepkos and he's making excuses why she shouldn't come and finally settles on the need to autopsy the body which he seems to both genuinely believe and also say to keep her back at the base

she knows he's being protective so she says "i'm here and i'm not going anywhere" which is sweet but girl you were in a coma. they had your gravestone made. you are lucky he has not put you in bubblewrap entirely. you can't blame the man for needing you to be safe!!!!

he says he's counting on her and grabs her shoulder with some heavily lingering eye contact that, when i see in gif form, i will surely slam the reblog button upon because. good lord.

jesse is talking to the other guy and he says something like "do what we said" and i'm thinking oh man, they're gonna try to get mulder (spoiler alert: they did not quite do that)

the guy is like "you need a guide to go get trepkos" and i'm even MORE suspicious but his reasoning kind of does make sense- it is a volcano maze, after all- still, when mulder goes with him i was tense

BUT THEN he immediately gets shot with a FLARE GUN? which i did NOT see coming. and trepkos emerges from the back of the volcano caves all burned and wild-looking.

he's covering the newly dead body with gasoline and mulder's asking why he's trying to kill him twice when we see the parasite wriggle in his neck (GAG) so then he shoots him with ANOTHER flare to burn up the evil creature. and he's explaining how if you're exposed to the parasite's spores you're gonna be sick...

and scully is back at the base with jesse... who was exposed... so she's not going to be safe...

and we see jesse in her room gagging and convulsing... oh man... it's not looking good....

trepkos is not letting mulder leave, but mulder does not give a fuck LMAO he says "you're gonna have to shoot me then" and goes to walk out... this man was really thinking "they are NOT gonna take scully from me again" and i know that is exactly right!!!!!

NOOOO the lights go off in the compound........... NOOOOO JESSE ATTACK.....

she's handcuffing her and scully together!!!!!! but scully was smart enough to get her behind a door really fast before jesse collapses and the fungus explodes...... but the handcuffs... was the door open a crack?? was it enough to get her infected???!?!?

mulder BURSTS in to see her handcuffed and she keeps repeating "i'm okay, i'm okay" but he must be so shocked because he asks "you alright?" and gently cups her face and at this point i wanted to do some powerful screaming to let out the things i was feeling

we see trepkos come in and look at jesse's body and he says that he told her how this experience would change her life... and i'm getting callbacks to when mulder told scully it would be a nice trip to the forest, but then the whole evil bugs thing happened in s1 ep20... and i am filled with a deep sadness...

so the duo has been sentenced to a month long quarantine, which i'm sure had to absolutely drive them wild. but i think my mutual wrote a fic on this subject so i just simply have no choice but to go read it now! and i assume that, since there are more seasons, the spores did not actually infect them

(and mulder, who was earlier suggesting time off for scully, must be some mix of terrified that any day now the symptoms will start showing and the end will be near, deeply satisfied that she has been forced into getting rest and healing like he wished, and regretting his words that she should take a break, because here she is taking a break. with him. and they're driving each other crazy)

we see trepkos hiking back into the volcano maze with jesse's body and it was actually really sad :(

overall a good episode, another one in the vein of s1 eps 8 and 20 where there is some sort of contagion and we must figure out from where it started and to whom it has gone... but the formula in these episodes keeps me on the edge of my seat and allows for a convergence of doctor scully and protective mulder, two things i am deeply invested in seeing. and seeing mulder try and keep her away from the case after her whole incident made me emo as hell!!!! he is never going to let her out of his sight again unless he has to go keep her safe by finding the wild man in the volcano!!!!!! and even that backfired!!!! ugh my heart!!!!! i love them so deeply!!!

rip my girl jesse i thought u were rad in the brief time we knew each other

[katiekatdragon27]

I was digging through some of my wips, and I found this old Goth Teensy child I conceptualized that was partly inspired by @/flamigoat's Raypeach child <3 (not sure if they're comfortable with me fully tagging them).

His name is Baerry (pronounced Berry), and he is Goth Teensy's biological kid. He does have another parent, but I am going to leave y'all to investigative journalism to figure out who it is. (Hint: it's not Rayman) She is totally not an excuse to draw a hybrid child noooo-

Some stuff about him, his family, and some progress pics below cut:

Baerry is an intersex kid (he/she) who is honestly pretty unstable physically and mentally. He's a nervous wreak and terrified to let people know she's not a "true teensy". He hates being limbless (even if it's saved his ass a couple times), but she still likes the perks that come with it, like reaching higher shelves and not getting sore arms and legs like her friends. He loves all his family and wants to go on a "Mama Mia" esque quest to find out who his other parent is.

Baerry was found outside of GT's home one night. He was a baby at the time, and Goth had no idea what to do with him. Goth could sense that the kid was his (when people are related their magic radiation feels different from a non-related person) but did not quite remember who the other parent was. He had an idea but did not bother pushing them into answering.

Extra hc: When Glade people have kids, it's just a magic combination of the parents (mono or poly doesn't matter). The blue lums will send out a specific magical effect that merges together. Then, the signal is sent to Polokus. There, he keeps track on which blue lums are available to inhabit a body and imagines a kid for that specific signal. Polokus is kinda messy tho, so sometimes he makes kids for people who are already broken up or widowed. It's quite the surprise when they show up, but Glade folks live by the "it takes a village to raise a child" mentality, so (most) kids have a large support group.

Baerry lives with GT on the regular (obviously), but since GT has a job, he can't care for his kid all the time. So, he has help :). Shadi is Baerry's primary caretaker outside of his dad. She's an awesome aunt who loves pushing Baerry towards his goals. She also gave him the bandana she uses for her hair. Wizard, Jano, and Romeo all come over quite frequently too to help out, but since they all have jobs too, it's not too frequently. The Grand Minimus and Rayman also like hanging out with the kid, but more like "out on the town" kinda thing and not anything long-term. Globox also babysits since his kids and Baerry get along pretty well. Ales is no contact atm b/c Wizard hates his ass and refuses to let him see Baerry.

As for his magic, it's very finicky. It's not like Goth, where his dream magic is weak but his nightmare magic is strong, or like Wizard where the opposite is true. His magic only works in bursts. He usually comes off as magicless, but when provoked enough, causes enough feeling to bubble up and create a strong blast. Folks have theorized that this was caused by Goth's weird situation (being a dream turned nightmare turned dream again), but no one knows for sure.

There's more but I'm feeling lazy. I'm up to answer any questions tho!

Have a good one folks :))

[utilitycaster]

…so I decided to check out Polygon’s D20 coverage, and frankly I think you were entirely too kind to them. Good. GOD, some of that stuff read like they’ve never watched AP that *wasn’t* CR, D20 or the first season of TAZ. And have somehow made it thru the 2010s without encountering urban fantasy…

Anyway, to further nudge you towards your destiny of AP journalism (and with the understanding that you have a Real Job and a life outside TTRPGs and the internet); can you please expand on what you think D20 brings to the table?(pun unintended, but I stand by it) Because speaking as someone who has watched a handful of eps and enjoys the concepts, the praise PG were offering was damningly faint.

