#stranger things reactions

[tal-vez-o-quizas]

I want you guys to listen to this little exchange between these two reactors; it's so interesting (sorry for the shitty audio).

This is the transcript of what they say:

Girl in the middle, referring to Jason: "This guy is kind of annoying, I'm not gonna lie."

Guy on the left: "Why is he annoying?"

Girl: "Cause... The whole thing for this was like, the vengeance for Chrissy, right? But, I didn't get enough storyline between him and Chrissy to even care. I care about Chrissy dying but not... his feelings for Chrissy, you know what I mean?"

Girl: "He just... He just makes it seem so vengeful"

Guy: "That's his significant other"

Girl: "I guess. He really didn't know her, apparently"

Guy, staring at her: "Why do you think that?"

Girl: "She was going through stuff; she went to the school nurs-, eh, school counselor and he didn't know about any of that".

Guy: "Mike didn't know about El and whatever she was going through"

Girl: "She... was lying; she was miles away"

Guy nods as in "Duh!", with an "exactly" expression on his face.

Guy: "This girl Chrissy wasn't telling him the whole story"

Girl, agreeing and nodding: "... yeah. They weren't close"

Guy, giving her the side-eye, in a wondering way: "You don't think El and Mike are close?"

Girl: "No, not at the time"

Guy, nodding again: "That's some interesting points..."

Notice how both of their minds are almost close to getting it, but they don't? Or at least, for the guy located on the left side.

I want to add that he and the other guy on the right, both clocked Will as gay since Season 2 but didn't say anything until they reacted to ST3EP3, just so you know.

source from Patreon: YaBoyRockLee (youtube channel)

[wench-and-jezebel]

Stranger Things Reaction: The Vanishing of Will Byers

Wench (@scripted-downfall) reacts: A Flashback Series

See this link for context

I ain't never seen an elevator whose doors are this slow to close, I'm sorry

I mean, I guess flickering lights might interfere with elevators, but still

Oof, elevator closing wouldn't have saved him anyway.

YOUNG DUSTIN IS SO CUTE!  MY GOD, HE'S ADORABLE!  I mean, not saying anything against him nowadays but he's so adorable here!!!

Okay, I'm sorry, but, from a DM standpoint, if the players are already guessing what "surprise" monster is coming, that's kinda unfortunate.  Like, they were already bickering about whether the demogorgon were coming before Mike (I think?  idk, DM kid) played his surprise thing

The surprise was well done --- I'd've added something after "that didn't come from the troglodytes"... instead of "That came from something else" I'd've said, "That came from whatever the troglodytes were running from", but it was still well done --- but them knowing the surprise already is still iffy storytelling

They’re all so smol!?!?!? Babies

NOOO NANCY WAS SO MEAN!?  DUSTIN GOES UP ALL CUTELY AND OFFERS HER A PIZZA SLICE AND SHE SLAMS THE DOOR???? RUDE!

Dustin = current beloved of the show

Wait, hold up.  Will just crashed his bike because of a creepy thing standing in the middle of the road, and said thing (about which I'd forgotten the first time) looked like Vecna.  Were they setting this up early, or am I making this up? 

Oh, or maybe not; apparently the Demogorgon was humanoid.  I must have been mixing it up with a different creature... maybe some of the zombie dogs in Resident Evil.  I thought the demogorgon had flower-teeth-face-things... idk

So weird seeing future regulars be listed as “also starring” or something like that

Okay, Hopper looks kinda like shit

alskdjflakdfj Okay, but Will's mom getting on Johnathan is a bit uncool

Dustin continues to be adorable

Well, shit, Steve… that's an entrance

"I'm stealthy, like a ninja" aslkdjf;alksdfj BUDDY Steve, you are not 

Nancy looks so different.  Well, they all do, but still

Well, at least I'm not the only one thinking Hopper looked like hell

Wait, hold up aslkdjflakjsdf CHRISSY CARPENTER?!  Someone had a girlfriend named Chrissy C and decided to run with it

