#or EVEN in the way of jonathan as well - anger AT him for hurting himself

[gayofthefae]

VERY curious about her facial CHANGE here. And yes, this is the order it goes in.

She was sad for him to START. Whatever she just realized made it the second image.

It reminded us of this before

But now it reminds me of this

Did she just learn about his feelings? Or did she just learn about his heartbreak?

Edit: on a rewatch of the clip itself it could also just be pensive thoughtfulness. Like confusion or momentary self doubt the process of the realization. Or more of a questioning look.

[strangersteddierthings]

In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

[the-crooked-library]

You made such excellent points- in OG book vampirism is imposed on Mina by outside force and Mina actually can be cured from it if they kill Dracula. But if not Jonathan is ready to become vampire himself. Ellen meanwhile was born like that - with her psychic paranormal abilities. Orlok didn’t make her like that, that’s her forever part. But Thomas essentially wants her to be normal, while she never was in the traditional sense and can’t be normal and in his hunt for Orlok seems to believe that killing him would not only save but cure-fix Ellen too. It won’t. I mean Thomas is the one, who proceeds to have sex with Ellen when she’s not even feeling perfectly coherent, not entirely self, because he wants to show his masculinity or idk. Imagine if after Dracula’s attack on Mina and Mina telling about it Jonathan would immediately proceed to have aggressive sex with her instead of just comforting her, because he needs to reestablish his husband’s rights or something? Like that’s not. But that’s the part of why book Jonathan and 2024 remake Thomas are different characters.

Thank you - I'm glad you've enjoyed them, and they do actually connect to the scene you're mentioning here!

There is a lot to say about this particular sequence, mainly because it forces two characters to deal with each other and face the reality of their marriage, while both are emotionally stripped to the bone and unstable. The result is an incredibly revealing scene. It digs into the Hutters' insecurities, fears, hurts - and even though they largely fail to communicate within their fictional framework, the viewer gets a veritable feast of information regarding them both.

Throughout this scene, Ellen is evidently in a psychic trance; as demonstrated by Von Franz and his needle, during these "fits" she is at least partially astral projecting; her soul is not entirely housed in her body and she often appears to be sleepwalking (which might be a reference both to the original 1922 Nosferatu and Eggers' earlier project The Witch). In this state, she is also not in control of the baser, more physical, less rational passions and desires; she is unbound, stripped of her usual repression - and what lies beneath is a lifetime of neglect, loneliness, and disrespect, as well as all the pain and rage she consequently feels. This is not a surprise for the viewer, who has already witnessed her suffering, her lack of autonomy, and her argument with Harding; but it is absolutely a surprise for Thomas.

Thomas cannot fathom why Ellen would be angry with him; in his mind, he has done everything right - provided for her, prioritized their financial advancement, came back to try and save her from the monster he knows is after her. However, what he fails to understand that he has also cut their honeymoon short, that he left her right after that to travel to another country, that she never cared about wealth beyond being able to afford a somewhat stable existence; what Ellen wants, above all else, is to be known, understood, and respected - and Thomas has failed to give her that. He discourages her from talking about her dreams, he does not understand her priorities in life, and he cannot help but patronize her, even when he is attempting to express his affections. Her visceral anger is a shock to him, it catches him entirely off-guard, and then she drops a final bomb - "you could never please me the way he does."

What Ellen means here is that Orlok, a monster, is the only one who has ever understood her - because she is herself a monster. What she is trying to do is bait Thomas into exposing what she believes he truly thinks of her, now that he has seen what she becomes, liberated by the nightfall.* This is obviously a toxic thing to do, but Ellen is not a healthy or balanced individual, and this is a gothic story, so yes, she baits him (rather blatantly, in my opinion; but I've seen people confused about it, so who knows. Admittedly, I have a rather specific sort of practical background, as far as relationships go). Point is, what she expects from him is a rejection; and what she craves, desperately, is his acceptance.

What Thomas hears, however, is that another man has infringed upon what is legally his - and that his masculinity is in question, rather than Ellen's humanity; which lands a critical hit against his already damaged, patriarchal, 19th-century-misogynistic ego.

To fully understand his reaction, we must really dig into his overall narrative context. From the very beginning of the film, and throughout the story, Thomas Hutter's struggles revolve around his continuous emasculation. He is a low-level part-time employee at a real estate firm that is run exclusively by older, well-established men. He is played for a fool by foreigners who steal his horse (they were just trying to save his life, seriously, they didn't think he'd hike the fucking Carpathians on foot in the winter, but that's not how he perceives that situation). He is trapped in Orlok's castle - and, given the sexual allegories of vampirism, arguably assaulted. I'm not going to go into the full background of queerphobic stereotypes and opinions; still, suffice to say that not only would that experience have been traumatic (understandably so), but also that the act of submitting to penetration (here, biting) by another man has been historically seen as inherently emasculating and degrading. In the context of Nosferatu (or Dracula, or Interview with the Vampire, and others), this scenario is, on a largely Doylist level, a bodice-ripper fantasy; however, that doesn't make it any easier for Thomas to accept. To submit to another (even a richer, older, infinitely more powerful) man is a problem - but to enjoy that position is unforgivable.

All that to say - by the time Thomas returns to Wisborg, his sense of self-worth is in shambles. The narrative has assigned him the role of a Damsel in Distress, which he fits perfectly and obviously resents. Thus, when he hears yet another insult from his wife - who may be higher-born, but still his wife, and thus below him - he reacts accordingly, with fury.

Again, in anticipation of discourse wank - this is not a good thing; his reasons are clear, I understand them, I do not excuse him. What Thomas does at this point is attempt to aggressively reassert his claim and right to Ellen as her husband. He's rough, but uninventive; he also doesn't worship her the way Orlok did; and, ultimately, even as he tries to demonstrate his continued interest and desire for her, he ends up proving her anxieties. When faced with a hallucination - a fraction of her psychic gift - he flings her away. Crucially, he cannot "show" Orlok their love.

After that, he does try to reassure her, be gentle with her, declare his love - but, really, he might as well mark that off as another failure. She has seen how terrified he looked, and she will not believe a word he says.

The whole scene is a distillation of their dynamic. It's one disconnect after another, strung together by his inability to listen, her lack of trust, and their shared resentment. Thomas and Ellen's relationship is hindered at every turn by the misogyny, queerphobia, and repression that are built into the cage that is their society. The film is an exploration of that cage. Its bars are the driving force behind the plot.

* NIGHTFALL - the diurnal, or gas-lit (it's on the nose. it's SO on the nose) scenes are a visual shorthand for the "normal" accepted society. It is Rational (hence the scientific "gaseous" light), it is godly (sunlight), it is the domain of the Hardings and Sievers of the story. The moonlight and firelight provide a similar distinction to the scenes that delve into the Emotional and the demonic, removing the subjects from the usual societal restrictions; those light sources are generally considered to be magical, primal, raw. It's fascinating, seriously - if you ever watch this film again, try to pay attention to the lighting!

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 7: Arkham Creeping with Dan Pt.1

Here with Another Chapter for the Day :33 well, this is my second chapter for today but it depends on WHO'S reading anyways <333

Enjoy pookies~

[Dan Phantom is Chill Until someone Hurts his Baby Brother or Baby Sister]

╔═*.·:·.✧ [ꀸꍏꈤ꓄ꍟ-ꉓꍟꈤ꓄ꋪꀤꉓ ꉓꃅꍏꉣ꓄ꍟꋪ] ✧.·:·.*═╗

Dante held Danny's hand gently, worry filling his formerly stoic face.

He felt small subtle tears roll down his cheeks as Frostbite, the Large Yeti Doctor examine the little Ghost Prince.

"Will he be alright?" Dante asks Frostbite with a gentle voice. Frostbite merely nods and smiles, "The Great One will be quite alright, it's fair to say that he's handled worse but both his human self and ghost core are back to it's normal compatibility but I suggest letting his body and core rest for the time being." Frostbite the yeti said with a gentle reassuring smile as he pats Dante's Shoulder.

"I, Frostbite of the Far Frozen, Promise with all my core, that the young great one will be fine Dante. As his Core resonates with the coldness of our Habitat it'll help him even further if he rests here." Frostbite said and Dante nods. Vlad taps Dante's Shoulder, "We need to go back and let Daniel have some space to rest big Badger." He says gently.

"Right...." Dante muttered and stood up, Ellie jumping up to Dante with hands high and Dante Carrying her in his arms. Ellie was also worried, Danny was in so much pain although everything stemmed mostly from his memories the Fear Toxin also tried to fight it off but that made Danny's body hurt.

Dante kisses her forehead and they pressed it with each other before Dante looked one last time at Danny's Unconscious Body and left with Vlad. Vlad simply pats his back as they headed back to Gotham through a Portal Dante had made.

"Dante, if you need me for consolation or anything you have me on Speed Dial. I don't consider you 3 as my children for nothing... Remember that." Vlad says with a gentle father-like tone. Something that Dante isn't used to but he's fine with it, Dante nods and watches Ellie and Vlad drive off back to Vlad's Mansion leaving Dante by his and Danny's apartment.

It's a good thing that Vlad respects their decisions to not live in a fancy apartment or the mansion. Dante went to Danny's bedroom and sat by his bed, Dante let the tears flood out and roll down his cheeks, his sobs probably echoed in the room blaming himself for not being able to protect Danny at that time.

Blaming himself that he couldn't predict that Good Ol' Clockwork would do something like this for the 'best timeline', it made Dante both Furious and Sorrowed. He clutched his hands into a fist and grit his teeth lividly. He was going to take revenge on the person who made his brother suffer. He was going to kill them in the most gruesome way and use his servants in the ghost zone to torture them for life once he acquired their soul in his clasp.

And that Victim will be Jonathan Crane. The Scarecrow.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Dante walked out of his apartment building with his usual Cap and Mask but now he's carrying another Full Face Mask Resembling... A Badger. [ How Neat. ]

Dante decided he would take out some of his anger to a criminal for tonight and trespassed back in crime alley waiting for something to happen as he smoked a single cigarette.

Danny didn't like it when he smoked but now he'll only do it if Danny is never around, he does not want to be a bad influence to his baby brother and baby sister. He breathes out a whiff of smoke.

He glances to his side and from far off he saw Red Hood, Arms Crossed and staring at him. "You're back. Why are you here this time?" Red Hood asked curiously. "I need to vent out my anger on a shitty person tonight." Dante answered bluntly as he puffs out another cloud of smoke.

"Ugh, I hate that smell." Red Hood huffs as he waved off the smoke of the cigarette, it made Dante chuckle amusingly. "Never smoked before?" Dante asked curiously, "Actually, I quit when I was younger, gotta take care of these lungs yk." Red Hood Muses back and both of them chuckle.

Dante likes that they get along quite well it made Dante smile under his mask. "Care to tell me, why exactly are you doing beating up criminals in my turf?" Red Hood leans on the wall beside Dante. "Highest Crime, Called Crime Alley, do I need to list everything?" Dante answered, Red Hood thought for a moment before answering "...Touche".

Dante gave Red Hood a Biscuit he had saved for Ellie but forgot to give. "So why broody?" Hood asked him as he turns up his mask just half his face exposed. "Someone hurt my Baby Brother, I'm contemplating whether to kill them or torture them." Dante answered Bluntly. "... That's a crime yk, the bats won't be too happy about Murder Cases. Who even hurt your baby brother then?" Red Hood are the biscuits slowly, now wondering who the fuck made them cuz these are delicious.

"Scarecrow, My baby brother got caught up in his attack. He suffered from memories of the past we both never wanted to remember again..." Dante clutches his Cigarette. "Well Fuck, is he okay now? How old was he?" Hood was baffled but curiousity got the best of him and he kept asking.

"Doc says he's gonna be fine... He's... 13 and turning 14 in the next few months." Dante lit another cigarette. "I say do what you wanna do, I don't give a fuck as long as it's not my business and honestly, he deserves it." Hood chuckles as he ate all the biscuits, "Who made these? These are heavenly delicious!".

"I did, thank you for liking them." Dante chuckled and smiled, Red Hood flinched and Dante swears he saw his cheeks heat up but he doesn't pay it any mind and groans as he stands back up straight.

"You should start a bakery" Red Hood teases him, "I'd totally buy everything." Red Hood ate the rest of the cookies in the small packet.

Dante smiled softly " I already work as barista and it's only a hobby so no. Anyways I'm off Hood, you made my anger go away. Thanks for amusing this Feral Mind of Mine." Dante walked off and waved at Red Hood as he does so. "I'll see you soon again." Dante pulls out a card and swiped it that it flew right in Hood's hand which took him aback as he stepped Backwards in awe.

"Damn! What's this?" Hood asks from afar and Dante turns his head to Look at Hood with a wide ear to ear grin, too unnatural to be a human one. "My Number. Have fun with it~" Dante teases as he chuckled and put his Mask back, eventually turning to a corner and disappearing out of nowhere like Hood remembers the first time they met.

▂[𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲, 𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗, 𝟖:𝟎𝟎 𝐀𝐌]▂

Dante groans as he wakes up from his dreadful sleep, he looks at the time in his phone and goes to kitchen to make coffee..

He notices Red Hood has Texted Him. Nice.

He decides to reply later and instead look at the messages Ellie has sent him.

𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐧 [𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝]

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 : 𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐧.

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐆𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫:𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡? 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐮𝐫 10 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭.

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞.𝐩𝐧𝐠

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐆𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫:𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐦??? 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬??

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞:𝐓𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐮𝐡.

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡: 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 8 𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧/𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦??

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭:𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄?!? 𝐔𝐠𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑!!

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐆𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫: 𝐎𝐡 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐈𝐌 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍!!

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐁𝐮𝐡-𝐁𝐲𝐞.

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡:𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, ��𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰. 𝐘𝐤. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐆𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫:𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, ����𝐢𝐩𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚.

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡:𝐈𝐦 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝.

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐆𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫: 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐞.

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭: 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐞.

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐆𝐚𝐲𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡: 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐄𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Dante chuckled to himself amusingly as he got ready for work whilst examining the Blueprint of Arkham Asylum. It is honestly surprising that they even got this confidential information within a day. Determined kids are terrifying to say the least.

He planned to infiltrate Arkham Asylum at night and it would have been the easiest part. The not so easy part is finding scarecrow's cell in that giant building, but thanks to Ellie and Tucker he now knows. He hides his evil unnatural grin behind his facemask as he worked in the Cafe as Normal.

'Oh how I miss the taste of Blood.' He mutters to himself.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

[yanderes-galore]

Hope your have a good day. Can I please have a general yandere concept for Dio from JJBA?

Was originally going to do Part 3 and Part 1 together, but for simplicity I will focus on Part 3 since you just said DIO.

Yandere! DIO Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Violence, Blood, Murder, Marking/Biting, Stalking, Mature themes/Mentions of intimacy (It's DIO...), Possible OOC DIO, Dark themes, Controlling behavior, Mentions of being a pet, Stockholm syndrome mentioned, Blood drinking (Vampire...), Forced/Dubious relationship.

DIO is often depicted as a selfish character... obviously.

He has a tragic backstory, but it doesn't make his actions excusable.

Plus, Part 3 DIO is the most intimidating and popular form of DIO.

He's more experienced with his charisma and immortality now.

Although he's also more...deranged.

It's been proven during his Jotaro fight he's lost his mind more than before.

Which is what happens when you're isolated under the sea for countless decades.

DIO surrounds himself with cronies, people who listen to his charisma and allow him to use them.

They are his disposable pawns, Stand Users to send out against his foes.

DIO does not have many he truly cares about.

While he respected Jonathan, he was yet another asset to use for power.

Enrico Pucci was the closest person he could consider a friend, but even then he had uses for Pucci.

By that logic, it's hard to see DIO having an obsession.

He has his fill with people he finds attractive, he's known to be seductive after all.

Having DIO, the vampire lord and user of The World, obsessed with some human?

Unlikely... but not impossible.

Perhaps you are another person he finds a connection with.

Similar to Pucci he finds it enjoyable to speak with you, or at the very least toy with you.

Maybe DIO even managed to charm you with his charisma and seduction?

DIO is known to be considered attractive, handsome, or beautiful to people of all kinds.

However, his obsession is the only one he feels anything mutual with.

He isn't sure why, after all he's DIO.

He needs no one.

Although, something about having you in his chambers makes him... comforted.

He could have a book in his hands and his crimson gaze would wander to your form.

He likes marking what's his and seeing you curled beside him like some pet pleases him.

That's all humans are to him anyways... for the most part.

But you, well for some reason you're different to him.

DIO is certainly one of the more dangerous yanderes in JJBA.

He's a strong character who could easily keep his obsession under constant surveillance.

What started as a mere night of temptation for you both leads to him... attached.

What's scarier than regular DIO?

DIO willing to do anything to keep a certain person by his side.

DIO is the kind of character who would kill with little hesitation.

The World makes getting rid of those undesirables too easy.

Safe to say those who follow him are forced to treat you with respect as you're "the favorite".

DIO doesn't 100% see you as an equal.

Over time he sees you in a better light, but it's not like you're an even match in terms of strength.

That's fine for him, you fight less.

If anyone is jealous of your position and tries to hurt you, gone.

It's instant... yet still quite messy.

The first few times scare you.

You thought you were going to be attacked, only for the attacker to be dead in an instant.

Blood barely touches DIO's clothes, but you know he did it.

That alone makes you submit more, terrified of angering your lord.

DIO definitely uses fear tactics for your obedience.

He loves you in his own twisted way, but he still wants to view you as obedient to only him.

He can't have you running out of his home, he can't have you tending to his followers, he doesn't even want you to leave his chambers or library at times.

His words are the rules.

Based on how intimidating DIO is, there's a good chance you'll listen.

You can't get far from him.

It's like DIO always has an eye in you, using The World to put you back where he wants you with a smug grin.