Hi! Thank you, and for what it's worth I don't think most of them have listened to the first season of TAZ either, given the way they talk about WBN as inventing the actual play longform podcast. I do want to note: I like writing longform stuff about actual play but I am adamantly not a journalist. I am not investigating or interviewing or reporting; I'm doing analysis and editorial. Amateur critic is the most I can claim to and that's a stretch (and even there I have a particular privilege in that I'm writing all this for free, anonymously, by choice, and don't need be be nice or maintain relationships with actual play performers within the space because I could burn every bridge and still make rent.)

Anyway. I think a major flaw of Polygon is that it's so focused on novelty and subversion that it forgets a well-worn concept, executed with skill, is actually great and for many people, preferable. Brennan, from everything I have heard him say and from how he actually runs games, has a deep respect for fantasy as a genre, and the stories he tells in D20 are ones he is clearly familiar with and loves. I also think to subvert things you must be a fan, and when D20 does successfully subvert or twist a genre, it's coming from a place of respect and understanding.

Anyway, just covering a few Intrepid Heroes seasons: I think Fantasy High (and I haven't gotten to the latest episode of Junior Year) is actually increasingly a brilliant deconstruction of D&D as a game by making the world aware that it's in a D&D game. What does it mean to be in a D&D party and be an adventurer and have that be a significant part of who you are? What does it mean to be a commoner in this world? What do you do when you're sort of a broke teen in generic suburbia but also you need the loot that an adventurer would theoretically get from dragon hoards? Why do you have to know what your life's calling will be when you're 14? One of my personal favorite things, as a lover of mechanics and TTRPGs as a system of storytelling and more generally as someone who believes that your medium of choice should be informing the story you tell, is when people engage with character roles and classes instead of treating them as just a set of cool things you can do, and Fantasy High very much pushes the players to do this. I also mentioned elsewhere that the downtime stress mechanics are a brilliant addition to one of the genuine gaps in D&D, namely, while downtime is a time for open RP, there's not a good way to handle things like stress or crafting or prioritizing well.

The Unsleeping City is one I like, honestly, just because I lived in New York for a few years and Brennan lived there far longer (as did much of the cast, though not all) and his love for it is apparent. I don't think it's groundbreaking; I just think it's really good. The characters are excellent and the story is fun. It's true that, for example, it allows you the satisfaction of making Amazon's and its attempted move into Long Island City the BBEG and smiting its ass instead of having to harangue your senators and councilpeople (as I did, and I wasn't even living in Queens) but really it's just a good story. It doesn't need to be more than that. It did not invent urban fantasy or the idea of a secret magical version of a real city or "most myths are real"; it's just a good story!

I think A Crown of Candy is also just a fun setting and, by making everyone food, emphasizes how petty and arbitrary the alliances in a Game of Thrones-esque milieu can be. It casts a scathing eye on religious interpretation as a tool for conquest without clumsily proclaiming the mere concept of religion is the problem. It has one of the best explorations of character death I've seen and Brennan's acting as Caramelinda remains a tour de force for him. Bringing the entire story of succession and war down to a final choice between two half-sisters remains a brilliant decision, the setting is supported by the mechanical limits Brennan imposed upon character creation, and it's overall beautifully done.

Even Neverafter, which I think have openly said didn't live up to its initial promise, had that promise with the fantastic handling of the TPK; I have a love for metanarrative and honestly my issue is that it was the wrong place to do metanarrative, but it was a bold choice to do in the unpredictable medium of actual play.

That's really only covering a fraction - I think some other standouts are Mentopolis, A Court of Fey and Flowers, Coffin Run, and Escape from the Bloodkeep, and while Shriek Week is just not a genre I'm personally super drawn to, I think the Mythic system is a great system for the story being told and Hicks does a great job running it.

Really what it comes down to is that D20 falls in between what a lot of shows are. It doesn't have the freedom but also the burden of a very long-running campaign (indeed, WBN exists because its performers, all of whom have featured in D20, wanted to be able to do longform actual play), nor is it quite as rushed as an all-miniseries or one-shot show. It has space to explore one or two things really well without having to carry a thousand different threads (and believe me, Brennan tries to put in as many as he can in that space - I actually wonder if the reason Fantasy High Junior Year feels a little more streamlined to me is that WBN was by that time in full swing). But it's not the first edited actual play, it mostly uses very widespread systems, the production values are high but not unheard of elsewhere (and I think that production values in AP beyond the basic 'can you hear and, if relevant, see things clearly and does the set look nice' are overrated though that's a personal preference), the cast is strong but not the first group of professionals or even comedians, and they didn't invent the concept of filming remotely or scrims or having an anticapitalist message.

My issue with the journalists, to reiterate that, is that they're not really doing much journalism, actually; and that their bias is horribly apparent. There's little analysis - just shallow reviews that show little understanding of actual play as a medium, fantasy as a genre, or TTRPGs as a system. And while being entirely free of bias is unavoidable - we are people, and we will bring our own interpretations and experiences in, and there are people who will love D20 and dislike Critical Role without doing so in bad faith - the fact that several of the journalists have openly crowed and preened about their special access to the D20 cast really makes it apparent that they like D20 because Dropout gives them early access and says nice things about them. And it's a feedback loop; Critical Role is going to keep saying "well, you constantly shit on us, so no, you don't get early access" and they'll keep writing bad reviews because they don't get early access.

But to return to the point, D20 is legitimately great and yeah the bias in my mind is only hurting them because, speaking only for myself, if there's two things I like and people heap fawning and inaccurate praise on one and nitpick the other? I'm going to start looking into that praise and find more flaws, and I'm going to start defending the nitpicked one. I really love Fantasy High Junior Year but the Polygon article is so bad I have to remind myself that it's just because the person who wrote it is an idiot. I probably would have gone into Kollok much more neutrally if people didn't act like it was the fucking invention of television. Do give D20 a try if you can! Don't read the articles.

[soda-gremlin]

Thea Sisters Book Reviews: Part 1

I will be posting my honest and unfiltered thoughts on each and every one of the Thea Stilton books >:3 (Including the Mouseford books and Special Editions, or at least the ones released in english)

There will be three per part, a part posted every Friday, and this one is Dragon's Code, Mountain of Fire, and Ghost of the Shipwreck :D

Dragon's Code: 6/10, ah yes, the titular first book of the series. Where we first meet the girls, their mentor, and how they got their name. You’re probably wondering why it’s ranked so low. Well, you know how the first episode of a series is always so different from the others, and it's often people’s least favorite? This is because of “growing pains” so to speak. The series was finding its tone, its footing, its characterization, so it's only natural it's gonna be a cut below the others. And also because it was released in the early 2000s, it was kinda stereotypical in its portrayal of Violet.