Oop- biohazard, that always goes well

NOT THE DUCT TAPE

Hello there, Eleven

She's awfully calm and trusting for someone in a lab for ages (re. her walking in without any haste whatsoever)

I find it kinda hard to believe that he could see her over that counter when she’s soooo tiny, but oh well

Them geeking out over the radio is so cute

I love Mr. Clarke so much

The Australian accents too

Hopper already done with this shit

Mike’s looking pretty damn laser-focused, just saying.  If they’re all best friends, then why is he so serious compared to the others, hmmmmm?  *cough cough* Byler *cough cough*

"After school, you are all to go home and stay there" Yeah, right.  Hopper, buddy, when does that ever work

I love Joyce so much

El is very… yellow. I'm sure her being in a yellow shirt that looks too big for her and is all ill-fitting while she doesn't look comfortable there at all has nothing to do with Mike's color being blue and Will's being yellow and her and Mike having a thing, of course not. *cough cough* Byler *cough cough*

Wait, that’s right; she’s nearly nonverbal… how tf can she talk so much/well in the s4 flashbacks?

kasjdf I love that scene… she telekinetically turns off the fan and then just goes back to her fries like it was nothing

Oh, look, the Byers’ phone is yellow

Hopper acting like the doorknob hitting the wall is conclusive; buddy, she just said she had two boys, and I’m willing to bet that door gets slammed a bunch

Oop- flickering light and broken wood

Mike’s very… impassioned… about Will’s wellbeing *cough cough* Byler *cough cough*

Oh, Ted.  *sigh*

Not Mike being very.  Concerned.  About Will. *cough cough* Byler *cough cough*

ldkflaksdf Not Steve trying and failing to sneak into Nancy's house.  Yeah, bud, you're sure as shit a ninja, mmmhmm, of course

Also.  Knowing what I know from the future.  “Steve trying and failing to sneak into Nancy’s house” is kinda really sad.  Nancy might be pissed at her parents for putting her on house arrest, but it is at least them caring about their kids, so what's it say that Steve's easily able to wander around?

Oof, this poor dude.  I remember what happens to him and he deserved betterrrr

WAIT HOLD UP Steve's actually helping her study asld;kfja;lskdjf;alkfd

alksdjf;lakjsdf not Johnathan blaming himself for Will going missing and Joyce being all "don't do tht to yourself it wasn't your fault" after ragging on him for it less than an episode ago

The yellow phone is back

Eleven!  Dun dun duuun!

Ep 1 is done!

[hothammies]

getting caught cuddling with your "bro" gotta be the most embarrassing shit ever (fic from @campbyler)

[chopinrefound]

Found Party✨

[spookystarfishzombie]

[hnbka]

we just keep winning

[lucascsinclairs]

Max Mayfield in Stranger Things 2 | Chapter Eight: The Mind Flayer

"Hey guys! Why are you headed towards the sound?"

[stevie-petey]

episode three: holly, jolly

Jonathan, your Jonathan, would never do this.  He tries to approach you again but you find yourself stumbling back, knocking against Steve’s chest. Hurt flashes in his eyes, you’ve never flinched at Jonathan’s touch, but what he did has changed everything.  Steve places a hand on your shoulder. “See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.”  He begins tearing up the pictures, and you can’t believe Jonathan of all people is making you agree with Harrington, yet here you are.

summary: you and jonathan talk it out and things are better (spoiler alert: they aren't), you somehow end up agreeing with steve harrington ?? then you have a minor breakdown in front of the kids and once again fail to prevent them from experiencing more trauma.

rating: general, slight cursing.

warnings: cursing, use of the word “slut”, fem!reader, use of y/n, and description of a dead body. this chapter is pure angst, steve is steve, jonathan is jonathan, and... well. we know how this episode ends.

words: 6.2k

before you swing in: hello ! i'm currently in the early stages of chapter 5, and it's a loooong chapter, so i figured i'd treat y'all to this one before taking my time with updating. this chapter was a bit difficult in terms of bug and jonathan, but i promise that they'll have more time later to really figure out why they keep clashing - for better or for worse lol. if their relationship feels stilted: that's why ! after all, season 1 is literally titled: we don't talk about it or have the time. the title has immense meaning for the overall tone of season 1 (and the song for the series shhh). anyways, enjoy <3

-

The next day you bike to school alone, not bothering to see if Jonathan’s car will pick you up as usual. 