Sometimes it's funny to mess with your head.

In fact, messing with how you think is DIO's specialty.

Being as manipulative as he is, he'd degrade you and mess with your mind.

He wants to make you realize you can't live without him.

He's the closest damn thing to a god and you should worship him.

Good luck escaping, DIO's beat you to it.

He doesn't bother with punishment much, seeing you look so defeated when he drags you back is enough.

However... He doesn't mind showing his claim over you.

While DIO may have nights with others, he's particularly attentive to you.

He marks your skin with his bites.

While he's rough when it comes to intimacy, he's willing to be more gentle since he "loves" you.

As long as you worship him, see him as your lord, then he'll reward you accordingly.

He just loves it when you look so needy with him.

DIO seems like he's fine with PDA.

As said before, it shows others he claims you....

He'd keep you on his lap, claws digging into your sides tightly while speaking to a servant.

You sit in his lap so well like a pet, too.

DIO genuinely seems like the type of yandere who would hold obsession by the back of the shirt like a kitten by the scruff when dragging them back.

He can't go out during the day, so he locks you in with him until night.

Even then he keeps you in one place or by his hip.

A goal of his is to make his darling only think about him.

Essentially... psychological manipulation until stockholm syndrome or something similar.

He'd rather you reciprocate willingly... but whatever gets him his desired results, yeah?

After all, you should feel loved and honored.

He doesn't do this to anyone.

Other humans are just meals for him.

He uses them, then disposes of them.

You? Well, you're his beloved.

Those bite marks aren't just for show.

You're someone he can feel connected with.

Don't you believe him?

DIO definitely guilts you into listening.

He promises you all sorts of things, all sorts of luxuries if you just stay.

He seals the deal with hungry kisses, nibbling your skin with a grin.

DIO both views you as a partner and a pet.

Your blood is a sweet treat to him, but he'd never drain you dry.

You are a delight to him.

He wouldn't give you up to anyone.

Anyone who tries to take you never gets close.

He messes with your mind so much that you may accept him.

Yes... he loves you... so you should dedicate yourself to him.

Once you give in he's beyond pleased.

DIO really can give you nearly anything if you dedicate yourself to him.

He has... disposable resources to use.

You want something? He'll send someone to fetch it.

It's the least he can do to reward you.

DIO is a selfish man who knows he can get what he wants if he says or does the right thing.

The human mind is full of desires he can easily bend to his will.

You, his beloved, can be controlled all the same.

However, due to his obsession with you, he's gentle with his tactics.

You'll learn you need him eventually.

He may be a selfish man who's ruthless with those under and against him...

But with you, he feels more desperate than ever to keep you under his hold.

"You're mine. Everything you do is for me. You need no one else, dear... I can satiate every need and desire you have."

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Six / Part Seven (YOU ARE HERE) / Part Eight

A03

If the odd, small sounding Steve had been a weird pill to swallow, then the loudly swearing, furious one might as well have been a different person.

Worse?

He wanted Gareth and Eddie to stay behind.

“You are not going to the lab by yourself.” Eddie deadpanned, blocking the door while Steve acted like an agitated snake in front of it.

“You don’t understand.” Steve hissed, weaving back and forth on his feet, like he was trying to find a way out without bowling Eddie over.

Or breaking a window.

“Then help us understand!” Eddie shot back, throwing his hands up. 

Which was just the crux of the issue--because Steve seemed fine to talk about the lab being a horrible place, but kept refusing to answer why.

“You don’t have to tell us the full thing man, but give us something.” Gareth pleaded, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

Not his fault Steve was setting off his own anxiety.

The jock stepped back, running a hand through his hair and making a mess of it.

"I don't have the time." He stressed, anger, worry and pure fear mixing together in his tone.

In a mutter he added; "You wouldn't believe me anyways."

Tentatively, Gareth reached out, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

For the first time since they’d known each other, Steve didn’t react to being touched.

"Eddie and I are gonna go no matter what. So you can either give us a heads up now, or you can be mad at us later when we just follow you anyway.” Gareth said, a hell of a lot calmer than he felt.

Steve had turned partly to glare at him, but seemed to at least let the words sink in. To get through that no, really, they were going, and all this arguing was just wasting time. 

Not that Gareth trusted it. 

"I don't want you guys getting hurt." Steve burst out, and it looked like it cost him to admit even that much.

Like it was inevitable and all this was a Hail Mary attempt to keep them from that future.

Eddie seemed to pick up on it too, because he caught Steve's gaze and held it. "You're a part of Hellfire now. If you were in that lab, we'd be all coming for you. Not one of us--all of us.”

He followed it up by invading Steve’s space, jamming a finger into the jock's chest.

“I don’t know why you think we’d be okay with you getting hurt." Eddie stared hard at him, voice as serious as Gareth had ever heard it. “You’re our friend, too Steve. We’re not abandoning Tiff and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang, and we're also not letting you do something that has you this freaked out, alone.”

Which is what this all seemed to keep coming down to. How Steve was willing to throw himself at problems, how he kept wanting to handle his own issues, while trying to manage everyone else so that he was the only target.

The only person in the know, the only one in the line of fire. 

Like he was a burden instead of a person. 

Gareth kept wondering how the hell that had happened. If this had been anyone else he would have written it off as some macho bullshit, but Steve wasn't like that. He'd didn't need to be the one white knight. 

The fear he spoke with had always been too real, for that. 

It wasn't like they--or at least, Eddie and himself, hadn't picked up that something was happening, either. Something big. 

Given the weird, hushed conversations Steve kept have with Nancy, and Jonathan and even the kids sometimes…

Once, just once, Gareth had seen Steve talk to the Chief of Police. The asshole had looked awkward as hell, giving Steve a few pats to his shoulder, and Steve looking equally as awkward, leaning into it--but they looked like two people who'd gone through the same shit and now were stuck together. Not a police officer giving a warning to a teenager. Not even a family friend catching up. 

Something was up in Hawkins and now wasn't the time to dog Steve about it, but Gareth still wished he'd give them a hint. 

A tidbit, a morsel, of what the fuck had him so riled up.

“And if all this means our friends are in danger, then we're absolutely going too.” Eddie continued, nearly nose to nose with Steve.

Steve put his hands on his hips, frustration written all over his face--but he didn’t step away. "I don't think you'd be okay with it, it's just-- I'm just--already involved! This is how it’s been."

As if that wasn’t fucking alarming.

"And now, so are we.” Eddie threw back, pointing at the phone. "It’d help if you at least told us what to watch out for, but if not then we need to stop arguing so we can go help.”

That definitely got through.

Steve tapped a foot, blowing out a breath and overall acted as if Gareth and Eddie were the ones being unreasonable here.

(Or a pissed off single mother of six, not that Gareth was voicing that image.)

"Fine." He snapped finally, pinching the bridge of his nose and backing away from Eddie. “Fine! But you listen to me when we get out there, and if I tell you two to run, I need you to trust me and run.”

A grin tried to blast across Eddie’s face, the smug one he wore when he won and he knew it, but he covered it up before Steve saw.

Gareth doubted it’d take much to slide Steve right back into trying to keep them at the trailer, or straight up pull some dirty ass move to force it.

(He belatedly wondered if he should worry about Steve trying to stab one of Eddie’s tires out, but didn’t think the older teen would go that far.

Not yet, anyway.)

"I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't believe me." Steve spoke over his shoulder, blowing through the door the second Eddie got out of the way, marching down the steps to his Beemer. "But let’s just say that lab did a lot worse than create shit like rabid dogs, and a few of their creations might still be there. Grab a weapon!"

“I thought there wasn’t any rabid dogs!” Gareth protested at the same time Eddie said;

"So the cops can get us on felony charges? What is trespassing not enough for you?"

Eddie shook his head, following Steve down to the gravel. "No thanks, man!"

“I never said their weren't rabid dogs at all, I said--wait, who told you that?” Steve asked, trying to turn and face Gareth but Eddie simply pushed him forward, kept him moving.

“They’ve waited for us long enough.” He whispered lowly, as Gareth scrambled about for something to use.

Managed to fetch the fire poker he knew Wayne kept around to scare away coyotes, or rival drug dealers, or anything else wandering about.

If Steve said bring a weapon, he'd bring a damn weapon.

Felony charges or not.

"The cops won't charge us. Not as long as Hopper’s the one who gets there first.” Steve said and the desperation in his voice had faded a little, revealing something hard and self-assured underneath.

Not cocky, but with the strength Hellfire had when approaching a boss or baddie they had conquered once before and were familiar with. 

"And if El's involved? He will get there first." Steve said firmly, whipping the backdoor of his car open and yanking a bag out.

A bag that had muffled squawking coming out of it.

Steve snatched a walkie talkie out from it, interrupting a stream of high pitched, upset nonsense coming out the tinny speakers.

Gareth caught someone half asking, half yelling if "-literally anyone could pick up!" before Steve hit the talk button.

"What's happening!?" He demanded, as he slammed the car door and stormed to the trunk.

"Steve!" Several voices yelled at once, the speakers shrieking in static feedback.

One beat out the others, as its owner screeched into the walkie in a tone that only children under fourteen and small dogs seemed to be capable of. "Where the hell have you been!? We called a code red an hour ago!"

"Bitch later Henderson, explain now." Steve commanded, picking out a bat with fucking house nails hammered into it.

Several of which were stained a rusted, blood-red.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Steve with his mouth ajar as the nails gleamed lazily in his porchlights. 

Gareth couldn't blame him; his own heart had just picked up speed.

Steve gave the bat two experimental twirls, flipping it easily in his hand, before he seemed satisfied. Both the weapon and the movement worked together, elevating Steve into something straight out of the fantasy novels Hellfire traded around.

Like a fucking paladin come to life.

Gareth felt his breath hitch at the way it highlighted the guy's biceps, already on display since Steve had shoved his sleeves up. The movement was so smooth and well practiced that it was clear this was his weapon of choice--and that he’d definitely used it before.

Gareth wasn't even attracted to Steve Harrington, but one couldn't be blamed for having eyes.

"Mike insisted he saw lights on at the lab, and Will thought he might have felt something--" Henderson started, before being abruptly interrupted by someone on his end.

"He did feel something, Dustin!"

"Shut up, I'm talking to Steve!”

"Stop arguing and give me the short version. You're all in the lab?" Steve cut in.

‘It should be illegal to sound that annoyed while moving like that.’ Gareth thought idly, as Steve dropped the bat to the ground, then propped it up against his car.

He waved Eddie and Gareth over, one hand going to cover the walkie talkie’s speakers as it spat static. ‘Pick one.’ He mouthed, in the exact same way Gareth’s mom did when she was trying to talk to him and someone on the phone at the same time.

With a short glance at each other, they went.

"--we got to the lab and El and Max were already here--" Dustin tried again, and once again was talked over, making the conversation extremely hard to follow.

Kids, God.

"-You told us to meet you here-"

"-and there were these older kids running around-'

"-excuse you, tiny bratling, we are not kids-"

"Was that Grant?" Gareth found himself asking, as Steve waved a hand above his open trunk distractedly, like a vendor showing off wares.

Except instead of trinkets, it held a gun, a knife and a fucking candlestick.

The latter of which sported another suspicious red stain.

There was a second explosion of noise, and what sounded like multiple walkie's being fought over before a young, female voice came on, its owner having apparently won the tug of war.

"The idiots thought they saw something but it turned out to just be some teenagers breaking into the lab for fun." She scoffed, and sounded suspiciously like a Tiff Jr.

It took a second, but Gareth finally placed the voice to the redheaded girl--the one who rolled her eyes a lot.

"The wall and part of the floor collapsed, some guy fell through a hole into a locked room and El thinks the collapse wasn't an accident." The words were spoken rapid fire, like a front line soldier relaying information. "She and Will both feel something."

Eddie picked up the knife while Gareth simply held up his fire poker.

Steve nodded to them, and closed the trunk.

"Can you all get out of there safely?" He asked.

"El thinks if we leave, the--thing here will attack the guy that's stuck."

'Thing' Gareth mouthed to himself.

Not a person.

Not a dog, or bear, or--anything else.

A thing.

"Fuck." Steve spat, taking his hand off the talk button so no one on the other side heard.

"She and Will aren't sure what it is yet but they're thinking it's from the Upside Down."

After a brief pause wherein someone could be heard shouting in the distance, she sarcastically added; "Honestly I'm happy to leave the guy that's stuck here, he's really annoying--"

"No sacrificing Stewart!" Steve snapped instantly, and despite all the swearing and dramatics, having contact with the kids seemed to ease something in him.

His movements were no longer frantic, back and shoulders looser.

Even the way he talked seemed to unclench, like he'd been told the worst had come and now that it was finally here, he could deal with it.

"If you're sure, because I'm pretty sure Billy is gonna start looking for me soon." Max argued.

Steve groaned. "I'll handle him if he shows up."

For the first time since Steve had picked up the walkie, silence descended.

Gareth wasn't exactly an expert in such things, but it felt judgmental.

"Are you gonna handle it like the last time you handled it? Cause we don't have anything to knock him out with and I don't know if your head can--"

"Thank you Max, but I can deal with him." Steve cut in immediately, face flaming and yeah, they were definitely out of whatever protective crazy mode Steve had started off in. "This time I have my bat and backup. So unless your brother has taken to carrying stacks of plates around, I think I'll be fine!"

"Step brother." Max corrected immediately, huffing.

Then in a slightly quieter voice, she added: "Hey Steve? Get here fast."

"I'm coming. Steve over and out." He said firmly, like an older brother reassuring a younger sibling.

How the hell the guy had ever managed to appear like a heartless asshole was beyond Gareth.

Apparently it was beyond Eddie too because the guy was practically drooling with heart eyes in Steve's direction.

The kids signed off, before quiet, blessedly descended.

"Can I ask one question?" Gareth asked, as Steve cursed at the finally silent walkie talkie.

Steve stopped, entire chest heaving in a sigh.

"Yeah, one." He said, as though even that cost him a lot.

Out of the corner of his eye Gareth watched Eddie shake himself to awareness, and then try to flip the knife with the same move Steve used on the bat's handle.

He fumbled it immediately, chasing the blade as it clattered to the ground.

"Why a candlestick?" Gareth asked quickly, before Steve turned and witnessed Eddie's awkward, scrambling retrieval.

"Jonathan tends to grab the weirdest shit as a weapon." Steve responded. "He's used a trophy, multiple chairs, a lamp," he made an etc. all gesture, as if any of that actually explained things instead of causing about ten more questions.

"The candlestick actually worked pretty well so I kept it." He finished.

"Jonathan Byers?" Eddie said, holding the knife once more and clearly pretending he'd never tried to copy Steve. "How very Cluedo of him."

Steve frowned, nose scrunching in confusion. "Cluedo?"

"He means the game Clue. It's called Cluedo in Europe, Eddie's just a tabletop snob." Gareth rambled anxiously, because throwing Jonathan Byers wielding a candlestick into the mix was just the icing on top of the weird cake.

Part of him wondered if it would be rude if he asked Steve to spin the bat again, while the other part vaguely wondered if any of this was actually happening.

Maybe Eddie had accidentally laced the pot with a hallucinogenic.

(Frankly he wasn't sure how he'd have missed the addition of extra drugs, but hey; you couldn't say that made any more sense than Steve Harrington, small town golden boy, parading around with a fucking bat with nails in it, using a walkie talkie to speak to children about how a thing might try to attack one of their friends.)

The kid’s involvement at least, made a little bit of sense.

They were young but they weren't that young--and they also weren't as quiet as they thought they were.

Particularly not when they were riled up at the arcade.

Gareth knew the lot of them thought one of the girls had superpowers. He also knew they often pretended Will Byers, the kid who'd gone missing, had spent some time acting as a "spy" for whatever evil they all pretended to be battling.

He'd mostly assumed it was a D&D-slash- LARP kind of thing, or even just traumatized kids playing pretend to cope with what had happened, but now?

"I might have lied about just having one question." Gareth admitted as Steve picked up his bat.

"I'll explain some of it later, after we get them out." Steve said, as if Gareth might actually trust him to do so after doing his damndest to dodge giving an explanation. 

"Lead on, Sir Harrington." Eddie said before Gareth could say just that, like the lovestruck idiot he was. "We're going to need both cars to carry our wayward friends home, so Gareth and I will follow your lead."

Eddie spun his keys around his fingers, and given the smirk on his face, Gareth would bet money he was hoping it looked as cool as Steve's bat handling.

It didn't.

"Provided you promise to try not to lose us, because I've lived here all my life, I know where the lab is." He finished, and somehow managed to make the words sound fun and not the blatant warning it was.

Steve nodded once, hard. "Alright. Stay close to my car, and flash your high beams twice if you run into any problems--or see like, people in suites."

"People in suites?" Eddie asked, the knife still clutched awkwardly in his hand.

"Government agent kinda dudes, they're easy to spot." Steve said, like he was cautioning them to look out for deer darting across the road. "They usually look like they shouldn't be wherever they are."

"Alright." Gareth said, before his brain could come up with a list of questions regarding that.

Steve slung himself into the front seat of his car, Gareth claiming shotgun in Eddie's van shortly thereafter.

They waited to let Steve out first, and then stayed right on his tail as Steve promptly broke multiple laws to get to the lab.

"So this is all ominous as hell, right?" Eddie said, metal music pouring from the vans speakers and eyes on the taillights of the beamer.

"Oh dude, incredibly ominous. There was blood on that candlestick. " Gareth said, still in disbelief.

Whose candlestick had that even belonged to, originally? At what point in all this had Steve decided to hammer nails into a baseball bat?

Nevermind the weapon he was trying not to think about in the trunk of Steve’s car.

The gun.

Gareth knew instinctively why neither of them had gone for it. Eddie's father had drilled into him that the extra charge for carrying was never worth it and Gareth's own father had a firm "if you point it then you might as well have used it" mentality.