The book is from Thea’s perspective, and it starts with her meeting the girls. From there, we see the girls’…rough interactions, and then they’re faced with their very first mystery. It starts with a strange mouse, Hans Ratson. Supposedly, another new student. He’s been acting suspiciously ever since Thea and the girls met him. Then the Whale Family, who work at Mouseford, keep saying cryptic things about what happens if you “stick your snout where it doesn’t belong.” Then after random things start going missing, the girls begin to investigate. They find a secret room, with codes, and most importantly, a dragon statue. After solving the puzzle and the mystery of why all those random items disappeared, they find a Viking ship down in a cave! And down there as well, hanging down from his ankle via a length of rope, is Hans Ratson, or more accurately, Bartholomew Sparkle, a journalism teacher, and one of Mouseford’s best graduates, who disguised himself to investigate that very mystery the girls were.

Like I said before, this book isn’t really the best, since the codes felt kind of overly convoluted, and the girls’ personalities are…not the best. The character designs and illustrations are also notably rougher than the others. 

All in all, despite not being the best book in the series, you should still read it. It’s not a bad book at all. And you get to see how it all started.

Mountain of Fire: 6/10, same reason as the first one. The girls head to Australia to Nicky’s ranch, where her sheep have fallen ill. Who is behind it, none other than the ranch’s rival, Mortimer MacCardigan, the usual jealous, petty, money-grubbing villain from the older books. He poisoned the grass that the sheep eat, and now Nicky and the girls have to find a way to heal the sheep before they die.

This book is definitely not bad, first off the villain has a lot of personality, and is quite memorable, if just for how much of a petty bitch he is. Like damn, imagine being a grown ass man beefing with a college kid. I also liked the conflict with Mortimer, his son, and Nicky, I thought it was interesting. How the hell did Mortimer have a kid?? Who knows. The conflict just didn’t catch my eye as much as the other ones, but that's not an inherent issue with the book. The representation was a little…iffy, I have to say, but I’m not that qualified to talk about that, so I’m just gonna leave it at that. Also, this book is from 2006, so that should explain a few things.

I would still read it though, don’t let my neutrality on this book sway you. It’s still pretty decent, at least compared to the shit they publish now. COUGH COUGH IRRELEWOOD HOAX COUGH COUGH.

Ghost of the Shipwreck:

-Part 1: 

7/10, a short but fun read! We follow the Thea Sisters as they prepare for the hatching of sea turtle eggs, but Professor van Kraken mysteriously disappears. Once they get into his lab, they hear that he’s been sending a Morse code. After rescuing him from Windy Grotto, they find out that there are treasure looters on the loose after the sunken treasure nearby. After getting van Kraken back on the surface and almost crashing the submarine, the girls are attacked by strangers in black diving suits, likely the ones looking for the treasure. And just when they think they’re saved, it turns out that the new ferryman Captain Coral is their boss! They get captured, but with the efforts of van Kraken, they’re rescued and the treasure is recovered. 

Although it only accounts for half of the book’s content, this is a good story. The villain is memorable and is actually competent, the action scenes have that thrill that keeps you interested, and not to mention Violet being an absolute girlfailure, trying to deal with her crush on Professor van Kraken. My only gripe is that it was far too short and that the second part should have been its own book.

-Part 2: 

7/10, also a good read! The girls are invited by Violet’s parents to Beijing to see an opera her father is conducting. When they get there, they meet Xiao, Violet’s childhood friend, and he shows them to their suite (did I mention that Violet’s parents are bougie?) and Violet whisks them all around Beijing. They eventually end up at a market, and they each get a differently colored stone to represent them. They also find a beautiful lacquer box to keep them in, however, as soon as they buy it, someone is already trying to get them to sell it. They refused, and from then on, their trip went off the rails. They find out the lacquer box is the key to a treasure, and that’s why Madame Hu, the pushy woman who tried to buy the box, wanted it so badly. 

I also think this was a fun story! Although, as I said before, this definitely needed to be its own book instead of being shoehorned into one book with a completely different story. The highlight of the book is definitely Madame Hu. With a striking design, intimidating demeanor, and underhanded tactics, she’s one of the best villains to come out of this series. (I might just be biased because she’s hot.) In general, the mystery is interesting, especially Violet’s mysterious, almost prophetic dream that just– never gets explained.

All in all, definitely read this book! Well– Read both stories in this book that is.

[endataraxia]

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 1. pilot Dingy job at a dingy asylum in a dingy town. Everything goes wrong. CW: unfortunately slightly comedic because I can't help myself but it won't always be this way, hopefully 2.8k words

Note: You are referred to as Reader. Y/N is a bit too much of a hassle to type.

You sigh as you're tossed into the back of a car, with the man named Jeff grumbling about how he can't kill you, with Masky admonishing him, Toby ticking away, Hoodie pinning you down, and EJ hanging his head.

You wonder how you got here, and that questioning is so intense you feel your system being choked up with tears, eyes stinging and throat hurting.

So here's how you got here:

You couldn't believe you got the job.

Staring down the asylum on the hill, you thought it was pretty much the typical cliche asylum on a hill. Like, literally, with dark clouds surrounding the cliff it stood on, the sky thundering. Except this time, the sky was a clear blue, contrasting the dark colors of the brutalist-style architecture asylum. You wondered if the walls were a faded greyish-black because it was supposed to be black but the paint faded over time, or if it was originally another color and no one had maintained it for ages. Either way would honestly work, seeing as this asylum was on the outskirts of town, a town that rarely anyone passed, which was ironic, because it was just an hour and a half away from the city. Behind that town was a big patch of forest. Everyone you knew in this town—and you knew everyone—knew not to go into those woods.

And it wasn't as if you were the social type, no. You were pretty friendly, but you didn't consider yourself as someone who would go out of their way to meet others. No, in fact, it was because this town was so small, even the goddamn sheriff was related to you in some way. Your paternal cousin's uncle on his maternal side, yeah yeah, long story that you didn't want to recall. You'd moved into this small decrepit town not because you wanted a romantic getaway from the city or whatever (this place was hardly romantic), but because your place burned down.

Good, you had thought, good riddance of that fucking hellhole where my lifegivers stayed, acting like I was some tenant. Actually, I don't even think a tenant should be treated that way, abused verbally and emotionally.

Barely 3 months had passed after their deaths before that godforsaken house burned down in the suburbs where no one would hear your cries. You recalled having the happiest day of your life when you called 911, and the second happiest day when the half-assed murder investigations finished.

And a week after that day, your house burned down. Crashed and reduced to nothing but ashes. Pretty comical, you'd thought, but then you were out of a place to live.

Sighing, you'd packed whatever stuff you had left after the fire—the clothes on your back, your phone and your precious journal—and hauled ass to the town  on the other side of the city, where your cousin's dog's foster parent's friend or whatever lived.