The two of you have never fought before, at least not like this. From the moment you met him when you were twelve, there has never been a time where the two of you haven’t been on the same page. You’ve been in sync from the moment you met. 

Now it feels like everything is off between the two of you. It feels as if the tiny planet you live on is now off kilter, angled ever so slightly now, rotating out of sync. The change is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. You can feel it. 

Last night just proved that there’s something wrong with your relationship with Jonathan, but you can’t figure out what.

Jonathan has never yelled at you before, and you’ve never turned your back on him; then again, he’s also never kept anything from you. While he didn’t admit it last night, you know him. He was hiding something from you last night and it frightens you that he seems too ashamed to tell you what it is. 

You trust him, you do, but the guilt you saw in his eyes makes you uneasy. 

As you walk the school hallway towards your locker, you overhear some girls from your English class talking about Steve and Nancy. You normally wouldn’t eavesdrop on such a conversation, but the girls were talking obnoxiously loud and by the tone of their voice, they weren’t being kind about what they were saying. 

“I heard Harrington got little Miss Wheeler to sleep with him.” One of the girls giggles, looking around to make sure no one is listening.  

“What a slut!” Her friend sneers.

You clear your throat loudly, making sure they hear it, and send a glare their way. “Well, aren’t you guys just peachy?” 

The girls lower their eyes and shift uncomfortably, which pleases you. Good. They should feel bad. What does it matter if Nancy slept with Harrington? It’s always the girls who get labeled the slut, never the man who has slept with more girls than classes he’s passed. 

Typical. 

You roll your eyes at them and continue towards your locker, spotting the couple in question up ahead. Your locker is a few down from Nancy’s and usually you’ve been able to avoid their gross lovey-dovey sessions in the mornings since Jonathan is always running late, but since you didn’t ride with him, you’re forced to deal with two hormonal teens who you don’t necessarily like. 

“Hey, Henderson!” 

Steve stops you as you walk past, causing you to look up in confusion. “Yeah?” 

“How’s Byers doing? Ya know, with everything going on?”

You stare at him, trying to figure out what the punchline is supposed to be. Steve may not be a massive dick, but he’s still a dick, and you can’t imagine he’d ever ask about Jonathan given the fact that he can’t even remember Will’s name. 

“He’s… dealing.” You say, uncomfortable with the entire conversation. 

Steve nods, letting out a slight hum. “Well, tell your guy that any friend of Henderson’s is a friend of mine.” He sends a wink Nancy’s way, and it’s then that you figure out what he’s doing. He’s playing the nice guy card, trying to impress her with his “generosity”, and you’ve had enough of idiotic and emotionally constipated men these last 24 hours. 

“Funny, I don’t tell my friends to get fucked, yet here we are: get fucked, Harrington.” Steve’s eyes widen at your words, taken aback, and Nancy goes to say something but you cut her off. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Nancy. Why don’t you ask him why everyone’s staring at you? I’m sure it’ll be a thrilling conversation.”

You shove past the two of them and make your way to class. 

– 

You don’t see Jonathan for your next three classes, which only makes your shitty day worse. Not only have you guys never fought before, but you’ve never done the silent treatment either. As far as you can tell, there’s no reason for him not to be in class today besides your fight the night before. 

When it’s your lunch hour you try to find him, because at this point you just want to put it all behind you and move on to focus on Will. You never got the chance to tell Jonathan about El last night, you hadn’t had the time to before things blew up. 

You wait at your usual corner of the lunchroom for Jonathan, but he never appears. You sigh in defeat and pick at your meal, which honestly looks more like prison food than anything else, trying to figure out what you should do next. 