Steve didn't look like the kind of person to handle killing someone well himself, and yet the gun remained, locked up in the back of his trunk.

An option he'd offered to both Eddie and Gareth without bothering to fully fill them in.

"Blood on the bat too." Eddie said, dragging Gareth's attention back to the present.

Which at least, gave Gareth an opening for familiar ground. "I'm surprised you noticed that, given you looked like you lost all the blood in your head when he started swinging it around."

"Shut up." Eddie grumped, and though normally Gareth would tease him more, he found he just...couldn't. 

Not right now.

"I'm more worried that they all kept calling whatever the thing was…well. A thing." He said, because God was it bothering him. “I mean I guess it could be an animal still but the way they were talking about it…” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

"Personally I'm hoping for monsters." Eddie said.

Gareth turned to shoot him a look. "Seriously Ed’s?"

"Mmm. Because if it's not monsters Gareth, it's humans," Eddie tapped the steering wheel in time with Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls. "and humans scare me more than anything."

 Gareth leaned back, letting the seat absorb him, his own eyes sticking to the back of Steve's head. "I guess." 

Not that he wanted to deal with either.

Best case scenario in all this?

Everyone got out safely, and they drilled Steve into what the hell had happened to him, later.

Not that life was ever that simple.

xXx

Tiff met them outside the lab.

The place was desolate. Abandoned with the kind of tell-tale signs that boldly stated something awful had happened there.

Papers and a chair were still left in the guard shack and a phone dangling off the hook completing the look. The lab itself was dotted with broken windows, the corresponding shattered glass glittering all over the ground.

All it was missing was some lightning and it would be a great location for a slasher film.

One set of odd, claw-like marks on the ground later, right near where they all parked, and Gareth abruptly decided he'd rather focus on Tiffany rather than follow that thought more. 

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her expression annoyed, but the dead giveaway to her freaked out status was the way she couldn't seem to stop moving. Not even after they’d gotten out of their respective cars and started towards her.

Gareth hadn't seen her this bad since the day she temporarily lost her SAT guide.

It didn't bode well for the adventure ahead.

"Finally." She complained as the trio approached. "Did you three stop for milkshakes on the way!?"

"Traffic Tiff, you know how it is." Eddie said with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

She simply gave a pointed look at her watch before glaring back at them.

"Steve!" Someone yelled, and Dustin promptly launched out of some corner at the older teen, babbling a mile a minute.

“Slow down, God!” Steve interrupted, doing a clear head to toe sweep of the kid. “You okay? Everyone good? Nobody dead?”

“Not yet!” Dustin said chipperly, which caused Steve to swat at his hat.

“Are you okay?” Gareth asked Tiff, as Steve and Dustin began talking rapid-fire, in the kind of way that spoke of past events and made little to no sense to anyone not in the loop.

"Yeah." Tiff nodded stiffly. “Would have been a lot happier if Stewart had listened to me for once, but.” She shrugged, her version of ‘it is what it is.’

Eddie reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Is everyone else in the lab?” He asked, peering about.

He got another nod. “The room the idiot’s stuck in is just up the stairs and down the hall a bit. I’m amazed he didn’t get hurt, he fell through the ceiling.” She shook her head, clearly worried and trying her best not to show it. “Everyone’s kind of been wandering between there and here, but the random children who showed up are insisting we all walk around in groups.”

She turned to eye Dustin, before looking towards the entryway to the lab.

“Probably a good thing given the wall collapsed, but they all think there’s some,” She huffed, arms shrugging helplessly. “monster lurking about.”

Gareth stared at the lab entrance for a moment, once again taking in random stains and smears that were all around them. Spotted a few more of those weird, elongated claw marks raking down the stairs, spread more like fingers than anything else, and the group of them that surrounded a suspiciously large stain in the entryway. 

“What made you guys want to explore the lab tonight anyway? It’s Thursday.” Eddie asked. 

This earned him a more animated eye roll.

“Would you believe me if I told you I owed Jeff a favor, and he owed Grant a favor, and Grant got into it with Stewart over whether or not the lab had glowing goo hiding inside?"

“Glowing goo?” Eddie and Gareth echoed as one.

“Like what Mikey the bartender was saying last time he was drunk? The whole thing with that weird green goo that fell out of some truck?” Gareth asked, and it wasn’t the stupidest thing that had riled up Stewart and Grant but by God was it up there.

Tiff sighed a second time, sounding pained. “Yeah. That goo. Stewart kept insisting Mikey got a “hot tip” that some military guys knew it was here,” Her fingers came up to make the quotation marks, somehow managing to make the movement sarcastic. “and wanted it moved over to that new mall they’re building. Starcourt.”

“So Stewart had to come see it.” Eddie finished, as if he wouldn’t have also been dying to go get a look.

Frankly, Gareth himself was slightly annoyed he and Eddie hadn’t been called upon as it were.

“Mikey also apparently believes something else wants the goo and chased the military guys who were here out of the building. That part must be going around, because the kids here are pretty insistent there’s a monster inside.” Tiffany added, waving a hand towards Dustin.

Eddie made a move to slung his arm over her shoulder, giving her a full body squeeze before letting her go.

Tiff allowed it, and for the briefest of seconds, even seemed to lean in.

“Hello Steve, nice murder weapon.” She greeted loudly, entirely unphased by the nail bat in his hands as Hellfire’s jock and his favorite small annoyance stepped up to them. “Having met your children, I have to say, your parenting skills are utter shit.”

Dustin frowned up at her, instantly offended. “Steve’s our friend.” He corrected, angrily emphasizing ‘friend,’ right over the top of Steve’s loud protest of;

“It’s not a murder weapon, jeez!”

“If anyone is lacking in skills it’s your little group’s!” Dustin cut in, waving a hand around. “Not one of you was prepared for breaking into the lab! No weapons, no back up, you’re the only one who even had quarters and one of you isn’t even wearing a jacket. If we hadn’t shown up you guys would have been in some real shit!”

Tiff stared flatly down at Dustin, ignoring Steve entirely. “Sure, pipsqueak."

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve asked, before Dustin could fuss more.

“Glowing goo, apparently.” Eddie answered, moving with him.

Tiffany took the hint, starting to walk towards the stairs as Dustin trotted forward next to her, clearly intending to “lead” just as much as she was.

Gareth watched from the corner of his eyes as Steve automatically stepped to Dustin’s right, making sure the kid was surrounded on all sides.

‘Fuckin’ softie.’ He thought fondly, even as he gripped the fire poker he held in his hand tighter.

Eddie had managed to stow the knife away, making it vanish somewhere among his jacket and Judas Priest shirt, so it was just him and Steve looking like lunatics.

Thankfully, Tiff had spared Gareth her opinion on the fire poker. 

“Goo?” Steve asked, and unlike the rest of them, he sounded downright alarmed.

“So there’s this bartender at the Hideout.” Eddie started, launching into the story with a lot more pizzazz than Gareth thought it really required. He and Tiff traded glances, and Gareth got to see the exact moment Dustin’s eyes caught sight of Eddie and went dinner plate wide.

Gareth would have nudged Tiff, maybe made a joke about how Eddie was gaining a new sheep just by his terminal need to be the loudest person in a room, but a movement on the left caught his gaze.

Gareth stopped, as something unmistakably fleshy slunk back in the shadows, one weirdly shaped paw flashing as something caught the light. 

Fear raked through him, freezing Gareth dead to the spot, hands tightening on his fire poker.

“Hey, guys? He asked, interrupting whatever story Eddie had inevitably gone off of (likely one of the many, many backstories involving Mikey the bartender’s belief in UFOs) “That monster the kids think they saw. What uh, what’s it supposed to look like?”

“Why?” Tiff asked, at the same time Eddie yelled at him to; “Keep up, Gary, god!”

Gareth didn’t answer, instead staring deep into the shadows.

Nothing moved.

‘You’re seeing things.’ He told himself finally. ‘Unless it went through solid fucking wall, you would still be able to see it. You're just stressing yourself out because Steve’s being weird.’

Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time he thought he saw something when his anxiety started acting up.

"So Gare, did you bring the fire poker along because of the monster?" Tiff asked, amused, as she briefly dropped back towards him.

Clearly, she'd just been waiting for an opening to tease him about it. 

He flushed scarlet. 

"No!" He spat, hugging the thing closer.

A grin unfurled on Tiff's face, Cheshire-esque.

"I'm serious, Steve told us to bring it!" Gareth insisted, trying to look manly with it.

He knew he failed as badly as Eddie had earlier.

"You know, I'm starting to think Eddie's not the only one gone on our human fighter…" Tiff trailed off, raising one eyebrow, and causing Gareth to flip her off.

Thankfully that train of conversation was interrupted by loud arguing.

“We’re not cats Steve, you can’t just put us outside!” One of the kids was bitching, the group having caught sight of Steve and hustling over.

Jeff was seated on the floor in the hallway, one hand holding up his chin while Grant leaned against the wall next to him, both looking incredibly bored.

Across from them was a door that had looked like it had survived a full-blown seige. Cracks ran throughout the wood, and with the entire center of it bowed inward it was clear why no one could manage to get Stewart out of the room.

It was completely wedged in the frame, with thick enough edges to make it impossible to just pop it out by hand. 

The hoard of gremlins were harder to make out now that they were all clumped together, but Gareth quickly made out their very….unique outfits.

Only the girls had dressed normally, while the boys looking like they either were planning on robbing a train.

Bandana’s over their faces and all.

“Yes, I can actually.” Steve retorted in the exact same bitchy tone. "Tiffany can stay with you guys by the cars while the rest of us figure out how to get Stewart.”

"Thanks for volunteering me." Tiff said flatly, but alas, was ignored by the group at large. 

“Really? So you don’t want El to, you know. Help.” The terminally loud one spat.

“El’s gonna dump your ass if you don’t stop talking for her, Mike.” Steve warned, making the girl puff up proudly while Mike immediately cut a fearful glance to his girlfriend.

“And if El could have helped before, why wait for me to get here?” Steve continued, one hand on his hip, the other resting the nail bat over his shoulder, cutting in before Mike's scrambled apology derailed the conversation.

“I cannot move the door.” El admitted in that sort of flat, blunt way she spoke. “There is something here that is making my powers unstable.”

Steve pointed to her, face morphing into a clear “see?” gesture.

“Now unless Dustin is going to science the door open somehow--and I’m not saying you couldn’t,” Steve spoke the second part quickly, as Dustin’s mouth popped open, “then all of you are going to wait outside. Where the demo-the thing, isn’t.”

Gareth really, really hated how he kept referring to it as a thing.

One of the kids rolled their eyes and muttered; “We literally said we don’t know if it’s a--” and promptly got elbowed in the stomach for it.

Right.

Not suspicious at all.

“But we can help!” Dustin protested furiously.

Gareth wasn't sure if it was because Dustin truly thought he could help, or if it was because he wasn't used to the pushback.

For all that he was an only child, Steve had clearly inherited an older brother's prerogative of letting kids do stupid shit so long as he supervised (and typically, laughed at the outcome.

Gareth still fondly recalled the time Mike declared himself man enough to smoke.

Steve had conned him into chainsmoking outside the arcade until the kid finally threw up in the bushes on his fourth cigarette and declared Steve's smoking habit disgusting.)

“El could help.” Steve countered calmly. “Max probably, if I gave her my bat, but the rest of you are just moving targets. So make like a drum, and beat it.”

"That was lame, Steve." Dustin sniffed, while the other kids groaned loudly. “A real low effort pun.”

Steve just flicked his hand out in a shoo motion before leaning his bat up against the wall.

Jeff stared it before making immediate eye contact with Gareth, every inch of him screaming ‘what the hell!’

With a sigh, and an unfortunate side glance at Tiff, Gareth explained; “It’s for the monster.”

That at least, was easier than explaining Steve knew what was here and was doing his damndest not to tell them what it was.

Even if it made Tiff grin manically in his direction. 

His only relief was that Steve got her attention right after, calling "Heads up!" before tossing her his car keys. 

Because her hand eye coordination was superior to Eddie’s, she caught them easily.

If there's an emergency, get them out." Steve warned, voice just over the edge of too serious, losing the banter he’d kept up since they’d arrived.

"If there's an emergency we're coming back on to save your ass." Dustin snapped back, arms crossed, because of course he was listening.

“No.” Steve told him simply.

“Yes.”

“No, no, no-!”

Tiff let out a sharp whistle, the sound piercing in the echoing hallway.

"Gremlins with me!" She commanded, before catching Steve's eyes over their heads . "You fucking owe me, Harrington."

He nodded, before dropping a glare to the kids. "Just don't let them drive my car."

“God I can’t believe he’s still upset about that, it’s not like we fucked up the Camaro.” Mike complained loudly, allowing himself to be herded back outdoors.

“Max did hit a mailbox.” Lucas retorted, and then yelped a loud; “Ow, Max!” as he was presumably punished for voicing the fact out loud.

Their voices faded slightly as they went down the stairs, and Gareth managed to drag his attention back to the problem at hand.

One very fucked up door.

"Do you think we could kick it down?” Steve asked, as Eddie bent down to examine the door.

Refusing to look anyone in the face, Jeff said; “We may have tried that already.” 

“My darling lambs, you’re approaching this wrong.” Eddie cooed, and got several glares for it.

“The door might be fucked by the hinges here, are not. Looks like all I need is the right screwdriver and lucky for Stewart!--” He yelled his friend's name, banging on the door and no doubt hoping to spook him.

A muffled shout of “Screw you Munson!” was all he got for his efforts.

 “--I have my toolbox in my car.”

“Do I want to know what you have a toolbox for, Ed's?” Steve asked.

“Perfectly legal avenues only, I assure you.” Eddie replied, batting his eyelashes up at Steve innocently.

Grant and Jeff both gagged.

“Would the two of you gentlemen be so kind as to fetch me my box?” Eddie said, pulling out his keys and offering them up to Jeff. “I want to try one more thing. I don’t think it’ll work, but I can test it while you boys are gone.”

“He’s going to try to kick it in himself.” Gareth tattled flatly.

“I am not!” Eddie immediately denied, eyes wide in feigned hurt.

It was fake as shit.

“Let him!” Jeff said over as he got up. “That way I won’t be the only one getting made fun of for doing it!”

A car suddenly honked from outside, startling them all.

“Check that the shitheads aren’t murdering Tiff while you’re out there!” Steve called as Jeff and Grant took off towards the entrance, before moving out of Eddie’s way as he surged upwards.

“It’s more likely she’d be murdering them.” Eddie replied, and sure enough he was backing up like he was going to try and kick the door.

“Do you see how thick that thing is? The indent, here?” Steve sassed, pointing towards the giant dent slightly off center, where the door bowed inwards. “I’m pretty sure Jeff wasn’t the one who did that. These things are built to hold, man.”

“Ah but you’ve seen Jeffery's legs. Our beloved new cleric should stick to punching things, he’s not made for kicking.” Eddie said, tongue peaking out of his mouth as he sized up the door.

An odd, low chittering caught Gareth’s attention, the noise like nails on a chalkboard as the older teens continued to argue. 

“Have you seen yourself?” Steve asked point blank, hip cocked and bitch mode on. “You aren’t either.”

“Don’t be mean, Steven, just because I don’t have jock muscles--”

The chittering got louder, and Gareth found himself taking a few steps away from his friends, in the opposite direction of the stairs as he tried to figure out where the fuck it was coming from. 

A light at the farthest end of the long hallway gave out, barely noticeable. unless one was looking for it. Gareth hadn't even internalized the hallway had lighting, he'd been too busying with everything else--but it did. 

Likely the place had a backup generator, but that didn't explain why the lights in this hallway were on--and now, suddenly, giving out. 

'Maybe the kids did it...?' He thought, still trying to figure out why the chittering sounded like it was getting closer. 

“You’re going to break your leg.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to believe in people more Stevie? Have some faith?”

“I have faith that you’re face is about to hit the floor, does that count?”

Another light failed, giving the appearance of the hallway warping. Not all of it, just one weird wall, that seemed to stretch like something was trying to break out. 

"Okay but if I kick the door and it busts in, you owe me ten bucks."

"If you kick the door down not only will I give you ten bucks, Eddie, I'll go see that stupid new movie you won't shut up about with you." 

"Oh we'll be seeing Fright Night with or without my door busting talents--" 

Another light, out, and now Gareth could see a shape taking form. Later he'd swear it had actually, crawled out from the wall.

(Later, he'd find out the Upside Down creatures had a habit of doing that.)

He thought it was a tiger at first.

It has the same overall shape--long body with muscular shoulders, head low as it prowled forward.

Except the tail curled up over its back, hanging like a scorpion’s and its face…

It took a second for Gareth to make sense of what he was seeing.

The huge, oddly shaped bulb, like a flower’s before it unfurled.

Thick liquid drooled out from red tinged edges, dripping onto the floor. It was too far away to hear, but Gareth imagined the little plinks of noise it made anyway.

"Guys." He said, voice pitched impossibly high.

The Not-Tiger stepped further into the light, revealing it to be hairless.

Its skin was flecked red and grotesquely gray, with odd, thick folds of flesh hanging off its sides. Those pieces moved in weird little jerks and flutters, almost like another appendage entirely.

Another step forward, the weird, folded pieces of skin moving out and out and out on either side of it, hitching up in a U shape and oh, God.

They were wings.

'Lion body, scorpion tail, dragon wings.' A far off part of Gareth identified. 'It's missing the human face, but otherwise that's pretty dead on for a--"

"Manticore!" Gareth screamed, right as the things head split open into five petals filled with rows of fangs.

It screamed right back, then lunged at him, claws and teeth and tail all extending to attack.