Really good reason why no one came here, you'd realized, when you reached the town and even the goddamn sign was either burned down or too covered in bird shit to even see the actual sign itself anymore. It's impossible for bird shit and burnt wood to be differentiated, you'd thought, until you met that sign, stared lovingly into its eyes, and immediately fucked off because it was so horridly gross.

You'd knocked on the sheriff's office door, which was in some old-time 1970s building, because you had no clue who to go to in this town. Turns out, the sheriff was more like some village elder than law reinforcement.

"No one tries anything in this town," he'd said with a cigarette in his mouth. "No one." You didn't know if it was because there wasn't enough people in this town for anyone to try anything, or if the sheriff was just incompetent.

No matter. He'd plopped you down on the patio of an abandoned house, whose condition could honestly be way worse. After an entire weekend of spring cleaning the house, you finally had a comfortable (enough) place to live in. It wasn't so bad, you thought.

"There's an asylum behind this town, on the cliff. Sage Forest Mental Institution, or just SF. You can't miss it, it's pretty much visible from everywhere," said the sheriff. Anderson, his nameplate said. "Don't try anything with it. God knows what those teenagers from the city have tried to do in there, but they never came out," he said with a scoff, propelling the smoke in his nose to jet out in a big puff.

You were insane enough to apply for a job at that asylum. Of course, you didn't tell the sheriff. You told no one. None of the, what, twenty people who lived in this town, who'd gathered to welcome the new neighbor. Honestly, it might as well have been called a village at this point. Your fellow town-dwellers were nice, but as you gazed them in their eyes, you noticed something off. Eye contact was noticeably weaker than it was where you previously lived, but you chalked it down to the small population size. Hell, there wasn't even a 7-11. Just a tiny grocery shop. You probably couldn't even get condoms there, which was ironic, because the birth rate would supposedly go up without protection, and thus, population size.

Just as you'd finished contemplating your life choices and the absence of condoms in a small town, you stepped past the threshold of the doorway separating the asylum from the outside world.

Dingy. Horribly dingy, poorly maintained, old building smell. Those words were what came to your mind the moment you were able to take in the inside of the building.

"You the new hire?" A voice so rudely interrupted your admiration for cobwebs on the ceiling. A woman, tanned skin and dark hair, looked at you with an almost impatient aura.

"Uh...yeah. Hi, I'm Reader," you introduced yourself politely with a light chuckle, hoping to lighten the atmosphere, get her to be nicer, anything that could help save your ass from a toxic work environment.

Instead, she rolled her eyes with an "ugh", and droned, "I'm Andrea. Follow me."

Okay, so much for a healthy work environment.

And so you followed her. If you were being honest, you had no idea what to expect. An asylum in a town this remote was one thing, but you didn't know whether to expect many patients, or very few. You also had zero gauge on the employee count, and if the building size was anything to go by, you would've guessed maybe fifty, sixty or so.

But nope, as you walked behind Andrea, you heard nothing but the echoing of your footsteps and your now co-worker muttering angrily about something like why'd they choose me to go all the way out here and useless fucks, the latter of which was very ambiguous as to whom she was referring to. The building had almost no lights, either, and you wondered if there was even water or electricity in this place. Everything was confusing you at this point. But oh well, you thought, you had a steady pay and that was enough.

Begrudgingly, she led you to an unlit back room directly behind what was probably supposed to be a main counter. "This isn't the main building of SF," she started, setting a box down, and as it made contact with the floor, you heard plastics rustling—these were probably meds for the patients. "The main branch is a whole 3 hours away, and for some godforsaken reason," she punctuated with a glare at you, "they sent a measly 5 patients over here and got me aaaall the way over here just to introduce some newbie to their duties," she grumbled. You had no idea whether this was directed to you, or if she was just talking to herself.

She sighed and stood up, facing you. "I won't be here for long. I'm just here to deliver instructions." She fumbled around in the box, causing more plastic to rustle. The noise was almost jarring and you swore you heard it echo off the walls of the empty store room. Again, you thought it was ironic. She pulled out a file from the box and hastily shoved it into your arms. This prompted you to open up the file, and though you couldn't read its contents too well in the darkness, you made something like a table of instructions, timings and diets out.

Just as you thought you'd finally gotten the gist of what you were reading, Andrea snatched it out of your hands and tossed it into the trash below the main counter.

What the fuck?

Your jaw left itself agape. You had no idea, at this point, what you were expecting, what you were currently expecting, and what to expect at all in the future. Why on God's green earth did your weirdly cranky co-worker toss the only instructions you had at all in this dingy place into the trash?

Upon taking in your shocked expression, she sighed and rolled her eyes. Yet another show of begrudgingness. "Look, I know you're new and all and you might have the gusto to work or some shit, but no one is here. No one. You aren't even required to report back to the main branch, I bet no one over there cares and not even the guy in charge of this entire village gives a measly fuck, and the 5 they dragged over here probably creeped out those at the main branch. Look, your job here is, as admin told me, to keep them alive." Upon noticing that your expression was still slack, she decided to oh-so-kindly dumb it down for you. "That is to say, if they die, it's no one's problem."

You wondered how it was possible for your jaw to go even more slack, but it did anyway. But before you could utter any words, oh you had *so many questions*, and so many profanities to cushion those words between, Andrea turned tail and nearly skipped away. You could've sworn she was a ghost, with how quickly she appeared and disappeared.

*What the absolute fuck is that work ethic?

It was actually, legitimately so bad that you drifted over to the main counter, sank into a chair behind it, and buried your face into your hands.

What the fuck just happened? What did she say to me? Why do I know the words she said but not what she said? What is that work ethic? What about the patients you're supposed to take care of and treat with kindness? Did HQ abandon me or something? What the absolute fresh fuck is that work ethic?

You swear you turned into a ghost or something too, because you felt your very soul leave your body.

It took you all of 45 minutes to gather your wits, and finally stand up, because holy shit, that work ethic was so bad it literally dealt a blow to your *own* mental health. But no matter, you told yourself. You're here to take care of patients, and damn right will you take care of those patients.

After picking the file up from the trash and dusting it off, you confidently strode down the hall.

It was at this moment that you realized that Andrea had work ethic so abhorrent that she never even showed you where the patients were. This cost you another 5 minutes, which you spent crouched down on the floor sobbing so hard you shed tears, and you had no idea if you were laughing in despair or if you were crying from a really bad joke.

After a hard slap or two to your face, you straightened up. How hard could it be to find 5 goddamn patients? If you're lucky, they'd even be right next to each other!

They were not.

Of course they weren't.

For after what felt like hours of wandering the interior of the building, you finally came across an area where light flooded onto the floor from the window of a cell. Gasping in relief, you damn near ran over to the cell, but then remembered you probably shouldn't make any sudden movements around the insane, and immediately slowed down, increasingly so as you neared the source of the light from the window to your right.

You came to a stop at the window and turned your head to the right.