While you’re thinking, Carol’s obnoxious moans carry through the lunchroom. “Oh, Steve! Steeeve!”

Tommy joins in now, banging the table to get a bigger reaction. You see Steve trying not to smile at their antics, but it’s obvious to everyone how uncomfortable Nancy is. You feel pity for her, she deserves better than Harrington and his immature friends. Then again, you suppose she chose this for herself the second she started dating him. 

King Steve has never hidden who he is. 

You watch as Steve says something to appease her, but something catches Nancy’s eye and she turns to face it. Curious, you turn as well and spot Jonathan staring right back at her. They share a look, one that you can’t decipher, and you feel something twist within your stomach. 

It’s not jealousy, at least, not in that way. Jonathan is your only real friend in Hawkins (the kids don’t count, you recognize how embarrassing that is), and you’ve never had to share him before. Clearly Nancy has taken an interest in him of some sort and Jonathan, being ever the private person, has allowed her to, so you just have to swallow down your pride and accept it. 

Besides, you did always tell Jonathan that the two of you needed more friends. 

Taking a deep breath to will your nerves away, you ditch your lunch and follow after Jonathan. Screw whatever silent treatment is in place, he’s your best friend and you honestly don’t think it’s possible for you to ever be angry at him. It just isn’t in your nature. 

For better or for worse, you could never hate Jonathan Byers. 

You catch Jonathan as he’s leaving the photo developing room. He’s holding some pictures in his hands but quickly hides them away when he sees you. 

“Y/N, hi.” 

You ignore the voice in the back of your head telling you that something’s wrong, that he’s still acting weird with you, but you ignore it because you just want some normalcy in your life. You need your best friend. “Hey,”

“Look, I’m so sorry for what I said last night…” 

You brush him off, “It’s okay, I promise.”

Jonathan huffs at you, exasperated as always whenever you let people get away with things that they shouldn’t. “No, it’s not okay. You’ve been nothing short of amazing and I was the dick who yelled at you for it.” 

The two of you are walking out of the school as you talk, and you let out a weak laugh. “I guess you were pretty awful, huh?”

He doesn’t laugh along with you, instead shaking his head in shame. “You didn’t deserve that, not after all you’ve done for me and my mom. I was lying through my teeth last night, you are family, Y/N.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s genuinely okay-” 

“Bug, I was a dick. End of discussion. I just… sometimes it feels like I don’t deserve your help, you do so much for us. I let it get to me last night, and I’ll never stop apologizing for it.”

You don’t know what to say, caught off guard by the vulnerability. “Just… don’t do that again, alright? If something is bothering you I’d rather you tell me about it than take your frustration out on me.”

“Deal.”

“Anything else on your mind?” 

Jonathan thinks for a moment and you can tell he’s trying to word whatever is on his mind correctly. “While I know you’ve always loved to help, there’s some things that I have to do on my own, okay? Will, my mom… they’re my responsibility, not yours. I mean, not in a bad way-” 

“Hey, I understand. I need to back off a bit, I recognize that now. I’m sorry, bee.” You kick at a rock in the parking lot, “so we’ve got ourselves a deal?” 

The boy gives you a quizzical look and you laugh at him, extending your hand. When he grabs it, you turn the hold into a handshake. “I’ll calm down my fretting antics and you’ll come to me about whatever is on your mind, no matter what; we don’t hide anything from each other.”

The slight smile Jonathan briefly had on his face vanishes. He pales slightly and quickly releases your hand. “Right.” 

You eye him. “Bee, what aren’t you telling me?”

Caught up in conversation, you and Jonathan don’t see Steve and his gang resting against his car until it’s too late. 

“Hey, man.” Steve approaches, effectively ending your conversation with Jonathan. He glances at you. “Henderson, good to see you again.” 

“I highly doubt it.” 

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asks, putting himself between you and Steve. 

“Nicole here was telling us about your work.”  