[jaymari-lyn]

Fight or Flight (A Byler one shot)

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

The words rang painfully in Will’s head. It felt like a slap in the face, except he felt the sting in his heart. That kind of sentence spoken aloud already hurt enough, but to hear the words fall from Mike's lips made it infinitely worse.

Will felt the hot tears strain against the corners of his eyes. A fairy, a queer, a boy who doesn’t like girls—that’s all he’ll ever be, even to his best friend.

Will’s fists clench instinctively and through a fit of bubbling anger words begin to tumble from his mouth faster than he can catch them.

Words that he can never take back.

“Well, maybe it is!”

The deafening silence that follows that sentence is louder than any of the yelling that had taken place before. Mike stands in visible shock and so does Will. The next action either of them makes will define their friendship moving forward and they both know it.

Will knows it.

So he makes the most reasonable, self-preserving decision and grabs his bike to leave. He wants to run and never turn back, like the coward that he is. To just run away from his problems, his consequences, from the whole damn world entirely. Run away from everything, even from MIke.

Only Will Byers is a boy who loves very deeply and with his entire heart, so he doesn’t really want to run from Mike. He wants nothing more than to rush into Mike's arms and stay, but that could never—will never happen. Not in this universe, at least, or probably any universe. For in what universe could someone like Mike Wheeler ever love someone like him? Besides, Will is still just a coward, so he goes to run.

He’s swinging his legs over the seat of his well-loved bicycle—the one he would ride with Mike as well as the rest of the party—when Mike is broken from his trance-like state. In a swarm, he is suddenly all over Will, hands, body, words, and anything else that he could do to get Will to stay.

Mike’s lanky frame was now standing in the way of Will’s poorly thought-out escape.

Well, Shit.

Will didn’t even want to hear what he had to say since it was bound to be all those awful things he was sure Mike was thinking. Hearing them spoken would truly be a physical manifestation of his nightmares.

However, instead of hateful words or slurs, all Mike does is call out Will’s name, mixing quite a few swears in there as well.

“Will, please! Fuck! Shit!” cried out the Wheeler boy. “Don’t go, Will, please! Fuck!” The desperation in Mike’s tone startles Will, and even Mike himself.

He doesn’t care about you, Will’s brain reminds him.

As the surprise settles in the atmosphere like a thick layer of dust, rage fills up every fiber of the brunette’s being. Now that he’s had time to let the hurt subside a bit, Will realizes that he is so incredibly, awfully, nauseatingly angry.

Angry at Mike for treating him like shit lately, angry at the world for making him hate himself, angry at his deadbeat dad for somehow making him hate himself more than the world ever could. He was even angry at Mom and Jonathan for ever letting him think that there was nothing wrong with him, that he even deserved to exist. But most of all he was angry at himself for being a mistake.

Looking through his tears, he saw that Mike’s hands were still firmly placed onto his forearm and wrist, keeping him in place. Will could break free if he wanted, bike away, and try to extinguish the thought of Mike Wheeler from his brain forever, but he didn’t, he stayed.

Deep down, there has always been a part of him that no matter how much he was able to hate himself, he could never, ever, hate Mike. It’s that little bit of Will that wanted to rush back to him in the first place. And if Mike was going to be the stubborn asshole that he always is and try to stop Will from leaving, who was Will to resist the boy he was so terribly in love with?

However, just because he was going to hear Mike out, does not mean that intense fury has gone away. Will wasn’t used to this feeling, being mad at Mike, but he found himself unable to care, unable to give a shit about the terrible want to hurt Mike back. Mike, the one person who Will thought cared about him most, the person Will cared about most, had finally intentionally hurt him like he always knew he would one day—all it took was Will letting a bit of the real him shine through. God, he was so stupid for ever thinking that there was a slight chance Mike could love him.

“Is this all real? Or is it like the doctors say, all in your head?”

“I don't know. Just please don't tell the others, okay? They won't understand.”

“Eleven would.” Eleven, El, the girl that Mike loves. Will distinctly remembers holding back tears in that moment at the thought of Mike loving someone that wasn’t him, now Will is quite used to the thought, but it still cuts him deep, like a dagger piercing his heart.

“She would?” 

“Yeah. She always did. Sometimes I feel like I still see her. Like she's still around but she never is. I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, well, if we're both going crazy, then we'll go crazy together, right?”

“Yeah, crazy together.”

Will still feels like that, like he’s going crazy, only this time he doesn’t have Mike there to go crazy with him. He’s all alone in his insanity.

“Will,” Mike lets out softly, yet his grip on Will is still firm and strong. He was using what the rest of the party would teasingly call his “Will voice”, it was stupid, but it always had a way of making Will melt. He tried to suppress that thought. He was mad–no, furious–at Mike! Yet, Will still couldn’t get the feeling to fully go away when Mike looked at him with those kicked-puppy-looking eyes. Will was so in love it was not even fair.

The rain he hadn’t yet noticed until this very moment poured down hard onto the two of them. Each raindrop reminded Will of every tear he had shed, every tear he was shedding right now.

Will mutters a “What?” low enough that it is almost unheard, but Mike's careful ears pick up on his question.

“I’m sorry,” is all Mike can answer. Will finds it to be quite a pathetic answer.

“‘I’m sorry?’ Really? ‘I’m sorry?!’” Will's voice raises at the second “sorry”. “That’s all you can fucking say?! What are you sorry for Michael? For treating me like a fucking afterthought for the past 5 months, If you even bothered thinking about me? For ignoring me and walking all over me and expecting me to just take it? For only being my friend when it was convenient for you?! There’s a lot of shit you should be sorry for, you’re going to have to fucking specify.” The rage burns Will’s tongue as if he had just swallowed fire. He looks up to see Mike's jaw hanging loose, and his eyes welling up with tears.

Mike looks as though he’s lost for words, simply keeping his gaze locked on Will. He shakes his head, seeming to also shake away whatever trance he was just in as well. “All of it. Everything.”

“And what am I supposed to do?!” Will is now shouting, bound to gain an outsider's attention if he continues. “Just accept that you're sorry and move on?! Be your friend again just to be hurt all over again?! I’m sorry, Mike, but I can’t live like that! I can’t continue being your friend knowing that I’ll always care about you more than you’ll ever care about me!”

“That’s not true-” Will doesn't let him finish.

“It's not fair! It’s not fucking fair! None of it is! Why are you pretending like you care? I know you don’t, Mike.”

“I do care, Will! I care so much! More than I should care! I care!” Mike changes his grip to hold Will’s shoulders and shakes him to further get his point across.

Will begins to laugh through his tears, it’s a maniacal laugh born from pain, sadness, bitterness, and anger. “Then why did you do it? Why couldn’t you be a decent fucking friend to me?” The question hangs in the air, like the dark clouds lurking above them.

Mike’s voice is trembling now as he averts his eyes from Will. “I-I don’t know, Will.”

“No more lies, Mike! Why?” Will repeats because he's going to get a real answer from him if it's the last damn thing he does.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Mike is both screaming and fully sobbing at this point.

“Why?” Will’s voice is stone-cold.

“I CAN’T TELL YOU, ALRIGHT!?”

“Why!?”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T!”

“WHY!?”

“BECAUSE I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU, WILL!”

Both the boy's eyes widened in shock at what fell from Mike’s mouth. Mike’s hands fall from Will as he begins backing away, the most terrified look Will has ever seen is engraved on his face.

It’s hard to believe that what you've wanted for so long, the thing he’s wished upon every star for, the thing he prayed for to a god he doesn’t even believe in, all he’s ever dreamed of and yearned for since they met on that swingset, is something you can actually have. He wants to analyze everything Mike has ever said to him, every brush of legs on their movie nights, all the times they held hands while the other was scared, from horror movies to supernatural dangers, every soft gaze Mike held with him. Will wants to know if Mike loves him the way Will loves him. He wished he could read his mind, instead of being left with mixed signals and unexpected love confessions.

While Will thought, Mike was currently trying to make a quick escape while muttering one “I’m sorry” after another. Will then realized that his thinking was keeping Mike away, so he stopped thinking and let his impulsiveness take over.

Will found himself dropping his bicycle and running towards Mike to envelop him in a hug. He’s tense at first, but once Will nestles his face into the crook of Mike’s neck, he relaxes and rests his hands in a tight grip on Will’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Mike apologizes, his lips so close to Will that the words melt into his skin.

Will pulls back a bit, locking eyes with Mike, the chocolate brown of his irises looking as beautiful as ever. “You don’t have to be sorry. Mike, I love you too.” Will finally takes that leap of faith, saying the thing that has haunted him for years aloud. It feels good, it’s something he truly wants to admit, it’s no longer a secret that he’s left to carry alone.

Mike shakes his head in response, looking like he’s searching for a reason as to why Will doesn’t really love him. “You-you don’t get it. I don’t…I don’t love you as a friend.” 

Will’s breath quickens as his left hand moves to hold onto Mike’s forearm, similar to how Mike held his just minutes prior. It seems silly that Mike believes this, despite everything Will had confessed so far that evening. “Neither do I,” he tells him after a long, thoughtful pause..

The mutual confession rests heavily between them, neither knowing exactly what to do next. Society had told them over and over again that what they felt for each other was wrong, that it was something to hide and bury deep down until people like them couldn't feel it anymore. But here they were, admitting their love for each other in the quiet of the night

After a few moments, their faces begin to move closer, like two magnets attracting, and then their lips then find each other in a slow, hesitant kiss. It happens so quickly that it’s hard to tell who made the first move, but Will swears it was Mike who leaned in first.

It’s perfect by Will’s standards. There's those butterflies that everyone talks about fluttering in his stomach, there's the brand new feeling of warm lips on his, locked in a kiss that is slowly building up in both passion and speed, but there's also a familiarity of Mike that makes everything seem natural. As if he was always supposed to kiss Mike, and hold Mike, and love Mike. And, God, does he love Mike! He loves his smile, his laugh, his terrible jokes and puns, how caring he is (even if he is a shitty friend sometimes), and just about everything else that makes him Mike, even his bad moods and hot-headedness. He loves the soft side of him, the side that’s vulnerable and kind, and willing to let his guard down and cry. He loves the Mike he sees and the parts of himself that Mike is willing to bear to Will. He utterly and completely loves Mike, more than words can express.

A hand finds Will's hair, somehow pulling him closer until there's no room between the two (not that there was much beforehand). Their chests rise and fall against each other as they pull apart, both of them trying their best to breathe.

Mike smiles a gorgeous yet goofy, love-struck grin that Will wants to keep looking at forever. He returns his own loving smile and leans in to ignite another kiss.

In this moment Will no longer feels like a mistake, he feels so right with Mike. If being gay means having this, then he’ll take all the insults and beatings that he can, as long as he has Mike Wheeler. And if Mike can love him, maybe Will can find it in himself to try and love himself too. Maybe he can find whatever it is about him that Mike loves and learn to love it too. He wants to not only love Mike but love with Mike as well.

The two young boys continue to kiss in the rain, both completely soaked, but unable to care. They kiss as if it will be their only chance to do so, even though it’s only just the beginning of a lifetime of kisses shared between the best-friends turned lovers.

[write-and-wander]

In Words

Astarion x Gender Neutral Tav (Reader) Description: Astarion, haunted by the seemingly inevitable darkness his future holds, tries to take it into his own hands and cling to the bit of power he might still have. Yet, as the cliche goes, love always finds a way. Warnings: Suicide mention Author's Note: I wrote this immediately after finishing Act One of Baldur's Gate 3. Idk man I listened to The Pale Elf by Jonathan Young and this appeared in my brain and I had to put it somewhere.

Oddly enough, he was thinking about everything other than the situation at hand. He had accepted the fact that it would hurt. There was no other choice but to accept it. Life is full of pain, after all. He knew that well. But it’s full of so much beauty, too.

He thought about the friends he had made. Some that didn’t like him much at all, others that did. Either way, they were people who stuck together and risked their lives for his, as he did for theirs. They healed him, in some ways. Not just because he was free from the pain he had been forced to endure- though, that really was a treat. No, it was more than that. He was glad to die feeling the sun’s warmth on his skin. He loved that he could go wherever he pleased, do whatever he pleased. It was healing to have that freedom again.

Yet, they couldn’t save him. He knew that- and he knew that they were in denial about it. They would likely be angry with him, wondering if he had given up on them. No, he had just given up on himself; but they could believe whatever they like. Many have thought worse. Their collective anger would subside with time. Wounds would heal again. Even the wounds of the one he cared for most.

They wouldn’t just be angry- they would be grieved. He always knew their heart was far too soft for his. They loved him from the moment they found him. Even when he bore his teeth as a cornered animal, they loved him.

He had told them that he felt the same- that he wanted them from the very moment he had first laid eyes on them. They both knew this was a lie. He was more concerned about survival (and the security of his freedom), and his cold demeanor made it clear that being close to others was not his strong suit.

At the same time, it was hard to ignore his draw to them. Their immediate forgiveness upon the withdrawal of his knife from their neck sent him reeling. He was a monster to everyone but them, even in that moment- he was just another person. Someone with real feelings and thoughts that actually mattered. They were one of the few people who could keep up with his wit, and yet, they were the most gentle soul he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. They could whole-heartedly love the cold surface and the man that hides beneath. Their love just... was that way.

He really had come to love them, though. He was putty in their hands; a now-willing slave who would use whatever power he had to move the heavens and the earth for them without a second thought. Yet, he had never said it out loud. He couldn’t. He would never be able to do what must now be done if he had.

And so, with a steak leveled at his own chest, hands shaking as they might, he thought not of this moment. The darkness of his memories and the promise of their reprise had driven him here. The warmth of the sun was the only thing to embrace him now. Yet, his thoughts were on the beacons of light that were his friends. His mind wrapped itself in the comfort of his lover, who could gently carry him unto death through memory alone. Now, he would finally embrace the once thing he had begged for over the last 200 years. His fists tightened around the steak as he began to press it into his chest.

Then they called out his name.

Their voice was no longer an echo in his mind.

They were there, calling for him out loud, their quivering voice echoing against the cliffside.

“There is another way,” they pleaded, desperation clear in their face as he finally opened his screwed-shut eyes to meet their gaze.

Suddenly, his plan was ruined before it began.

They ran to him, and rested their hand on the stake that still pressed against his chest. A drop of blood ran down his torso with the same heaviness as a tear running down a cheek. It teased him with death; with the power that would now hold, and the power that was now lost.

“You’ve made me soft,” he whispered, eyes watering. How dare they, he thought, less in offense and more in helplessness. He would not go like this. He could not go like this. Not when they would beg him to stay.

They'd saved him once- perhaps, against all odds and demons and gods that were pitted against him, they could save him again. Perhaps they already had; perhaps the victory was already claimed before the fight even began. They had a way of doing that with the ease of a breath- cheating time for those they loved.

They gently took the stake out of his white-knuckled hands. “I know,” they murmured, kissing his cheek.

He folded into them, finally able to relax completely. It was like the two of them fit together perfectly; like every moment they spent apart strained against their very nature. They were meant to be like this- together.

He resolved that, if he was never to be freed from his burden, so be it. At the very least, his taste of wretched freedom had granted him the beauty of the purest love. That could sustain him for eternity, if that were his fate. If the two of them died trying to promise his freedom, at least they tried. Hope had pierced his hardened heart and promised light in a never-ending night. He no longer knew how to do anything but strive for it.

As they held him in silence, he finally confessed his love in words.

[wibble-wobbegong]

honestly i think that people who misunderstand mike the most are those who can’t understand that his emotional intelligence isn’t impacted by his obliviousness. they’re two different things entirely. mike has a pretty deep understanding of himself and what he feels, and we see him do a great job at communicating his anger to el in s1 in a manner that’s very intelligent for a twelve year old. mike understands that he’s angry at el for lying to him and he believes it’s wrong, but that doesn’t get in the way of him knowing el still deserves to have shelter and food. he takes care of her even though he’s angry because he understands that his justified anger doesn’t mean he can hurt her. of course he lashed out initially, but it doesn’t stay that way. he communicates.

mike has a great understanding of his own emotions and his own morality but he often struggles when it comes to others. mike connects with people through relatability and very direct communication; he needs to use his understanding of himself to understand others. when he’s trying to understand why el in S4, he tries to connect their experiences so he can understand why she would want to lie about being bullied to him. on the other end of the spectrum, we see mike connecting with will in the shed scene through his own experiences. it isn’t a memory like joyce or jonathan, not really. what he does is tells will that he’s important because of his impact on himself (mike). that may come off as egocentric, but that’s what mike knows how to do. he’s relying on his own experience to show will how important he is.

that’s also what makes mike and will work so well together. will communicates with mike in a way he understands. what mike needs in order to build a deeper relationship with people is for them to connect with him by telling him their own perspective. the moments that resonate with mike the most are the ones where will is telling mike his own experience. will’s brutal honesty is what mike needs in order to understand that something is wrong and his explanation that it’s scary to tell people how you really feel not only gives mike information to work with, it’s something we see him relate to.

in the same vein, this type of emotional intelligence is exactly what leads mike to repress himself so intensely. mike sees what’s happening clear as day and he doesn’t like it, so he pushes it down and away. he’s aware that he’s fighting something. but, and this is where that misunderstanding comes into play, his awareness that he’s repressing something and trying to fix himself doesn’t mean he’s intentionally hurting other people. he gets easily caught up in his own emotions and falls into habitual isolation to deal with it (we see this almost every season), which denies him that connection and perspective he needs in order to realize that what he’s doing is hurting other people. he gets so focused on fixing himself because his insecurities take over and start blinding him; he hasn’t allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to connect with other people, so he believes he’s alone in his experience and begins to isolate. in doing so, he hurts others, but it isn’t intentional and the second that connection reappears and that direct and brutal honesty is back, he starts to change. S3 is especially hard for him because el doesn’t quite have the ability to communicate what she needs or wants (and she still struggles with this in S4) and will isn’t giving him the full perspective he needs. but it’s enough for him to change.

this belief that mike’s isolation and need to create connections is done out of egocentrism is SO wrong but incredibly common otherwise. even those who understand he isn’t being intentionally harmful and is doing his best are still subject to the double edged sword of falling too heavily into the oblivious factor to the point where his understanding of himself is erased, or by falling into the idea that mike’s emotional intelligence means he must be aware of the harm he’s doing and is therefore doing it out of malice. it can be hard to balance because these features look so different in every relationship he has. mike doesn’t have the ability to communicate with everyone equally because not everyone understands how to communicate with mike, which is why we see him acting so differently in heart to hearts with will than with el. i fully believe that we could have gotten a sweet moment out of the elmike fight had they been able to understand each other, but they couldn’t. mike needs pieces of a puzzle to help him put things together in his head, but el can’t give him the pieces he needs because that isn’t how she communicates. her lack of ability to lay things out flat creates a harsh contrast with mike who needs that.

mike is self aware to a fault, and it’s only heightened by how he understands the world around him. he feels his emotions how he feels them and understands that, but everything else is a puzzle to solve and he only has his own experience to give him the ability to solve it. he gets better at solving puzzles over time, but the puzzles continue to get more advanced as his world becomes more complex, as it the result of growing up.