Right in your face was a Cheshire grin. A blood-red grin, teeth so white it almost rivaled the sun, but oh, this person's eyes.

Unblinking, black irises so dark you could have mistaken them for the pupils themselves, sclera so bright in comparison and yet bloodshot, and eyelids rimmed in black, like a smokey eye makeup look, but dear god, this was DEFINITELY not makeup. His eyes scared the shit out of you, and you felt like you had to physically grab your soul from leaving your body.

Your vision blurred for a moment. The colors white, black and light blue.

"Whoa there, sweetheart. Can't have you fainting on us."

Those words in a raspy voice brought you back to earth.

The person, the person with not-smokey-eye-makeup and a Cheshire grin, was speaking to you. You blinked and your vision refocused. A dark eyebrow was raised at you, rippling near-white skin. You wondered if it was face paint, but then remembered that one could not procure face paint from asylum air in the middle of nowhere.

"Uhh," was your intelligent response. The man—it was clear, from the baritone of his voice—chuckled, eyes still unblinking, though narrowing a little as the chuckle reached his eyes. But he didn't stop chuckling, no, this man doubled over, laughter reaching a crescendo.

"HEY! HEY, YOU SEE THAT, BEN?!" He howled, gripping at his light blue hospital gown.

Who was this Ben?

"Oh, don't worry about it," he chuckled, wiping a tear from his still wide open eye. "I'm gonna kill you anyway."

Huh?

Before you could even dismiss his words as something a crazy person would say, the glass in front of you shattered, and out shot his hand, veiny and as pale as the rest of him. He nearly tore your clothes with the sheer force at which he pulled you forward, hands wrapping around your throat, constricting breath, blood flow, and your senses.

Nails. Your nails, they dug into something. Your hands hurt. Your eyes teared up, and your lungs screamed for air.

Something like a voice sounded behind you, though at this point, your hearing had left you, but you felt your center of gravity lower and something hit your ass hard, followed by your skull.

You regained your senses and gagged, hands around your own throat, eyes tearing up even more now, and your body couldn't decide if it wanted to choke, gasp for air, or throw up. You heaved and heaved, for ages and ages, till your mind grasped reality again.

Yelling. Yelling, from two different voices, from two different directions. The one behind you was named Jeff, apparently, and the newcomer—there was a newcomer?—was called Masky. Or Tim, but just as that name popped up, Jeff's quarrel was cut off, followed by choking sounds. Deja vu, you thought, as you turned around to see another patient in a hospital gown holding Jeff—the one with wide eyes and a scary grin— by the jaw. Or was it his throat?

"Shut the fuck up," Masky or Tim spat viciously. "And stop killing random people. The reason we're still here is because you keep fucking KILLING our keyholders, and then shifting to a new room every goddamn time! What the actual FUCK," he snarled, "is WRONG with you that you can't compre—"

A loud slap, and Masky-not-Tim fell to the ground.

No, it wasn't a slap. It was way too powerful to be one. Perhaps it should be called a blow instead. Whatever it was got him knocked out cold for a whole of 2 seconds—2 seconds that Jeff took to vault over where the glass was supposed to be, and grab ahold of you again, but not before Masky lunged and pulled him down by the neck, sending them both tumbling into the mess of glass shards, a tangle of limbs.

Honestly, you didn't know what to think. Your first instinct was to run, away from Jeff, but your second was to stay and help Masky, your benefactor. Your final, rational thought, was to break them apart, and so you did, but Jeff's flailing caught you in the face.

You blacked out.

chapter 2 is out.

[formulatrash]

That anon acting like being a journalist in motorsport is like being an executive in a capitalist establishment. 🤡 It’s like accusing a McDonalds crew member of being pro capitalism because they work in McDonalds. Like??? As if being treated poorly and paid dirt despite working your ass off everyday is not reason enough to he a socialist. I am a socialist precisely because of my experience as a worker in these filthy corporations! Clown anon!

you're absolutely right but a very large number of people in motorsport and the media are obviously very right wing. even when it's wildly against their own interests or totally in opposition to the concept of journalism or whatever.

especially in worlds like motorsport or the car industry. a lot of people don't like actually covering things, they enjoy being there. whether that's at the Frankfurt motor show or the Miami Grand Prix. and if your goal is just being there then you're willing to work for places where you do actively bad stuff because what you make was never the goal.

that's not how it's ever worked for me and this isn't meant to sound morally superior or whatever because honestly, get what you want i guess. but for me being in paddocks or factories or literally driving cars is so that I can write better pieces and find out more. the pass is to make the media, not the pieces a bartering chip for the pass.

in retrospect, some of that is why it was often pretty lonely. because I wasn't playing the same game as quite a lot of people. and it also makes the industry all the more exploitative because people want that lanyard so much they'll do anything for it.

I was thinking the other day that there's been almost no coverage of the investigation into F1 lobbying the EU and British government on behalf of Aramco, via synthetic fuel. It's a really damning link and I'm not just saying this because I'm quoted in the article but I would absolutely be writing about it if I still had somewhere to do it. it's a really shocking scandal, that F1 is helping hold up combustion car bans by contributing (unproven) information about synthetic fuels.

it's not the kind of thing F1 like people reporting. so suddenly all the men who self-style as hard-nosed business journalists in the paddock are being awfully quiet. because it is more important to still be there.

obviously, I am not still there. I did indeed criticise FE one too many times for their liking and fell out of favour. I am not a model for holding onto your pass. but there is also no point pretending that I could have acted differently just to keep it. anyway, this all turned into a bit of a ramble but turns out there's bad people kind of everywhere and often they're holding the controls.

I think that's part of what's upset me about the Watcher thing. these are guys who deliberately set out to make their own media company so they had that control to make things they were proud of, with the production values they wanted, under their own ownership, without having to fire people all the time. and you're asking them to be more like Buzzfeed? that was the bad old days, friends.

[windandwater]

political ramblings from a recovering news junkie (I had to stop following this stuff, it was giving me health problems)

anecdotally it seems like a lot of people are/were sick of trump and don't want him back, and they just needed a new candidate to actually be excited about.

everyone's takeaway from 2016 was that America just hates women too much to elect one over a racist white man but I said from the beginning that the problem was Hilary herself, whom everyone had too many reasons to hate. imo mostly imagined reasons especially compared to the egregiousness of her opponent. but democrats really underestimated how much people in red states still carry a grudge against her, leftover from the 90s.

but due to America's still-real hatred of women,and racism, I've been wondering whether Kamala really can win against this jackass and I keep thinking about something my boss (another politics wonk, NOVA grown and has worked in journalism and interned in the white house) says, which is that America hates losers, and trump has proved himself a loser--and a criminal, in the actual courts, which the right can try to spin as politically motivated but I think to anyone not following every move it just looks bad. same thing as what happened with the emails investigation with Hilary--people just assume that if there's smoke there's fire. and I don't think most people's mouths are wrapped around the fox news hose of information tight enough to be able to justify every bad thing that happens to republicans to themselves. so I think people have been waiting for an energetic challenger to trump for a long time and they're jumping on this moment. all over the country, not just in what we think of liberal outposts. and I think most Americans are capable of seeing a candidate and not a scary person who doesn't look like them, especially since she's so charismatic and genuinely fun.

I also think we need to reckon with the effects of gerrymandering and really do something to combat it if we get any kind of administration and congressional change because the majority of Americans are not represented at all. you see that in the polling but I've also seen it firsthand when leaving my little liberal city and talking to people in supposedly blood red states. we agree with each other on a lot of things and if we went back to the old way of compromising on bills and issues and stopped this crap of one party being up the ass of corporations and the death cult of the evangelical right, we'd see a lot of real progress. but since that's not really an option, steamrollering over them over and over until the party is destroyed and a new one emerges is the only option for the future here, I think. and to do that we gotta have representative districts. because I think it will happen naturally if Americans are represented.

all of the above applies to voting rights as well.

I like Kamala Harris even though she's not the candidate I would pick. but I also don't think necessarily the progressive base of the party should pick the presidential candidate, in this race we clearly need someone who can pull the party together and build coalitions and it looks like that's her. it's been really interesting to see the country agree with me when normally I don't think I'm on the same page as moderates in this country. maybe the center of the country is finally moving left? or maybe the far right radicalism/fascism has finally hit its breaking point?

I feel the way I did in 2016; absolutely terrified of the election. but it's mixed with the way I felt in 2008; that maybe there's light in the world.

[fromtheshadowsnyc2]

Entry 1: New York State of Mind

[All dividers are credited to @saradika-graphics]

[Green Divider is credited to @firefly-graphics]

God, I hate living here.

I think that about a thousand times a day. When I’m forced awake from my alarm, when my mom yells at me to shower and get ready for another day at school. When I’m putting on the uniform for that snotty school I’m somehow attending. When I’m packing my little brothers’ lunchboxes while chewing on a freshly toasted poptart. When I’m dragging my feet to the train station. When I’m boarding the 6 train with the crowd waiting on the elevated station. When I get off at a station downtown and have to inhale the fresh ick from the subway as I walk up to the surface. When I have to dodge every idiot tourist or every other person trying to commute and live their lives.

You get the gist. No one hates New York more than someone who was actually born here. And it only gets worse the more you get randos from other states moving in and getting rid of what you actually loved about this place.

Ugh, another one? 

I frown at a new store sitting in the corner, where one of my fave bodegas used to rest. Replaced by another pretentious coffee shop/bakery mix. Probably run by some hipster idiot who will call 311 to complain about the loud Spanish and hip-hop music in the neighborhood.

Really tragic, honestly. Abdul was the only guy in this part of Manhattan who made a decent chop cheese. Plus, I liked his cat.

Unfortunately, this kind of cultural casualty has become all too common in the city these past couple years. From Washington Heights to Brooklyn, there’s barely anything that resembles the real NY anymore. Even Queens isn’t safe. It won’t be long until it infects my neck of the woods. It’s inevitable at this point.

Best that I can do is just dart my eyes forward and keep on walking.

The Stockman Academy for the Sciences is one of those fancy private schools you can only attend if you win a school scholarship—or if you’re a millionaire. 

Or, if you’re…

“Nice to see you showed up on time, charity case,” says a prim voice as I walk into homeroom. She’s surrounded by her usual minions, and making a show of fixing her make-up, her eyes on a compact mirror. “I was starting to think you finally gave up.” 

A retort does claw at my throat, but I hold it back and just walk to the furthest seat away from her, my fists trembling in the pockets of my school sweater. If there’s anyone in this school who walks around like their ass doesn’t stink, it would be Antonia Stockman—who is, of course, the only daughter of the school’s founder and current CEO the city’s most prominent science industries. Why does she feel the need to bother me? No idea. Far as I know, I didn’t do anything to her. Most days, I just use the same method I used back in my old school. Keep your head down, eyes forward, and mouth shut. No one can hurt you if you become invisible, right?

It’s just…very difficult, when you’re a poor kid surrounded by the children of New York’s elite. Everyone notices you’re different then. Like a smell you can’t wash off.

The moment I sit and set down my backpack, I reach inside and pull out a book I’ve been trying to finish. I’d go on my phone, but they aren’t allowed in school, which just makes my insides twist. I really want to message Cleo right now. Chatting with her always makes me feel better. Plus, it’s been so long since we hung out or even had a real conversation. Things have been a little…weird between us since I started attending Stockman Academy. In a way that makes me a little too anxious. What could be going on with her? 

It’s not even eight yet, and I already feel like I’m going to vomit.

Going to classes is a reprieve from anything involving socializing. I’m actually a decent student, and the teachers here make things interesting. (I guess there’s something to what my mom said about me needing a challenge.) But my favorite subject? It's a senior English elective, Investigative Journalism, which is taught by—

“So, can anyone tell me the impact of Upton Sinclair’s book The Jungle?”

My hand shoots up immediately and I make sure to keep eye contact with her. Pretty sure the selection isn’t hard, since barely anyone answers most days. Usually, in any other class, I’d join them in the usual student apathy—but of all the teachers in this school, she’s who I want to impress most.

She glances around the room before smiling at me. Then she gives a nod. I sit up, a nervous excitement fluttering through me. It’s nice to be noticed, sometimes.

“Because Sinclair revealed its grisly practices and what exactly was going in their products, the meatpacking industry had to change how they mix and package their meat. Including…”

I continue on for barely a minute, knowing I’ll probably end up talking too much. I don’t participate a lot, but when I do, my nerves make it hard for me to…well, stop talking. And I hate that, because I end up stuttering and sounding so…so dumb.

But not this time! I think, keeping my smile casual on the outside and beaming on the inside. No stutter, no rambling, I was perfect! I hope.

I truly do. Ms. O’Neil is not only the nicest teacher here, she is like The Journalist to learn from. Couple years back, she was the face you’d see in the mornings, talking about the issues and stories many news outlets refused to discuss. She called out the previous mayor and the NYPD commissioner for their neglect of crimes in certain areas, especially the still growing gang activity. Especially regarding news about the most recent gang that’s popped up, the elusive and dangerous Foot Clan.

No idea how she ended up teaching here. But I did notice sometime last year or so, she wasn’t reporting the news as much. A lot of the stories she’d been updating had been pushed aside for celebrity scandals and other big fluff pieces. Nothing that really mattered. For a while, her old network seemed to pretend she didn’t exist. 

Maybe she finally said too much. Maybe she finally pissed off the wrong person. Whatever the reason, I’m glad to see she’s still around—and that she’s teaching my class. She makes me feel like I still have a little luck.

“You did good today, kid! I see you’re growing more confident,” she says to me after class, her grin wide.