TLDR; he Autism as hell 👍

[solarmorrigan]

Consider the following:

Steve, after breaking up with driving away from Tommy and Carol, isn't thinking terribly clearly. He has a head injury of some kind, probably, he's had a fight with his (ex?)girlfriend, with Jonathan Byers, and with his (ex) best friends, and his whole view of himself and who he wants to be has been called into question

So, like, he probably shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car

But he is, and he takes a turn too fast, bumps over the curb, and digs a tread mark right into the corner of someone's yard. And even if the mark wasn't obvious (though it is, of course; it's a big, ugly furrow of torn grass and mud), Steve wouldn't be able to pretend it hadn't happened, because the person who presumably owns the house is right there, standing by his mailbox

Enter Bob

Bob, who has just gotten home from work and is getting his mail when someone comes skidding around the corner and digs a track through his yard. And Bob isn't quick to anger, so he's really more surprised than upset, and before he can even make it to being upset, Steve parks and gets out of the car and most thoughts go flying from Bob's head except, "What the heck?"

Because this kid is obviously fresh from some kind of beating, dried blood still clotting on his face, shirt dirty, shoulders hunched, and he sort of looks like he's about to cry. But he apologizes to Bob and says that he's not sure how to fix it but that his dad might be able to pay for it, like some kind of landscaping service, maybe, and-

Bob interrupts. He tells Steve it's fine, the lawn will survive, and asks if he'd like to come in and sit down for a minute. Maybe have a glass of water? (Because the kid is almost shaking, and Bob thinks he should probably sit down before he falls down - or worse, before he gets back behind the wheel)

And Steve is so baffled by the reaction that he isn't sure what else to do but nod. So Bob leads him inside and sits him at the kitchen table and gets them both a drink and sits down with him and then - he asks what's wrong

Steve isn't even sure where to start. He tells Bob that he's been kind of an asshole. Actually, probably a huge asshole. And he doesn't want to be like that, he doesn't think, but he doesn't really know where to start... not being that way

Bob tells Steve that he doesn't seem all that bad to him. After all - he'd made a mistake just earlier and had owned up to it and apologized to Bob. Offered to fix it. Sometimes that's the best thing you can do in the world: apologize for your mistake, and offer to help fix it

And - well, maybe Bob is onto something, actually. Steve doesn't know if an apology will fix what he's said or done today, but it's not like he has any other ideas (it's not like he isn't genuinely sorry)

They sit for a little while longer. Bob chatters at Steve about his job at Radio Shack, just letting him calm down for a bit, giving him a safe and quiet space to regroup, until he seems ready to go

Steve apologizes again about the yard, and Bob tells him that if he really wants to, he can come back this weekend and help fix it. Bob doesn't think he knows much more about landscaping than Steve does, but he's sure that between the two of them, they can figure something out

Steve promises that he'll come back

(And he does. In spite of everything, in spite of monsters being real and little kids being stolen away into fucked up alternate dimensions or whatever the hell had happened, Steve comes back. He and Bob do their best to set the yard to rights, and get into some other yard work, too, and that night is the first night since hitting a flower-faced beast in the head with a baseball bat that Steve actually gets any sleep at all)

-

Part 2 Stop with part 1 if you want this to end in fluff. Part 2 is hurt/no comfort

Tagging @momotonescreaming, @paperbackribs, and @zerokrox-blog because you asked about this one for that wip-ask game and I meant to post this much sooner, sorry!

[jojikawa]

𝘋𝘪𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 — 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸

art credits • dividers • The Bride of Dio

Maron’s Notes: This takes place AFTER The Bride of Dio (even though it is still on-going as of July 2023) I planned on making a post-JoJo Part 3 Series and this is a snippet of the beginning of it. It doesn’t spoil the events of the current story. You just need to have watched JoJo part 3 to kinda understand what’s going on!

This is where we begin to diverge from the ending of Stardust Crusaders and more into the territory of my own original content with my favorite characters. Thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy what I’ve been writing so far.

Started: May 6, 2023 at 3:53 PM

All of his life, Dio Brando, was described to be a demon. His methods, attitude, state-of-mind was reminiscent of the Lucifer himself. In the slums of London, he was once told that “the devil smiles upon him” through the birthmark that could be found upon his ear by a fortune teller. Then again by his associate named Enyaba. His actions for the rest of his life seemed to prove this fortune true. Dio became a menace.

Dio was always self-destructive and acted in self interest. He cared little of who he hurt, as long as he would get what he wanted from whoever he was taking it from. This caused him to ruin every good thing he’s ever earned in his life. The most notable thing being his wife. She was the only person that ever lived with the strength to love a hellspawn like him.

And he knew that.

Dio wanted nothing but to give her the world—in his way. He didn’t want to settle for mundane life with her. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to be a King—A God; her his Goddess. He wanted his beautiful wife to be just like him. He wanted her to be just as ruthless and cold to her subjects and enemies. She would mother his children; any that he gave her. They would all rule the world while his kin were able to take whatever they wanted for themselves.

It didn’t turn out that way…and it was the fault of the Joestars. The JoJo that he failed to kill: Jotaro Kujo, empowered with a stand reminiscent of Jonathan Joestar himself. Dio swore, that in his final moments, he could see Jonathan’s face of disappointment within Jotaro. The only thing he could think was that he should’ve killed Erina too.

But what of you, his wife? Well, Dio didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d ever see you again. You most likely didn’t want to. Now, that he has learned that there is indeed an afterlife, he assumed you’d be in Heaven. Your crimes compared to his were mere child’s play. Any sims you committed could easily be forgiven. The two of you had been separated for some time. He didn’t think the day would come where he would see the end of his suffering…

…but it did.

Dio Brando atoned for all the sins he committed in his lifetime and was now allowed to go to Heaven. The Devil wasn’t as kind to Dio as he had been gaslit to think his whole life, no, he was treated the exact same. (If not, worse.) Perhaps, Heaven prove to be sweeter to him.

From the pits of Hell, Dio was rescued by an Angel that brought him to safety. He wasn’t able to see his Savior until the blood red sky he was so familiar with turned into one of baby blue. The Angel was abnormally big, being of blond hair and olive skin just like him. They were male presenting with enormous wings and a spotless white robe, carrying Dio as if he were a sack of potatoes. The two of them reached Heaven’s entrance where he was then thrown to the ground.

“Stand, worm.” The Angel’s voice was deep as it rumbled the ground. Dio, on his hands and knees, could only take in the scenery around him. It was beautiful. The sky burned his eyes before they were adjusted to the sudden change. Around him were clouds that you could stand on, white marble pillars and structures. This was Heaven?

Suddenly, an anger filled Dio that not even the seven Hells could contain. His ego was too strong to be humbled by Hell itself. His eyes narrowed at the Angel, his nose scrunching up in disgust as he jumped to his feet. He wore clothes that were torn, tattered and he was barefoot as well. Hell sure didn’t care about your quality of life.

“Worm!?” Dio repeated. He approached the Angel before him, not at all caring about how less intimidating he looked compared to this supreme being before him. “How dare you!?” He grabbed a fist of the Angel’s garbs. He pulled him closer as he screamed in his face. “Do you know who I am!? I am—“

Dio was struck across the face, once again being leveled with the ground. The man had only been hit a few times within his life but this was like no other.

“You are a worm. You are a sinner. The only reason why I have brought you here is through the request of another.” The Angel spoke through his clenched jaw, voice laced with venom and hatred for the mortal before him.

‘…request of another…?’

“Now, go before I change my mind and drop you back down there.” The Angel shoo’d Dio away, gesturing towards Heaven’s gates in front of him. They were marvelous and just the way they had been imagined in various medias in the world of the living.

With much uncertainty, Dio climbed to his feet and made his way through the gates. He suddenly felt more at ease, the same way one would after putting on nice clean clothes after a shower. Looking down at himself, he saw that his clothes were no longer shredded rags. They were now reminiscent of the things he wore as a young man. A white dress shirt and beige colored bottoms. It was definitely his style as he was unable to let go of the Victorian style fashion that he grew up in.

There was no one else around him and no directions. He would only put together that he needed to keep walking forward; and he did. Dio didn’t cover a lot of distance before he heard faint voices talking. He wasn’t able to tell what any of them were saying until he got closer.

“Calm down, child. You mustn’t worry yourself with such trivial things. I’ve already sent Azriel.” A feminine voice, one that sounded of a mother; a tone that anyone could recognize. “But you told me that he would arrive today!” The second voice was also feminine extremely familiar. Dio could recognize that whining anywhere!

Then he heard a male sigh. “Angela’s right, (y/n). You don’t need to be upsetting yourself. We don’t know when—“ the man then gasped. “There he is! Dio!”

It was you and…Jonathan.

“Dio!?” You perked up, looking to your far left to see it was none other than your husband. A well of emotions bubbled inside of you once you saw him. You gasped as well, running over to him for a sweet embrace. Dio looked extremely confused, hesitant to wrap his arms around you.

“This isn’t an illusion…?” Dio rested his chin upon your head, feeling your warmth once again. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course not, Dio!” You pulled away, holding his hands and intertwining your fingers. “I missed you so much.”

Dio’s eyes widened. You missed him?

Hi, again! This is just a tidbit for now. I kinda work ahead whenever I get stuck. I wish we got more Dio content in JJBA so I had more events to insert the reader into. Coming up with original content and scenarios is hard 🗿

[bylertruther]

a collection of my thoughts + notes as i read lucas on the line —

first of all, i am, of course, feeling yet another wave of anger at all the "hot takes" that floated around cheapening lucas's season four journey or vilifying him for wanting to try new things, make a better life for himself, and be in the company of other black people that weren't related to him for once. as if his experience as a black boy doesn't make his life all that much harder, so much more complicated and isolating, even as he tries to better it. just... sigh. the more i read the more upset i felt about how fandom, no matter which one it is, treats black characters, especially ones with darker skin.

max breaks my fucking heart into a million pieces in this, over and over again.

i already know that people mischaracterize mike to a horrendous degree, but it is just... funny, for lack of a better word and in a terribly unfunny way, just how egregious it is. mike's written as such a stern stubborn hardass. he's a good older brother, and even uses that Older Brother Voice on others when necessary. he thinks motorcycles are cool, as well as the people that ride them. he's mopey and broody and irritable. he wants to fight to defend the ones he loves, but he won't do it if the offenders are bigger than him, which they often are. he fidgets with an old dnd die. he likes board and card games. he's honestly kind of a Cool^tm nerd guy—just has that standoffish vibe to him. he's the most difficult person to convince, apparently. he's also incredibly cut-to-the-chase, no-bullshit, mega blunt. of course we know that mike can be kind and sweet beyond his years, too, but i feel like that outer, more prominent layer of his—which, honestly, has persisted since the very beginning—is often cast aside by people for something more palatable. sad.

mike is the heart, i know this, everyone knows this, but... it is kind of funny that dustin and mike gave up on calling themselves a party, and what remained of them in hawkins wasn't much, didn't support lucas at all (which did hurt him a lot, because he couldn't give up hope that they eventually would), and that they only came together again like old times when will and el came down, but that togetherness went away once they left again. "look how the party fell apart just by will and el moving away." mike is the heart of the party, yes, but he relies on will, whether it be the support he offers or the inspiration he serves him, in order to be that heart. just interesting to see that repeated here, too.

the party doesn't understand or even see the racism lucas faces, which is to be expected, but still sad.

lucas is prone to nervousness and anxiety, and he clenches his hands into fists to keep them from visibly shaking. he also doesn't like the aggression that's prevalent in hyper-masculine spaces and takes note of it.

lucas's father was adopted by a white family, but they're not allowed to talk about them—ever. he's a vietnam veteran and doesn't talk about his time there either. he prefers keeping a low profile, because he feels that keeps his family, and people like them, safer. he also used to be a barber and he's the one that gives lucas his hi-top fade.

will didn't only wear jonathan's clothes. he also wore joyce's.

so many beautiful and heart-wrenching passages about the monsters of hawkins, which is a repeating motif in these tie-in books. it's classism, racism, homophobia, ableism, and so much more, and it's always there, lying in wait. those vulnerable are expected to remain small and hidden to survive, lest they become targets.

lucas has a dnd character that sounds a lot like robin hood. hashtag commie king 🤝

robin was the wise-beyond-her-years, nonjudgmental mediator between lucas, dustin, and mike. it took them hours to reconcile and she would interfere when it got too heated. lucas also felt that she would've fit right into the party were she their age.

nancy was their official chauffeur. hehe.

max flinches whenever anyone mentions neil or calls her maxine like he does. she also tried to run away on halloween, but talked herself out of it.

mike wasn't interested in dressing up for halloween because will and el were gone. max wanted to go as green lantern and lucas wanted to go as mad max, thinking he could borrow the costume from her.

eddie is apparently a freak, jackass, always high, and looks like he hasn't showered in a week. nice.

lucas knows the "i contain multitudes" walt whitman quote and it was a black boy that shared it with him. that boy, jay, also showed him james baldwin. the sinclairs are also fans of prince. 🌈 :)

i already knew this before reading, but it was nice to have even more proof that lucas is indeed the bestest boy in all of existence. this is #real and true.

[greenlikethesea]

friendsgiving excerpt, fair ithilien verse

i realized that i completely misadvertised this one -- it is not a fun fic, very very angsty, and is the catalyst for eddie leaving indiana and going to live with jonathan and argyle in LA for a few months before heading to san fran. here's a piece of writing i did that i'm quite proud of:

“There are only two doors on this fucking house,” Eddie starts.

Confusion flashes across Steve’s face, alarm, but he masks it quickly. He’s mean first, and fucking good at it when he feels indignant. Eddie wishes he didn’t know Steve so well. “I think I know the layout of my own house, Eddie.” 

“If you know the layout of your own house, Steve, riddle me this,” Eddie spits. “Say I’m in the backyard, smoking a cigarette, because no one gets to decide I quit except for me – am I going to go all the way to the front door to get back inside? A door that might be locked for all I know?”

Eddie can see Steve softening a little, the steel in his glare subsiding just a bit. “I suppose not.”

“So it makes the most sense for me to go in the back door, which is already open, because you opened it, I watched you do it,” Eddie continues. “But you and your wife seem to be having a tense conversation. And I don’t want to interrupt, or make noise, or disturb it. So that’s why I stayed put until the coast was clear. No offense, Steve, but I have more pressing matters on my mind than whatever you and your wife talk about when you’re alone.”

“Eddie,” Steve breathes. It’s so kind, and Eddie hates it. “Please, Eddie, I –”

Eddie laughs bitterly. “I don’t blame you for locking your front door, of course. Nice neighborhood like this, wouldn’t want anyone unsavory coming in. Take the trash out the back, you know how it goes.”

It’s fucking mean, a snarl from a wounded animal. He feels a pang of regret as Steve’s face falls, that beautiful face twisting in regret, any anger there now fled. But Eddie’s eyes hurt from keeping them anywhere but those two fucking moles on Steve’s neck, tantalizing and inviting above his crew neck collar. The skin there is probably soft from whatever expensive body wash he uses, a gift from Megan, maybe. Steve doesn’t drown himself in cologne anymore, but there’s something lingering – new clothes smell, or the air freshener that’s plugged into the kitchen outlet by the toaster oven. He wants to fist his hands in that crimson cashmere, wreck the collar from how hard he tugs it down, just to get his mouth on those two moles. Maul him, make a mess of that expanse of skin, so no one knows there are moles there by the time he’s done.

“How are you, Eddie?” Steve says. It’s impossibly quiet.

“I’m fine, Steve,” Eddie says, automatic. “I told you that before.”

“No, Eddie,” Steve says. He steps into Eddie’s space. “How are you, really?”

Unlike a lot of people, Eddie actually knows what it feels like to be eaten alive. He knows what it feels like to have some malevolent force not even wait until your heart stops beating to tear into your flesh. But this glass barrier between himself and everyone else, the long, endless days he spends at the trailer, or on the road, or dodging people’s phone calls – this barrier that he himself created? He’ll take the demobats over this any day. At least with those things, he could immediately identify what was causing him harm. Razor sharp fangs, tail like a whip designed to strangle prey, rough scales where skin is supposed to be – no wonder I feel like I’m going to die! But the vice grip of loneliness is harder to qualify, a pain so big that to speak it into existence would make it real. Inescapable. 