I feel ready to burst out of my skin and turn into butterflies. She’ll never really know how much that means to me, coming from her.

“Thanks Ms. O’Neil! Um, are we still meeting after school on Friday?” I ask, referring to the school newspaper. 

“Definitely! Gotta give you kids your assignments for next month’s issue. Unless you have any suggestions or requests?” she adds, her tone already knowing—but of course it is, she’s amazing—and eyes slightly narrowed behind her glasses.

My smile widens and I reach into my bag to pull out a folder.

“I actually have an idea for a series! Remember how we talked about New York’s gentrification a week ago? Well, I was thinking of going around certain spots in the city and talking about the longtime businesses still there. Like restaurants, bodegas, or indie bookshops, even—a lot of the stuff that helps a neighborhood retain its culture, y’know? I actually have some ideas already…”

My voice trails off as I pull out some pictures I took last weekend, of places I’ve been visiting since I was little. Fortunately, some things in the Bronx haven’t really changed too much. It still feels like home.

Ms. O’Neil looks at each picture, her smile growing and her eyes gleaming with each one. When her eyes meet mine again, I want to think she’s proud of me. 

“This is a great idea, kiddo. Let’s talk more about it on Friday.”

Needless to say, I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

“—Aw, that’s awesome, dude! Ya think O’Neil will approve my idea too?”

“What? About the secret population of underground mutant humanoids or whatever? Please, Norman,” says my friend Sakina, rolling her eyes while sitting next to me.

“Oh, right, like your idea about aliens is any better!”

“At least I have evidence!”

“Based on old Japanese water paintings and mythology!”

“Oh? Oh, okay—!”

The old argument continues while I sit between them on the quad, but as annoying as it is listening to two weirdos argue about the same fucking thing, these two weirdos are the only friends I’ve managed to make at the academy. So, I don’t really mind. Too much.

“C’mon, dude, we need you as a tiebreaker! You gotta have an opinion on one of our theories,” Norman begs me, his voice nasally and grating. “Aliens vs. Mutants?”

Pressing my mouth closed, I let out a hum in negative while shaking my head. “No way, man. I’m not touching either of your corners of weird. Like, aliens—okay, that’s at least something people have talked about for decades. But mutants? Let alone a secret society of mutants?”

“Who choose to live in the sewers, of all places,” Sakina adds emphatically, her eyes rolling to the sky in near pleading before she murmurs a soft prayer in Arabic. 

“Well, I mean. Would it really be a choice? Considering humanity’s track record of…well, everything?” Norman finishes in a cringe.

Still, the words weigh heavily in the air. We all look at each other before looking away in thought. Sometimes, in the face of the obvious, there is no perfect response.

Suddenly, Norman’s phone goes off. He quickly takes it out and unlocks it. When he sees what’s on the screen, he lets out a sigh and pushes up his glasses.

“That’s my mom. She’s waiting for me out front,” he grouses. Then he sends us a worried look. “You two sure you don’t want a ride?”

Surprisingly, Sakina smiles up at him. “Thanks, but I live all the way in Astoria, Norm. It would be too far out of the way.”

“Yeah, and I have to do a shift at Gino’s tonight,” I add. “Thanks, though. Discord later?”

He grins. “Hell yeah! I gotta play some Mass Effect tonight anyway. I’m this close—this close— to romancing Miranda.”

I chuckle, my chest bubbling with joy as I watch him walk away. Then I shake my head. That kid can be too much sometimes.

“The heck is Mass Effect?” Sakina asks, once he’s far enough.

“An old video game series. You might like it, though. It’s like a space opera thing,” I explain. Then, with a mischievous smirk, I add, “With aliens.”

“Hmm…are there aliens I can seduce?”

I nod. “One of them has tentacles—on her head.”

Sakina’s eyes widen. “Hmm! Color me intrigued.” 

I laugh, and then start standing up.

“C’mon, we got a train to catch.”

The train ride with Sakina is fairly smooth and quiet, considering we’re going further downtown. We were fortunate to be able to find a car that was roomy enough for us to find seats next to each other. For a good few minutes, we sit in peace—at least, until.

“…For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve chosen to write about something else,” Sakina speaks softly. “Other than…”

Her voice trails off, but she doesn’t have to say it. I already know.

“A baby journalist’s hit piece on the Foot Clan?” I finish, my voice rather dry.

“Girl, you know it would have been dangerous. O’Neil freaked when you even suggested it!”

“Believe me, you don’t have to remind me…” 

I already remember.

(“Absolutely not!”

“But why?!”

“Because they are dangerous, kid! They’re not just a bunch of cosplayers who dress as ninjas for fun, they hurt people. And they will do worse to anyone snooping around!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I yelled back, tears springing to my eyes. “O'Neil, they’ve started recruiting people around my ‘hood! They’ve killed or taken people I know—and no one in this city is doing anything about it! No one thinks we’re important enough.”

“That’s not—”

“The only person who did was you! And you’re not doing it anymore!”

“…”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” 

There was this…this look on her face. Her jaw slack. Her eyes were vacant. Like she wasn’t there for a moment—like she was somewhere else. It frightened me. What happened to her? Why did she stop working for the news? 

But in a sharp breath, April O’Neil was back and looking at me with shining dark eyes. Her hands went to my shoulders.

“Kid, the only reason I became so good at what I do is because of the connections I’ve made. Some that are more special than others. The only reason I’m still breathing today is because of those connections,” she told me, her voice full of a fear that scared me deeply, in a way I didn’t understand. “But you…you’re still a kid. This is not a battle you should fight…not on your own. You have to leave it to those who can.”)

I wanted to retort some more, but my momentum was already gone after the confrontation. I was just left feeling much like a know nothing kid. And isn’t that the truth? Yeah, sure, it feels like giving up but—I have to face the truth. Who am I compared to the great April O’Neil? Maybe it’s just best to stay in my lane.

Talking about the parts of NY yet to be gentrified? Much safer. And it’s still something I care deeply about. Hopefully, the students who read The Stockman Herald will like it too. 

“Trust me, I learned my lesson,” I tell Sakina. “No pursuing dangerous people for the sake of a story.”

“Good. Wait until you’re a real journalist. Or at least until you know how to actually fight.”

“Hey, I came from an area where fights happen every second of every day! You can’t blame me for having a conflict aversion.”

Sakina points at her head and says in a drawl, “I literally broke a fuckboy’s nose for attempting to tear off my hijab, I have all the right to blame you.”

I let out a chortle. “Okay, okay! You don’t have to keep reminding me. I’m well aware of your badass status.”

We both share a smile and then shift our conversation to other topics, like the other classes we take and what else we plan to do for the school newspaper. By the time it’s time for Sakina to get off and transfer to her next train, I feel my mood has lifted more than quite a bit. Even still not getting a response from Cleo doesn’t bother me as much; I’m sure she’s just busy. 