What does Eddie say to Steve? He doesn’t know how to talk about this emptiness that permeates every part of his existence. It would be so easy to rebuff him, to head back into the dining room with everyone else, where they’ve all no doubt dismantled the dessert table. But Steve’s looking at him like it’ll kill him if Eddie doesn’t tell him what’s wrong. And Eddie wants to believe it’s a lie. He wants so badly to convince himself that Steve doesn’t care about him, that now that he has a wife, he doesn’t need anyone else. Doesn’t need Eddie. But Eddie can see that this isn’t true. That Steve’s just the same as he’s always been, caring to a fault, big enough to see when he’s miscalculated, and that just makes the pain worse. 

“I’m…” he starts, but the words get caught in his throat. For the first time this entire conversation, he looks away from Steve. It’s too hard, too close –

[stranger-rants]

(3) I'm not saying that fans have to like Nancy, if she's someone they don't relate to its fine. I even agree that she is now the epitome of young white feminism, entitlement, her family republican support roots and middle class privilege. I do agree it was assholeish of her on how she treated Jonathan (while i still understand her anger towards Tom Holloway and the sexist, hostile and creepy old coworkers) she should have said sorry to him just like he apologized to her, the fact that she can't make girl friends her age besides Barb, how she treated Robin in S4 that was harsh at moments and unconsiderate i could go on..

(4) She can definitely be still up to be questioned and the talks on why the whole girlboss rep that the Duffers swear they bring but fails miserably every time. I need to add that Steve himself should also get the same exact treatment in this case. But none of his fan favorite cult sees that because he said sorry, changed for better and they all bought into his so called "character arc" which is not even a good one or not even there, they even bought the whole mediocrity of him being a "gay ally" (this even comes from me as a fanom bisexual Steve truther). It's so weird to me how he's always treated as such a catch with all this people being like "Nancy doesn't deserve Steve this and that" but maybe that there is also just me as well...

5, Last one i promise) but this whole anti and villain narrative treatment she gets from the fandom in which she does not deserve any single chance of nuances, a proper arc, her being seen or listened, chances to redeem herself and make up for her wrongdoings. The fact that they go far to literally laugh at her privacy and autonomy being technically ripped, exposed and violated, so far to the point she should be punished for her friend's death just because she had sex well, this people so give the vibe of the individuals you would never trust to openly talk about your SA/harassment/abuse situations to. Says a lot of little concerning vibes, that are just as low and bad as the anti Billy behaviour we've got to see from time to time. I do comprehend none of these characters are real but there's that; makes me cringe how this has just increased in Womens rights month and the fact these things are coming from mostly women, which is kinda sad.

I'll end my point saying that yeah, it speaks volumes.

I will say this about what female characters are owed in fandom and that’s the same level of complexity we grant to male characters. That’s what I think any character who represents a marginalized group is owed, and yes it can be frustrating when you’re not given that. It is concerning to see people buy into the Nice Guy trope and the rape culture surrounding young people, especially women and girls. It’s okay to be upset by that, even if the characters aren’t real, and to call it out as such. I personally think that Steve and Nancy are bad for each other because neither of their goals and ideals line up. That doesn’t mean Nancy is The Problem, of course. In fact, I’m tired of talking about her in relation to Steve and vice versa.

I do think this fandom’s treatment of female characters like Nancy can be hypocritical compared to their uncritical adoration of Steve who is really just some guy with a lot of money, but at the same time the way she is positioned as a gun toting “badass” young woman who gets empowering speeches from her Thatcher-loving predator of a mother is what makes her character off-putting to queer fans, many who are gay and/or trans and who’ve spoken up about how aggravating that is. It’s not just women who are critical of her character, and while you’ve already acknowledged these issues I do want to make a distinction between hate posts made by misogynists and criticisms given by people hurt by the glorified politics surrounding the Wheeler family. I know people argue that their children aren’t conservatives by association, and I get that but The Duffers don’t say or do anything meaningful to subvert or deny that.

As a character, the best thing for her would be to branch out and experience new things but she stagnates like Steve because The Duffers don’t let them grow beyond The Girlboss and The Babysitter roles they’ve designated them with. That can also lead to some of the hate she receives, but that’s a writing problem and not something that is inherently wrong with a teenage girl not having all the tools and the knowledge to make the right decisions 100% of the time… which… why should we be expecting that out of anyone anyway.

[serendipitouswasteland]

March 22, 1986

Note: This was transcribed from my AO3

ship: byler pov: third person written: September 21, 2022 first published: September 22, 2022 word count: 10,621 warnings: death, violence, & graphic depictions of those - summary: Will has simply had enough. The words Mike has been yelling at him for nearly an hour now have began to give Will a headache, and he's had enough. After a forgotten birthday and near-forgotten friendship, Will is done with Mike's bullshit.

But perhaps there's more to the story.

Something about the way Mike said the words itches Will. It made him feel like, slowly, every bit of him that he'd worked to keep together and keep in place over the years is starting to fall apart and unravel– but no. He won't let that happen. Not when Mike is standing across from him looking at him with the look that he is. Not when they're fighting and Will refuses to start crying. But those words? Hell, Mike deserves everything that's coming to him. Or, that's what Will is thinking at the moment.

'You're a fucking liar.'

Does Mike regret it? Does he not? Will doesn't know. The only thing he can read from Mike is anger. Not regret, not satisfaction, just anger. Pure and true anger, more than Will thinks he's ever seen. And for what? Because of a painting that he wasn't entirely truthful about? Because he lied to Mike for the first time in his life? Is that really the only reason right now for Mike's anger? Or was there something else? Perhaps it was something that Mike was lying about, something that Will doesn't know. And yet Mike wants to get mad at Will for lying. Sure .

"Well?" Mike asks, waving his arms out before crossing them again. He's waiting for Will to answer. But what does Will say?

"I didn't lie ," except, he did. He did lie. But to admit that? And to Mike, of all people?

"Bullshit! I talked to El, I talked to Jonathan– hell, even Argyle was on the same page as them. El told me she didn't ask you to make the painting for her, Jonathan told me that too, and so did Argyle. So I went to your mom."

Shit .

"And you know what I found out? That it was you who made it for me. That it was you who wanted to make me this grand painting that symbolizes our friendship. And you did . But you lied about it. You made me think that it was some romantic gesture from El and not from you. How could you do that to me? How could you lie to me, Will? What happened to us being best friends? Or did you once again not care to be that anymore and decided not to tell me?"

"You needed something to help you! That's all I wanted to do– help. And you want to talk to me about not wanting to be friends anymore? The day you first came to Lenora was awful for me, Mike. It sucked ."

"That's not my fault!"

"Except it was! It was your fault, just as much as it was everyone else's. You know it was my birthday? The day at Rink-O-Mania? It was my fucking birthday , Mike."

"What?"

"My birthday, Mike. It was my birthday. And you– you forgot about it. You're supposed to be my best friend and you forgot my birthday."

"I didn't forget your birthday!" Mike yells, bewildered at the accusation.

"But you did! You didn't hug me at the airport, you didn't get me a gift, and you didn't say happy birthday to me at all."

"I did get you a gift."

"Well then where is it?"

Will is crossing his arms now, Mike standing with his at his eyes, a defeated and dumbstruck look on his face. If Will had any guilt over the matter, he didn't show it. Despite how hurt Mike looks, Will can't bring himself to show that he cares. Not in this moment when he feels like his friendship that both he and Mike have worked so hard to repair is falling apart once again. And while that should be the reason he does show that he cares, it's not. It's the complete opposite.

Mike sniffles just a litte, reaching into the pocket of his blue long-sleeved shirt, pulling out a slightly crumpled yet neatly folded piece of paper. Mike looks at the item for a moment before looking away, blinking his eyes a few times. With one last huff of anger, Mike shoves it into Will's hands, forcing him to catch it against his chest.

"Happy fucking birthday."

Mike takes a few steps back, his back hitting the wall. Will stares at him for a moment before gulping and looking down at the paper he's holding against his chest. Will fumbles with it for a moment, unfolding it. Each fold was done with precision and care, like Mike had tried to make it look as perfect as could be. Once unfolded, Will's eyes have to adjust to a long letter written with precision and perfect handwriting. Will doesn't even have to read it to know that it's beautiful.

'Dear Will,

Hawkins hasn't been the same since you left. I don't remember it without you. Not much, anyways. Meeting you on the swings and becoming friends is one of my earliest memories. There's not many I can think of from before that. And to know that I remember the day so vividly makes me question a lot. I don't remember too much else from around that time, so I often ponder who I could remember that so much and not anything else. But I think I know.

Most of my memories from throughout my childhood have you in it. From elementary school breakfasts to playground games to classroom instruction, somehow we've always been together. Even after school you'd come over a lot and we'd have tons of fun. Most nights we even had sleepovers. And all of those memories? They're all my favorites.

And, of course, Lucas and Dustin were there, too. I can't leave out my other two best friends.

But regardless of who else has been in a memory or simply in my life, you have always been this shining star. Bright and bold and sunshine-y, you've always been like my own personal North Star. You lead me to where I have to go– where I'm meant to go.

I know that I've always sort of been the one to "lead" you, but really, Will, you lead me. And sure, I care for you a lot and look out for and worry over you considerably more than you do for me and more than I do for Lucas and Dustin and Max and, hell, sometimes even El (Although, I'll be honest, it's very close. You're both endlessly important to me), but something about the way you treat me is somehow how I've always wanted to treat you.

You're kind and caring and you know me better than anyone else. You're not afraid to call me out on my bullshit and you encourage me to be me. That's what you've always done. And you're honest with me. I won't lie, Will, I've lied to you before. Maybe not directly, but it's happened, and I'm sorry for that. But you being honest with me and trusting me has got to be the reason why I love you so much.

And then there's that.

I wasn't going to say it. I was going to just write you a happy birthday letter telling you all the things I love about you without actually saying that's what it was, but my hand works faster than my mind sometimes and I just can't stop it from all flowing out.

So there it is. I love you. But it's more than that.

It's not just love. Love itself is so unimportant. At least the romantic kind. Every person needs love in their life, yes, and we're made to believe that love we need is romantic, but it's not. A person can survive on just platonic and familial love alone. But you? God, you make me want that romantic love. You make me feel like without it I'm going to simply die. Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Both times. And sure, I didn't actually lose you either time, but it felt like I did, and neither time have I known what to do with myself. You complete me, Will.

And it is that completion that causes me to be in love with you without me even trying and without me even knowing how or why. But I love you. I do. I am in love with you.

And happy birthday.

Love,

Mike.'

Will's eyes linger on the signage of the letter, a finger trailing over it before his eyes flutter to Mike quickly before looking back at the paper. Will folds it back the way it was before, walking over to Mike who has his hand out waiting for Will to hand it back, and he does. Slowly and gently, Will places the piece of paper into Mike's hand, his fingers going from brushing against Mike's wrist to fingertips as he does so. They make eye contact once again, and Will returns Mike's tears. And, just as he begins to speak, a door is opened, interrupting the pair's solemn moment.

"Guys," Jonathan says, nodding his head down the hall. "We gotta go."

Will pulls away from Mike, brushing past his brother as he begins to make his way down the hall. As he goes, he can hear Jonathan and Mike share a few words. It's distant and muffled, so he can't make it out, but he can tell it's not entirely happy from either side. Will huffs and rolls his eyes, going down the stairs in Mike's house and out the door to the garage, climbing into the back of Karen's car as he pulls his bandana over his face so it's covering his nose and mouth.

Not a moment later, Mike joins him, his eyes stern and coded in anger. He's upset about something, and it's not the same upset he was before. This is something different. Will looks to Jonathan who's eyeing Mike in the mirror, looking away when he finds Will looking at him. Will looks away too, opting to look out the long back window instead.

He rests his chin on his knuckles, looking at the apocalyptic world around him. Every day he fears something will happen to his friends and family. The thought of it happening to him, however, doesn't scare him as much. He'd rather it be himself than anyone else. And right now, Will is sure that split second decision might be one he has to make. After all, they're on their way to killing Vecna.

Nancy had worked out the plan for months. She'd given everyone a role and a person to stick with and told everyone exactly what they would need to do. Each person played a vital role in her plan, and not one person could deviate from it or they might mess it up.

Might.

That was the one thing Will couldn't stop thinking about. Someone deviating only might mess things up. That's how solid of a plan that Nancy thinks she has. But Will knows better. Will knows that, when it comes to the Mind Flayer, there is no plan. If you think you have one, you're as good as dead. Will knows that. But he won't tell anyone else. No one except Mike. But he wasn't going to say anything quite yet. He was going to wait until they were split off in their pairings and it was him and Mike alone. Then he would tell him. He would tell Mike all of the things that he should have told him years ago.

There was, however, one slight problem. He and Mike had just got done fighting. Will can't ponder that right now, though, because Nancy has just pulled up to their first stop. The gate on the highway. Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin all get out of the car, each of them saying goodbye to everyone as they're wished luck before going through.

Once out on the other side, the four boys set up a communication plan for while they're down there. After all, they'd be splitting up– Mike with Will and Lucas with Dustin, just like how it's always been. While Mike and Dustin discuss a few things, Will pulls Lucas over to the side and speaks to him in a hushed voice.

"You can't let yours and Dustin's trauma get to you."

"I know. You can't either."

"What do you think I've been doing this whole time?"

"You still feel him?"

"Too much. It's like he's everywhere and nowhere all at once."

"Have you told Mike?"

"No. You know how he would react. Any time I bring it up he goes absolutely haywire."

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that I was sort of the same way about Max."

"Lucas—"

"I'm not saying he likes you back, Will. But I'm also not saying that he doesn't. I'm just saying that he wants to be able to protect you, no matter what that takes. You have to look out for him just as much if not more than he looks out for you. And that's going to be hard with just how protective he is, but—"

"I sacrificed myself for him before. I'd do it again."

"Promise that you'll both come back?"

"You know we can't promise anything."

"Will. Promise me."

"I promise."

"Promise what?" Mike asks as he and Dustin come to Will and Lucas's sides.

"That we'll all come back," Lucas says, looking at Dustin with a determined look, the both of them nodding firmly at each other before Lucas pulls Will into a tight hug.

"Take care of yourselves, okay?" Mike asks, pulling Lucas and Dustin both into a hug after Lucas and Will finish.

"You guys too," Lucas says as Will and Dustin hug now.

Lucas and Dustin turn and walk the opposite direction, Will and Mike doing the same. Will sniffles just a bit, wiping at his eyes and picking up his pace. He doesn't want to be feeling like this right now.

"You okay?" Mike asks.

"I don't want anything bad to happen to either of them because of me."

"Because of you? What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, Mike. This? All of this? It's my fault. If I had just let the Vecna and the Mind Flayer take over Hawkins the first time, or if I had died in the Upside Down then– then none of this would even be happening."

"Don't talk like that. We stopped it before. We can stop it again."

"But that doesn't mean they won't get hurt."

"Will, stop. Listen to me," Mike says, stopping in his tracks which causes Will to do the same. "If anyone gets hurt that is not your fault. That is One's. That is his fault, not yours. You were a kid. That is on him."

The two stand there in silence for a moment before they continue walking. Neither one says much. Not that they should, anyways. Who knows what the extent of Vecna's powers are. He has a lot. Many of them are like El's, but some are different. Some are stronger.

After a while of walking, Mike and Will arrive at their destination. Mike's house. Will remembers when Nancy had been telling everyone what she'd seen in her room and in her journal. There wasn't anything new since Will had disappeared. It was as if, in the Upside Down, time had stopped. It made Will curious, wanting to know more. How was the day he went missing tied into all of this? That wasn't when the Upside Down was created. In fact, it had existed long before that. Long before Vecna had been sent there, too. So why did Will affect it so much?

Walking inside of Mike's house is like stepping through a time machine. He's in a different world. He remembers what it looked like from the height he was then, barely seeing above the counter from how short he was. A few years ago it would have fallen near his waist. Now his hip-bones are right at the counter.

As they continue through, Will notices a lot of things that are different from how they are now. Some photos on the wall, the living room, Mike's room. And while Mike continues his way to Nancy's room, Will pops into Mike's. There's bunk beds instead of a full size, his closet door is closed and his room is picked up and clean. There's knicknacks on his dresser and nightstand. None if it is Mike at all. At least not the Mike now.

Looking around, a photo on top of Mike's dresser catches Will's eye. It's of him, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin with a trophy after the science fair. All of them are smiling brightly. Even Mike. Will traces his thumb over his own face, thinking back over the last few years. He hasn't smiled like that in a while. Not since he moved to Lenora, and definitely not since he'd been possessed by the Mind Flayer. Had it really been that long?

Will sets the photo down, going around the rest of Mike's room. There's a dinosaur– Mike's favorite– but it doesn't roar. It's broken. Then, there's something else that grabs Will's attention. Mike's walkie talkie. Will hasn't used one in a while. There was so much about Mike's room that Will had missed, and he hadn't even realized it until now. So many little things that slowly disappeared, and once he got back from Lenora? He hardly recognized the space at all.

There was one thing, though, that gave it all away. And only now had Will noticed it. On all of Mike's walls, there's Will's art. Drawings and paintings alike, they're plastered on each wall of Mike's room. Picturing Mike's current room in his mind, Will remembers the corkboard on Mike's wall above his bed, that now being what contains all of Will's art from his walls. It's the one constant from throughout the years. Clearly it was important to him.

"Wow, this is so not me at all," Mike says as he comes into the room.

"I think it is. There's still something that stayed the same."

"Well, yeah. I mean, the walls and floor haven't changed, and neither has my closet or my window, but everything else is different."

"You kept up my art, too."

Will watches as Mike looks around at the walls, and then to the spot where his cork board would be hanging up now. He smiles, sitting down on the bed, Will doing the same. Mike pats his knees a few times, looking at a few of the drawings a bit me before letting out a small chuckle, Will smiling at the action.

"Yeah. I kept up some of your art."

"Why? It's not like it's any good."

"It's still your art, Will. It's part of who you are. It's how you've grown up."

"Too bad my best piece wasn't made yet."

"No, but I remember exactly where it is," Mike says, standing up and hopping into his rolling desk chair.

He grabs a pencil out of a container and goes to the wall between his closet and his bedroom door. Then, he begins to sketch. Will tries to peer over his shoulder and watch, but he can't quite see. He stands up, going over to Mike and leaning over his shoulder, watching as he works. It takes him a while, but eventually Mike has the entirety of Will's painting outlined on his wall. Even with it being covered in grime, he recreated it perfectly. And he was right. He does remember exactly where it is.

"Clearly you've looked at it a lot."

"It's my favorite. Well, one of my favorites. I also really like the one you did of the dragging biting the guy's head off. Do you remember that one?"

"I've made a lot of art, Mike. And it's been years since I've done any actual drawing. I normally just paint now."

"Here. I have it in a binder," Mike says, rolling over to his closet and standing up, throwing open the door.

He reaches up onto his tip toes and grabs a black binder with a few stickers on it off of the top shelf, walking over to his desk and kicking his chair along with him. He sets the binder down, sitting down in his chair as he opens it up and begins to flip through.

The pages are filled with all of Will's drawings that he's made throughout the years that he's given to Mike or hasn't wanted to keep. Every single one, and each one in perfect condition. There's not a single tear or wrinkle in a single one of the papers. And there's a lot of papers. Mike stops flipping through the binder, firmly putting his finger down on one of the pages. Sure enough, there's a dragon biting some "guy's head off". Will chuckles and smiles a little, admiring Mike's good memory.

"I've kept up with it throughout the years," Mike says, talking about the binder. "I look through it from time to time just because, usually when I miss you."

"You missed me?"

"Yeah. I mean, Hawkins wasn't the same without you, right?"

"Yeah, but feeling like you've lost someone and missing someone are two different things."

"But they go hand in hand," Mike says, sighing and pulling out a notebook from the pocket of his leather jacket. "I found Nancy's journal. The last date is November 6, 1983, just like she said."

"Dammit. I just don't get it. What does me disappearing have to do with any of this?"

"That's always had to do with it. Nothing started happening until you went missing."

"No, nothing started happening until El escaped the lab. Those are two different things."

"Happened on the same day."

"But she escaped before I disappeared. It started with her."

"But she's not who the Mind Flayer flayed. If he wanted her, he would have chosen her, right? One and Billy both said they were doing it all for her, but then why you? Why would he choose you? It just doesn't make sense unless you're also what he wanted. You're a part of his grand master plan."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true! And it's scary as Hell, but you know I won't let anything happen to you. I promised you we were going to kill him, and we will. We will."

"You don't know that. None of us do."

"But you do. You practically share a mind with him. You know how he works. You better than anyone should know how to stop him."

"So that's why you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed."

"You're acting like it."

"I'm just upset that they don't trust you enough to be with them even though you know him better than anyone else. If anyone can help them with that final blow, it's you."

"He also knows me inside and out, Mike. He knows me as much as I know him, maybe even more. He knows every single one of my strengths and every single one of my weaknesses. He knows about all of my trauma and all I know is how he works and how he thinks. He even knows my birthday , Mike. He knows my relationships with you and with my mom and with Jonathan. He knows everything about me. In comparison to him, I know nothing. I'm safer and more helpful away from Creel House than anywhere near it."

"But you're stronger than him."

"No I'm not."

"You are. Even while flayed, you were smart enough to speak to us through morse code. You were strong enough to fight against him to tell me what he made you do. You fought back and you won."

"Well I can't do that again, and I don't want to do that again. If I fight him again, Mike, I'm not coming out of it alive."

"Don't say that."

"It's true! I'm not going to sit here and lie to you just because you love me!"

Will's hands fly to cover his mouth at his words. Mike just stares blankly. This was definitely not expected. Especially for Will, since he knows how he feels about Mike. Would he ever tell him? Or would it be better for him not to know? That's not something Will is sure he's ready for. After all, Mike only told him out of necessity, and he didn't even say it out loud. It was just words written on a paper.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mike asks, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"No."

"Can I talk about it?"

"Sure."

"Will, I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of my feelings for you. I mean, that's literally why I didn't want to tell you. So you wouldn't be uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable."

"Then what is it?"

"Do you know why I don't lie to you?"

"I'd hope it's because we're friends and friends don't lie."

"Well, yeah, but that's not the only reason. And I really don't want to have to say it."

"I think I might already know," Mike says, rolling his chair over to where Will is standing with his back to the wall. 

"Mike, stop."

"What?"

"I can't."

"Can't what, Will? All I did was come closer to you."

"But I know what you're wanting."

"And what is it that I want? Since you're so sure."

"Mike..."

"What?"

"You're teasing me."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're being mean."

"I'm not trying to. I just want you to talk to me."

"I don't want to talk. I don't want this . I don't want you ," Will says, trying to convince himself more than anything, trying to push Mike away one last time so that neither one of them can get hurt in the end.

"Okay," Mike says, pushing away from Will and grabbing Nancy's notebook off of his desk. "We should get going if we want to get this done in time."

Will lets out a deep breath, following Mike out of his room, down the stairs, and out of his house. Their walk is once again silent, and Will's not sure if it's because they got into an argument again or if it's because Mike is trying not to attract any creatures, but either way, Will doesn't like how it feels. He feels like he constantly has to look over his shoulder.

Out of the blue, Mike stops Will by putting his arm out in front of him, causing him to come to a halt. Mike puts a finger to his lips, mimicking a shushing noise as he takes a few steps forward, taking the shotgun he's been carrying and taking it off from around his neck, getting ready to aim it. Will puts his back to Mike's, moving one arm back to pull the pistol out of its place in Mike's belt.

"You know how to use that?" Mike asks, his voice barely audible.

"Yeah, and I can probably use the shotgun better than you, too."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"Well, if you give it to me then maybe you'll find out—"

Will is cut off by a gunshot and Mike's body movements against him as he fires the shotgun. Demodogs. Will looks from his left to his right, scanning. He's not seeing anything yet. Slowly, he and Mike begin to turn in a circle, covering all of their bases. Then, Will sees one on his left and fires his gun, followed by Mike shooting in the opposite direction, but he misses, the demodog beginning to run at them.

"Shit, give me the shotgun, Mike," Will says as he and Mike back away quickly.

"What? No! Nancy gave me the gun, I'm gonna use it."

"Well you clearly don't know what you're doing, so—"

"No. I'm not giving you the gun."

"Mike, I'm not asking. Give it to me," Will says, taking the shotgun from Mike and shoving the pistol into his hands instead.

Will quickly aims and fires a shot at the demodog, hitting him dead on. He then hears a growling noise behind him.

"Six o'clock," Will says, and Mike immediately turns and fires the pistol, resulting in a not-so-happy noise from the demodog.

"This is so much easier to use than that thing."

"Tell me about it. Where are all of these dogs coming from? We're getting swarmed."

"Do you think One knows?"

"If that were the case then he'd know we're not his biggest problem right now."

"Maybe he can sense you the same way you can sense him. Maybe that's how he found us and sent the demodogs after us."

"You mean he sent them after me."

"Yeah, whatever, just—" another shot, "—we need to go."

Mike drags Will along as demodogs continue chasing after them, each of them taking turns to turn around and shoot before looking ahead to make sure they don't trip and fall or step on the hivemind as they run toward the library. Once they get there, Will fires shot after shot as he slowly backs inside, Mike shutting the large doors as quickly as he can. Will slowly lets the gun down, setting it against the wall of the library, Mike putting the pistol back in his gun holder on his belt.

"I haven't been here in forever," Will says, Mike smiling a bit at his comment.

"No better time than in an alternate dimension during the apocalypse, right?"

"You're such a dork."

"Yeah. Hey, where did you learn to use a gun like that?"

"My dad. I don't really want to talk about it."

"You don't want to talk much about anything today."

"That's because there's more important things at hand."

"Just because there's something more important doesn't mean whatever's going on with you isn't important at all."

"Trust me, Mike. It's not important."

"If you say so."

Mike taps along the main counter of the library as he makes his way to the section of the library where the shelves are labeled 'non-fiction'. Will groans, setting his backpack on a table and slouching down into a chair.

"Why couldn't we do this above ground?" Will groans in complaint, laying his head down in his arms.

"Well we're not underground, and we had to get Nancy's notebook."

"It's stupid."

"It's necessary."

"How do you even find anything in here?"

"Dewey Decimal System."

"Huh?"

"It's how you find books. At the bottom of every book is a number. Science is 500-599. The numbers tell you what part of what genre of nonfiction each book is."

"God, you're such a nerd."

"Takes one to know one."

Mike scans through the bookshelves quickly, easily finding the science section and within that where the books they would be needing are. Will looks at the spine of a few of the books, looking at the numbers at the bottom. Sure enough, they're all the same.

"Huh."

Will shrugs and opens up a random one of the many books that Mike has brought over, and he's still getting more. On his final trip, Mike brings over a stack that covers his face, his arm barely reaching the top of the stack to keep all of the books from falling over. Will smiles and laughs at Mike as he helps him set the stack down, handing him a highlighter and book when he sits down.

"Are you ready to get to work?"

"I'm kind of excited, actually. I haven't really read in a while."

"I thought you loved reading?"

"I do, it's just that with everything going on I haven't really had the chance."

"But you had the chance to pick a fight with me?"

"Will—"

"Sorry. I meant that as a joke."

"Oh. Right. Of course you wouldn't...nevermind."

Mike buries his face in the book, Will unable to see him. Will frowns, looking down at his book and uncapping the highlighter. He hated reading. The only reasons he agreed to him and Mike going this route was because the way Lucas and Dustin went put them– especially Will– more at risk, and because he knew Mike would enjoy their reading assignment.

Will pondered it for a while. He saw how Mike's face lit up when Nancy had mentioned the library and how they'd have to be reading some books. He looked ecstatic. Like a kid on Christmas morning. And Will knows that shouldn't have been a deciding factor. This isn't about Mike. It's about Will and El and Vecna and the Upside Down, but it is not about Mike.

"Hey, I think I found something," Mike says, perking up and sliding the book across the table and turning it so it's right side up for Will.

"What am I looking at?"

"It's a timeline. Well, a best guess at what one would look like. There was this guy, and I can't think of his name but he had the idea of a timeline within time travel, and then even further than that he had the idea of a black hole. Basically, there's only one timeline in life throughout every dimension and every universe."

"Time travel?" Will asks, confused on Mike's explanation.

"Yeah. Dustin probably knows more about it than me– he's basically a genius– but what else could it be? A time freeze?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"But Vecna doesn't have any time powers."

"That we know of."

"Okay, well, what if it's not him that did this? What if it was someone or something else?"

"Like who? El? She hasn't been to the Upside Down since after I came back."

"So what if it was you?"

"What?"

"Think about it, Will. Why else would Vecna choose you? There has to be a reason. What if this is it?"

"No. No, I don't– I don't have powers ."

"How do you know? One didn't know until he was, like, 10."

"Yeah and I'm 17. I'm pretty sure I'd know by now."

"But what if, Will? It would make sense why he chose you again and again."

"Mike, I don't want to talk about it."

"Well we sort of have to. We have to cover every possibility."

"Okay. Say that I do have powers. I don't know what they are and I don't know how to use them. They're useless."

"You mean you're useless."

"What?"

"You always try and diminish yourself and put yourself off to the side, but Will, if you have supernatural powers that control time then you might be able to go back and stop this all from ever happening!"

"What if I don't want to?" Will yells, standing up from his seat and throwing his arms to the side before slamming his palms down on the table.

"What?"

"What if I don't want to? What if I don't want to go back and live through that again? What if I don't want to relive through that horror?"

"You wouldn't. That's what I'm saying. All of that trauma would be gone."

"Not all of it," Will mumbles.

Mike rounds the table, pulling Will into a hug, the two of them burying their heads in each other's necks. Will is holding back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Mike (and especially not in his arms). It was one of the few things he'd always tried to hide– his tears. With how much Mike already cares for and looks out for him, Will doesn't want to give him any more reasons. But right now it's all just too damn much, and that blockade of tears begins to fall.

"I'm sorry," Mike says, holding Will even closer, not letting go.

"It's not your fault."

"I know. I know. I love you."

"I love you," Will slips out, not even registering that he's done so.

Mike, however, realizes. He pulls back from Will just a bit, looking him in the eyes with wonder. Will wipes eyes and nose, trying to control the snot and tears running down his face. All the while, Mike just stares at him. Will wrinkles his nose, sniffling loudly as he looks at Mike with confusion.

"What?"

"You love me?"

"What?"

"You said that you love me."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Sorry–? Sorry for what? You didn't do anything wrong."

"Loving you. I didn't want to. I tried so hard not to, but it didn't work. I tried everything, but no matter what it all came back to you, every single time."

"Is that not a good thing?"

"Not when you're you. Not after some of the things you've said and the things you've done."

"Will, I'm sorry."

"No, I know. I know you are. And I know that you'll say that a million times over until that day you die but...I can't forgive you. And yet I still love you anyways. I will keep on making up excuses for you in my head to give me a reason to keep on loving you, but I shouldn't. I shouldn't and I'm sorry."

"What does that mean, then?"

"It means that I can't let myself love you. No matter how much I do and no matter how much I want to, I can't let myself love you.

"So that's it?"

"Mike—"

"No, Will, I'm not mad. I just want to make sure."

"That's it."

"Okay," Mike says, finally letting Will go.

Will can feel himself cracking inside as Mike turns away and goes to the other side of the table, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on. With Mike no longer looking at him, Will lets the rest of his tears fall. He did it. He finally did. He finally ripped off that damned band aid, and as much as it is liberating, it also hurts like hell.

"Where are you going?" Will asks as Mike pushes his chair in and begins to walk away from the table.

"Outside."

"There’s a hoard of demodogs out there, in case you forgot."

"I'll take your gun."

"No," Will scoffs, Mike raising his brows.

"Oh well then are you coming with me?"

"No, because you're not leaving."

"I never said I was, I said I was going outside."

"I meant leaving the building."

“Well you can’t exactly keep me from doing so.”

"You know what? Fine. But don't call my name when you're getting mauled by a demodog and nipped at by demobats."

"Do you really have that little faith in me?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're trying to distance yourself. I get that. But hey, we're still best friends, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're still best friends," Will says, his face lighting up at the words and watching Mike smile before he leaves through the main door of the library.

Will stares for a moment longer before turning back to the table. He goes to his bag and grabs out their walkie talkie, tuning it to the designated channel. As he continues setting up their space, a book falls out, and it's all too similar to Nancy's. Must be Mike's.

Will knows that he shouldn't. He knows that he should put it back in the bag and forget about it, but he has an aching feeling that he has to look through it, and so he does. Despite every conscious move he's made to separate himself from Mike, and despite his brain telling him not to, his heart betrays him.

Grabbing the book, Will makes his way to a more secluded part of the library. During middle school, he'd often go there to work on his homework or to make art without any distractions. And usually, Mike was there too.

Will sits down in the beanbag chair, taking a deep breath before opening up the notebook. The month on the first page reads 'October, 1985'. It's the day Will moved to Lenora. He reads the first line, and immediately he shuts the book again. 'I love him' . The first three words in the book are 'I love him' . What a wake-up call. But that would mean, too, that Mike has been bottling these feelings up for at least three years. That long? Will hadn’t even realized his own feelings until a few months prior to the entry, and he definitely hadn’t accepted them right up until the very end– when he was sure he was never going to see Mike again.

That belief, that him moving was the end of the line, made it easier somehow to allow himself to love Mike. After all, he was loving him from afar (in more sense than one). Not seeing Mike for all that time, not talking to him much at all, not sending any gifts or letters– all of that had made loving Mike easier. Will eventually had allowed himself to express that love in the form of art. Sometimes it would get a little out of hand, yes (handhold doodles be bygones), but it always took a beautiful form. And no one had ever known. Not until Mike had brought up the painting today and said those words, shouted them at his face and into his ears. The words ring in Will’s head, and he slams the book shut once again.

What is wrong with me? The question stumbles throughout Will’s brain. What is wrong with him? Or is it not him that was the problem? Will doesn’t know.

The main door to the library creaks open before shutting with a bang. Will hides Mike’s journal next to him, making sure that if Mike comes in he won’t see. Will wasn’t looking to get into another fight today. It’ll happen, he knows, but he doesn’t want to make that happen sooner. He’d rather their next fight be their last– the one before Will does what he knows deep down has to be done. Mike will be pissed, Will knows, but he’d rather Mike live and never forgive him than be dead and not have a choice. At least alive, Mike can manage to do something . 

“Will?” Mike calls, and Will shifts in his spot on the beanbag for a second, making himself more comfortable before Mike comes into the room. “Oh. There you are. Of course you’re in here.”

“Here I am.”

Mike simply stares. There’s a longing behind his eyes, one that Will has seen before but forced himself to forget. Mike’s eyes are encapsulating. They make you want to stare into them forever, never looking away or at anything else ever again. And because Will is looking so intently, he notices when Mike’s gaze shifts down the slightest bit, his mouth parting, but not to speak.

Will can feel his body begin to become hot all over, anxiety coursing through him. He knows what Mike is thinking, and he knows what Mike wants, and he wants it too but doesn’t at the same time and he wants to look away but he can’t . And because he can’t look away it gives Mike the advantage. Mike is standing right by the beanbag, the perfect distance to pull Will’s face up to meet his own. It feels surreal. Neither one says a word. It’s too much, too little, too messy, too perfect, too many things good and bad all at once.

“God, I want to kiss you,” Mike says finally, breathlessly, practically choking on his own words.