I put in my earbuds and turn on my playlist, allowing myself to ride the calm of the subway ride. Might as well enjoy the peace now, before I spend the next few hours helping to make and deliver pizza.

[kittenintheden]

Writer Interview Game

hee fun, thank you for the tag, @eraserspiral!

When did you start writing?

blah blah blah been writing stories since I was a kid blah but honestly I'd say I legitimately developed an interest in writing fiction when I was around 13. you'll never guess this but I was on the jr high literary magazine and I wrote a sweet lil 13yo romance story where a marine biologist verbally abuses a dude who hits a dolphin with his boat and then he gets them both to the emergency vet and then it turns into a meet-cute. I used the word "dumbass" in the story and my teaching advisor let it slide and it was published with the swear intact. it was a whole thing.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I read all kinds of things I don't especially want to write. a lot of nonfiction and investigative journalism, memoirs, literary classics a la Virginia Woolf. no interest whatsoever in writing it but it's good reading.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

there isn't like a specific writer I aspire to write like, but I have historically been compared to Neil Gaiman, which is very flattering. mostly I admire the writing chops of Laini Taylor for her beautiful lyrical imagery and dreamlike framing, Carmen Maria Machado for the way she blends horror elements with life, queerness and emotion, Christopher Moore for his incredible humor writing, and (surprise) Neil Gaiman for his approach to speculative fiction that feels so accessible and tied to the real world. like you could turn over a rock and find an entire magical world you never knew was there.

I don't necessarily want to EMULATE them but I have been influenced by them, for sure.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write on a laptop curled up in the corner of my couch with noise-cancelling headphones on and am frequently interrupted by pets, a spouse, or children. which is why I tend to write late at night.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

sit my ass down and start typing. like I know that is not romantic or fun but part of writing is that I have to get into my flow state, and I can't do that by dicking around doing stuff that isn't writing. it can be really, really hard. sometimes it'll feel like shit. but I do it anyway.

something that helps me a lot is putting on the headphones and listening to mood music or a dialogue video to kind of kickstart my brain into the creative space.

I also do a weed. doing a weed relaxes my inner critic. sometimes.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

sibling relationships tend to feature prominently. I have several siblings and sibling dynamics are fascinating to me. there also tend to be themes of self-sacrifice, choosing love (romantic or platonic), and messy but ride-or-die style friendships.

What is your reason for writing?

I feel compelled to put the movies playing in my head to the page. it brings me joy to transcribe my weird ideas and give them form.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

when people tell me they've come back to reread something I wrote because it stuck with them. that's like. wow. what a feeling. what a motivator.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I try not to think about how other people think about me if I can help it, which I often can't, lol. but mostly I hope readers (and people in general) think of me as someone who tells emotionally resonant stories that make them smile or laugh.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

dialogue. expressing an emotion succinctly on the page.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm in a pretty good place about it these days. I write both professionally and for fun, and what I do in this space is my fun time. I can let go, be experimental and weird, not overanalyze every single word, and make something for/with a community that I really enjoy.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

a mix of both, I guess? mostly for myself, honestly. I write the things I would enjoy reading. I write the smut I would find hot. I write the jokes that make me laugh. but I also love giving little winks to readers and letting them know that they're part of the experience, too.

no pressure tags: @shewhowas39 @spacebarbarianweird @ghostfire @brain-rot-central @brabblesblog

[duchessdepolignaca03]

several sentences Sunday - except its 500 filthy crack words

It wouldn't be a Several Sentences Sunday if I wasn't posting on technically Monday morning, and if it wasn't much longer than several sentences. Thank you for the tag @onthewaytosomewhere @sparklepocalypse @priincebutt @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @taste-thewaste. I'm not going to tag anyone else because its MONDAY.

I seriously contemplated posting some bullets for my interview assignment just to troll/bore everyone. But after my work computer died, I decided to put my brain to better, less productive uses. And this is what happened to answer the question: What if Alex is a journalist who is tasked with confirming a scoop that Prince Henry is gay as a maypole?

It's 500 words. I don't know if there's more to this. Probably not. So I'm going to post it here and decide whether to post it on A03 later.

Warning: EXPLICIT and Spicy! This is the spiritual sequel to "Pull It, Sir, Prize" I suppose, with far less gloriously unhinged vocabulary.

This is the story of how Alex Claremont-Diaz found himself doing a Grand Plie at the end of a kitchen island in Kensington Palace, eating the deliciously majestic ass of His Royal Highness, Prince Henry of Wales. 

HRH is making the most obscene sounds as he fellates a cornetto, licking it from cone tip to the top of the rapidly disappearing mound of strawberry ice cream. Alex watches from his vantage view between the Prince’s legs, though his view is partially obscured by the enormity of the Prince’s cock. His Royal Cock (HRC, for short), by the way, is wet with precum and Alex’s saliva from when Alex was the one doing the fellating. The HRC, not the cornetto - the latter of which is objectively less delicious than the former.

Alex’s own WCC (Working Class Cock), is sadly helpless and lacking for friction besides the kiss of the cold marble. It twitches when HRH starts lewdly licking the cornetto drippings from his unexpectedly and hornifingly muscular forearm. Alex squeezes his glutes to steady himself, but they are burning with effort, especially as they are already slightly sore from the brutal spanking HRH had given him in the backseat of his opulent Rolls-Royce. 

Better speed this up, he thinks, before he comes untouched or his knees and glutes give out from the uncomfortable position. He presses down on HRH’s prostate with his finger as he licks broad stripes with the flat of his tongue along HRH’s perineum, giving him some dizzying internal and external stimulation.  He’d found the Royal P-Spot a while ago, but stimulated it sparingly out of a desire not to see the cornetto flung into his hair by the overly aroused Prince. 

It’s clear he’s made the right call when the cornetto does get flung across the room as HRH’s orgasm rips through him, HRH shouting obscenities that only makes Alex work harder, like the sadist he is. When he’s come down enough, HRH wipes the cum off his own belly with the flat of his palm, then shoves that hand through Alex’s curls, gripping tightly and pulling Alex up to face him. Rude. And filthy. Turns out Alex liked that.

“So, does this confirm you’re gay then?” Alex asks, grinning cockily. How HRH still manages to look imperious is beyond him, especially when he barely seems able to catch his breath. Alex takes a moment to wipe his face with a wet-wipe and rinse out his mouth with some whitewash. They learned from Round Two. Breath smelling minty fresh, he walks to the other end of the kitchen island to place an upside down kiss on HRH’s “dictionary definition of dick-sucking” lips. 

“I’m still not sure. I think I’ll need at least four more go-rounds to make sure before we put it on the record.”  “Four rounds? Let’s make it five. For the sake of journalistic integrity.” “Well, in that case, if it’s for the sake of journalistic integrity, we should make it at least ten sex sessions, and two romantic dates. We’re going to get you that Pulitzer Prize for Investigative Journalism, baby.” 

“Deal.”