Their faces are nowhere near close, but it feels like they’re already touching, noses brushing, lips melting into each other. Will can picture it so clearly in his mind, as if it’s more of a memory than anything else but he knows that it isn’t and so desperately wants it to be. And he knows Mike loves him, and Mike knows he loves him, and now Mike is saying he wants to kiss him even though Will has made it clear that he can’t . Will has put everything he has into pushing Mike and his feelings for Mike far, far away, but—

Will can’t do this. He can’t take it any longer. He gives in. He urgently pulls Mike down by the back of his head and neck and into a fervent kiss. Will grips at Mike’s hair and Mike’s hands roam to hold onto Will’s body so they don’t fall to the ground, but it happens anyway when Will rolls them over, tongues slipping in and out of each other’s mouths and saliva covering both their lips and chins and cupid’s bows. There’s life in it and joy in it and it’s solemn and full of sorrow. It is every emotion the two boys have felt toward each other in their seventeen years of living and fifteen years of being best friends and being in love without the other knowing and it is wonderful and amazing and it is extricating .

“I love you,” Will breathes, his lips barely parting from Mike’s for more than a second to let the words slip out of his mouth as Mike sits the two up so he doesn’t choke on his own spit.

“I love you,” Mike whispers back, trailing a line of kisses from Will’s ear back to his mouth.

“I hate you but I love you,” Will says now, he and Mike still kissing, still holding each other.

“I know,” Mike says, giving Will another kiss before continuing, “And you have every right to hate me but I could never hate you.”

At this point they’re both just adding fuel to the fire. Will feels like his life depends on this kiss and that if he doesn't get enough he’s going to simply die . And he could.

As they press their lips together and swap germs and breath in each other, Will’s mind is racings between ‘I love Mike’ , ‘I hate Mike’ , and ‘I could die before this is over’ . And every one of those statements is painstakingly true. And Will only wants one of them to be, that he loves Mike, but that’s not the reality that he lives in and so he decides to pretend like it is so he can keep kissing Mike, keep loving him, keepin holding him in his arms.

“God, I love you,” Will says, holding back tears because fuck , he loves Mike and he wishes he didn’t.

“I love you. I have loved you for years, Will. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And they’re kissing again, unable to keep themselves from doing so. The world is ending and they’re kissing in the corner of the library of the Upside Down confessing their love to one another for the tenth time already. So fucking selfish , Will thinks to himself, but only for a moment because he’s kissing Mike Wheeler .

Will’s not sure what to say. He feels liberated yet disgusting at the same time. He feels awful knowing that Mike wasn’t honest with El or himself while they were together, that he wasn’t honest with Will. He feels awful because he never told El about his feelings and because he pretended like everything was okay, all the time. He let everyone believe that the painting was for a girl and that he liked a girl and that he brought it to the roller rink because the girl was going to be there . It made Will absolutely lose his mind and now he’s kissing Mike . Mike, the ‘girl’ he made the painting for. Mike, the ‘girl’ that he liked. Mike, the ‘girl’ that he brought the painting to the airport for because Mike is the girl that everyone thinks he’s in love with , and now he’s kissing him .

“Mike, I swear I’ve loved you my whole life.”

The two continue kissing, Mike only now moving his hands up to cup Will’s cheeks, palms flat against his face, only his fingers being bent at all. Will holds onto the collar of Mike’s leather jacket. It’s the one thing Will deep down has always known Mike has wanted to do, something that he himself has fantasized about a time or two before– but Mike was different. Will knows. He knows every time Mike has looked at his lips because he’s clocked it into his brain, saving it for a later date. For a time when it might be useful, helpful, necessary . He’d drawn Mike’s lips thousands of times from those moments engraved in his brain because he couldn’t help but look too.

“My whole fucking life,” Will emphasizes, somehow managing to pull Mike closer, Mike’s hand traveling to Will’s back to keep him from falling backwards.

“God I love you, Will,” Mike says in response, deeping their kiss further.

And yeah, they’re no longer kissing. Not anymore. Now they’re simply full-on making out, but neither one cares . Fuck the world, fuck Vecna, fuck the Upside Down. They don’t care that everything’s gone to shit. Not at this moment. Not while they have their lips on each other, spilling out their love to one another time and time again because now that they’ve started they just can’t stop and there’s nothing else for them to do other than kiss each other , but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Will, you’re amazing. So fucking amazing,” Mike mumbles between kisses. “I should’ve told you sooner. Should’ve made the connections quicker.”

“Mike stop talking and just kiss me,” Will begs, not in the mood for explanations or hearing any words other than love and praise.

“I love you.”

“Mike, I love you.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I hate that I love you.”

Will presses his lips firmly to Mike’s again, and they continue on like that for a while. The constant ‘I love you’ filling the air, Will’s desperate attempt to sabotage the moment that consistently fails and only makes them both swoon harder, their hands holding each other’s faces— Will is sure this is what heaven feels like. Mike’s lips on his, breathing each other in, words barely reaching above a whisper but someone sounding like the loudest part of a song, one that only they could recite and memorize and sing to each other. And by the end of their makeout session Will is tired and breathless but so full of love and laying in Mike’s arms with Mike lazily kissing his lips and forehead and nose and eyelids and ears and cheeks and jaw and neck and shoulders and collarbones, leaving no bit unscaved by his lips. Yeah , Will thinks to himself, brain shuffling through all the movies he’s seen– all the show’s he’s watched, all the books he’s read, all the life he’s lived– this is love .

Just as Mike is leaving another light kiss to Will’s collarbone, the walkie talkie crackles to life. Mike’s eyes blink slowly, Will detangling himself from Mike’s grasp. He walks over to the table, picking up the walkie talkie and listening to it for a second again. The voice is only slightly shaky, mostly firm and strong. A woman’s voice. Nancy.

“Mike, do you copy? Over.”

“It’s Will. I copy. Over.”

“Is Mike still with you? Are you both okay? Over.”

Will looks at Mike who’s slowly getting up from the floor, readjusting his leather jacket as he does so. Will smiles, resulting in Mike blowing him a kiss his way with a wink, and Will chuckles a little when afterwards Mike nearly falls forward onto his face.

“Will?”

“Yeah–” his voice cracks, “–yeah, we’re good, Nancy. We’re good…Over.”

“When was your last contact with Lucas and Dustin? Over.”

“When we left the gate. Why? Over.”

“Since getting through watergate we haven’t been able to get a hold of them. Over.”

“Have you contacted Mom and Hopper and El? Are they okay?”

“I don’t know, but we wanted to reach you guys first. Shit—”

The line goes silent, only crackling on the other end. Then, after a minute, a new voice enters. It’s Steve.

“We’ve got problems and I have no idea how to work this thing. We are getting swarmed by bats right now and we still haven’t gotten to our location and—” he sounds like he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

“Listen Thing 1 and Thing 2, whatever you do, do not leave the library. Capiche?” Robin .

“You got it, Robin. Over,” Mike says, taking the walkie talkie from Will.

“Over and out,” Robin says, and the crackling stops.

Will immediately grabs Mike’s bag, beginning to empty everything out and only put inside things he might need to kill Vecna. He leaves his jacket, not wanting to have that extra added weight. He doesn’t care if he gets Upside Down on him. He’s had it inside him. Outside wasn’t that bad. He ties his bandana around his neck again, putting on his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Mike asks as he tries to signal for Lucas and Dustin.

“I’m going.”

“Obviously, but where?”

“Creel House.”

“Cr– Creel House ?”

“Yup.”

“Will, you heard what Robin said. We’re supposed to stay here.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You can stay here with me and we can sit together in the beanbag with the walkie talkie and our books and Nancy’s journal and wait for them to need us to find any information for them that they might need.”

“ You can do that. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t want you, Mike! He wants me. Me and El. We’re what he wants, so I’m going to give it to him.”

“Why?”

“Because Steve and Robin and Nancy and Erica and Jonathan are getting attacked, Lucas and Dustin are probably dead, Max is in a coma, and four other people have already died. I don’t want to add anyone else to that list when by going with him I could prevent it. If my mom had just let me die that day in the Upside Down—”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Mike, and you know it is. You said yourself that I’m what One wants, right? I’m what he’s after? Not just El, but me too. That’s what you said. And if you really believe that then you’ll know that we’re the only ones that can end this, even if that means our deaths.”

“I’m not letting you get yourself killed!”

“You don’t get to decide that! I’m not your boyfriend. We’re not dating. All we did was kiss and admit that we love each other. It’s a done deal. I can die happy with that. Why can’t you?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to!”

“No one should, but that’s the reality we’re living in. Wake up, Mike! This isn’t some fairytale fantasy movie where the good guys win every time. People are going to die. Let one of them be me.”

“Will, I can’t.”

“Mike, please. I am standing here begging you to let me do one thing right. One thing, Mike. Let me make things right. Let me fix this. If you really love me—”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. Don’t do that, don’t do this . Don’t do this to me, Will. Don’t do this,” both have tears in their eyes, Will’s mournful and Mike’s begging, Will’s heart breaking for the final time, never to be fixed again.

“—If you really love me you’ll let me go.”

“Will—”

“Mike, please .”

“Fine. Go. But the second you get there, I want you to call me on their walkie talkie.”

“Deal.”

“Will, I love you.”

“I know.”

“I love you so much.”

Mike pulls Will into a quick firm kiss, pulling back again but not wanting to let go. Then, he does one thing the two haven’t done since they were fourteen years old. They hug. Mike pulls Will in, tightly wrapping his arms around him, breathing him in. They sob into each other’s arms, the hug tight and warm and familiar, but just as heartbreaking as their last. It lasts for longer than it probably should, neither one really wanting to let go. When they do, Will doesn’t waste any more time. He grabs the bag and slips the straps onto his shoulders, turning and leaving for the front doors of the library. He picks up his shotgun, leaving out the giant doors. This ends now .

Will walks. He walks for a while. He walks for what feels like forever, but he keeps up his energy the entire time. Does a part of him wish he’d accepted Mike’s offer and lied in a bean bag with him, wrapped in his arms just waiting for someone to call them? Abso-fucking-lutely. But he made his choice– the right choice , he reminds himself. He wouldn't be doing this otherwise. But he can’t let anyone else die. Not because of him.

When Will is finally standing in front of Creel House, it feels almost surreal. He’s seen drawings of the building, old photos from newspapers, but he’s never actually been here, standing in front of it. The most noticeable feature, in his opinion, are the windows at the top. It sticks out to him more so than anything else. There’s the stained glass window, too, of a single rose. Beauty and the Beast , Will references in his head, noting the yellow background to it. He pushes the door open and is immediately greeted by almost being speared in the face by his mom. Joyce drops the spear, pulling Will into a hug, but it doesn't last long.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Mike. Where is he? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s fine, just– where’s your walkie talkie?”

“Here. Right here,” Joyce hands it to him, and he immediately switches it to the proper channel.

“Mike? Over.” “Will? Will, is that you? Over.” Mike’s voice through the walkie talkie is something Will will always know.

“It’s me. Over.”

“So you’re okay? Over.”

“For now. I have to go. I’ll let you know if anything happens. Over and out.”

Will shuts down the conversation quickly, not wanting to get too far into it. The walkie doesn’t crackle again, so he assumes Mike got the message. Will hands the walkie talkie back to his mom, smiling at her tightly before putting his bag down in the corner. The house is silent.

“Where’s Hop and El?”

“Upstairs in the attic. They have me standing guard.”

“Why is it so quiet?”

“Mind fight.”

Will nods, slowly making his way to the staircase. He makes sure not to have any of the steps creak. He doesn’t want to give himself away to Henry just yet. As he goes, he notices the clock on the wall, and that at the top his name is engraved there. But not just ‘Will’. It says ‘William’ . A cold chill shivers down Will’s spine as he continues making his way up, knocking once on the wall of the attic once he reaches the top. There they are. El and Vecna. They’re standing facing each other, but both have their eyes closed. Both look serious, and El’s nose is bleeding the most Will has ever seen.

“What are you doing here? It’s dangerous,” Hopper says when he hears Will’s knock.

“He wants both of us. Let him get me.”

“Kid, no. I have spent the last near decade keeping you safe.”

“Hop, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Will brushes past Hopper, shoving his shotgun into his hands. He makes his way over to El, resting a hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s supposed to do. First he tries shutting his eyes, but that doesn’t work. He tries willing himself in there with her, but that doesn’t work either. Will looks at El next to him, his sister, the only person he could really talk to that entire week he’d been missing.

“El? I know you can hear me. I need you to stop fighting. For just one second, I need you to leave the mind space. Let him get me—”

Will can barely finish his sentence before El has an arm stretching out, using her powers to pin him to the wall. She’s not hurting him by any means, simply holding him there so he doesn’t get in the way and doesn’t get hurt. But Will can’t have that. Not right now.

“El, let him. I can fight.”

El doesn’t budge, focusing on her task at hand: killing Vecna.

Will shuts his eyes again, thinking back to the clock. The rose. Beauty and the beast. It all ties together. The beast had limited time. The rose is the same symbol as the clock. Time. Will squeezes his eyes shut tighter, his hands balling into fists before he loses his strength and gives up. But then he falls to the ground harshly, and when he opens his eyes everyone around him is still, all of the particles in the air are still– everything is still except for one thing. Vecna.

“It’s nice to see you again, William.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Will says, standing up quickly and brushing himself off.

“I see you’ve found out about your gift.”

“Is this why you took me? So I could freeze the world?”

“No. I wanted you for something far, far greater.”

“Well now you have me. Just leave my friends and my family alone. You have me. We can do whatever we want now, right?”

“I always knew you would join me. There was always just one problem.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“That party of yours. And Mike.”

“Don’t lay a finger on him– any of them.”

“Too late. Your time has come, William.”

“No. No, I don’t think it has because right now time doesn’t even exist. If you get to make up the rules, so do I. My rules are that if I join you, then you leave my dimension alone. We stay here. We rule the Upside Down. I can be your puppet. Sure. I don’t care. Just leave my dimension and all of the people who belong in it alone .”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Come on, Henry. Let’s start a new party, you and me.”

Everything starts up again, El opening her eyes and quickly turning to throw Vecna against the wall. He fights back, but instead of directly against El he raises Will up into the air, closing his throat in on him, choking him without being anywhere near him. This was Will’s plan, and it was working. El fights harder, and Vecna begins to turn to dust. Still, Will’s lungs aren’t getting any air, his blood isn’t getting any oxygen, and he’s beginning to feel lightheaded. He feels like his neck is about to snap and that his esophagus is going to break.

Will is close to death. He can feel it. He can feel as he starts to slip in and out of consciousness, but he doesn’t try to fight it. Henry is right. His time has come. But he’s not afraid anymore. If you had come to him a few years before, he would have screamed and been terrified at even the thought of encountering Vecna, let alone coming up with a plan all on his own to stop him once and for all. But he’s not scared. Not this time. Not anymore.

He watches as El continues to fight against him, as Henry continues to choke Will, cutting off his air. And Hopper is shooting at him and throwing t-shirts covered in gasoline and lit on fire at him, and his mother is fighting too, but El and One are both strong as hell and then Will feels it. That last breath. He falls, eyes fluttering shut for the last time as Vecna turns into complete dust. Will’s heartbeat goes from beating the fastest it ever has to very quickly slowing down. As he falls to the ground, Vecna finally turns to dust. And then, black.

[billyhargrovc]

There was a hint of hope lingering in there somewhere. Lingering between the two; Billy knew he didn't have the right to wish for such hopeful things, but here he was hoping that maybe there could be a chance of forgiveness for him. Redemption, even. A way to make up for all that he had done; Except, there wasn't enough forgiveness in the world that could wash the blood off his hands. All those that he hurt.. the thought itself caused Billy to look away and take a seat instead.

His gaze remained forward, because a part of him was too afraid to look at Steve and hope for some forgiveness. He was incapable of it - any of it. He didn't fight hard enough and Steve was living proof that he could have. Demo bats, the monsters, all of it. His heart ached at his words and a part of him wondered if he meant it.

"Robin..." he repeated the name, unsure of who that might have been. Then again, for the past year he never paid attention to anyone but himself right? And then Robin...could that have been his girlfriend? "Well, your girlfriend's wrong because if you were a vampire -- or even a thing infected by it, you'd hate the sunlight." he pointed out. Good for him, he deserved better. Nancy was with Jonathan and now he could have a normal life or at least share this chaos with a partner. Yet the thought of him dating someone in general, irked him slightly. The thought is something he pushed away instantly.

"Was Max happy? I mean.. you know, with her friends and all?" What he wanted to ask was whether Max had missed him, or if she even spoke about him. He was a dick, yes, but the anger shouldn't have been towards Max. He should have done better.

When Steve gestured for him to follow, Billy did so without any resistance. It felt different -- everything for Billy felt different. While he was grateful he wasn't in that harsh cold prison anymore, he also hated the fact that no matter where he was, he would be known as the outsider. He was the monster after all.

He watched the way his hand touched the scar he had pointed towards and wondered just how bad was it during his absence. Could he have done something to help if he were still here? Well yes, he'd be a hell of a great fighter - except what about now? Could he be of any help to them now? His rage and anger was the only thing that remained within him and he promised himself he wouldn't use it against them. "I'm not surprised that there's such a thing as demo bats. I'm surprised you didn't turn into a vampire." it was meant to be a joke really, but a part of him was truly glad that Harrington was safe and not a vampire.

A small shrug is all he could give, because while he did go through a lot, it didn't feel like he even deserved to live. Things were messy within his mind and he wasn't sure how to admit to it. "Bet my scars are bigger than yours." he teased, and this time it truly was a teasing comment. He survived and if it ever came down to it, he'd show him.

As they reached his car, Billy waited for Steve to unlock the doors first. "For what it's worth, Harrington, i'm glad you're alive." he added finally.