Confused, you look at Jonathan. “What, did you start another photo series or something?” 

Steve laughs coldly. “You could say that.” 

Jonathan ignores him and pulls you close behind him, ducking his head down to whisper into your ear, “it’s not what it looks like, trust me.” 

“Bee, what-”

“Henderson, want to take a look with us as, you know, connoisseurs of art?” 

You look at Steve now, more confused than ever, but you feel a slight sense of dread. You know that whatever photo he’s about to pull out will be bad. You know it’ll be connected to Jonathan’s behavior last night, to the guilt he’s been carrying, to the way he hid the same pictures from you not even ten minutes ago. 

You look back to Jonathan now, silently pleading with him for more of an explanation, but he averts his eyes. Exhaling deeply, you face Steve. “Show me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jonathan says, trying to walk away, but Tommy grabs at his backpack. 

“Hey!” You run up to Tommy and start pulling at the bag, but the guy is twice your size and easily wins, accidentally flinging you to the ground. 

Jonathan runs over to check on you. “Y/N!”

At the same time, Steve berates his friend. “Woah, Tommy, easy man! Henderson isn’t who we’re here for, leave her out of this.” 

Both boys crouch next to you and offer you a hand, but you bat them away. You’re irritated and confused and pissed the fuck off at both of them right now for vastly different reasons. You pick yourself up and brush away some dirt that got on your jeans. “Show me the photos, Jonathan.” 

He looks at you, hurt. “Do you not trust me?” 

“Do you trust me?” Your words hang in the air.

Steve is now right behind you. “Oh man he’s like, totally trembling. He must really have something to hide.” 

Jonathan tries to step closer to you, but Steve is now the one who blocks him. You watch silently as he unzips Jonathan’s bag and pulls out the photos, ignoring the pleading look that your friend sends your way. You trust Jonathan more than anyone else in this world, but something doesn’t feel right. 

The photos are tame at first, though admittedly creepy. They’re all still shots of Steve and his friends from the night before, you recognize the famous pool that the whole school talks about when it comes to Harrington’s parties. 

“Your boyfriend is a creep, Y/N.” Steve says, nudging you with his shoulder as he continues to flick through the pictures. 

“He isn’t my-” 

“I was looking for my brother.”

Jonathan’s words make you freeze. “You went looking for Will without me?” 

Steve says something else, but you don’t catch it. You stare at Jonathan, hurt that he’d search for Will without even telling you first. He’s his brother, you understand that, but what would you do if Jonathan went missing too?

Nancy then appears, causing Jonathan to finally look up to catch your eye, but he quickly looks away. “Here’s the starring lady!”

She laughs nervously. “What?”

Carol explains what was going on, and you’re too upset to speak. There’s too many thoughts going through your mind, but when Carol flashes you a picture of Nancy, naked, it takes everything in you not to throw up. 

Jonathan, your Jonathan, would never do this. 

He tries to approach you again but you find yourself stumbling back, knocking against Steve’s chest. Hurt flashes in his eyes, you’ve never flinched at Jonathan’s touch, but what he did has changed everything. 

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. “See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.” 

He begins tearing up the pictures, and you can’t believe Jonathan of all people is making you agree with Harrington, yet here you are. 

Nancy is his girlfriend, and even outside of that, Jonathan had no right taking pictures of her naked without her consent. You agree with Steve’s actions, but then the camera comes into play. He reaches for Jonathan’s camera, causing him to dive forward to stop anything from happening to it, and it’s finally what breaks you from your shock. 

You react as well, shoving past Steve to try and get to the camera first, but it’s no use. He beats you to it, Carol now holding you back as she digs her claws into your skin. Jonathan is being held back by Tommy, and all the two of you can do is watch helplessly as Steve dangles the camera high in the air. 

What Jonathan did was wrong, there’s no denying that, but you know how long it took him to save up for the thing. How many awful shifts he picked up at the theater to pay for it, adamantly refusing any money both you and Joyce offered him to help pay for it. 

This camera was his and his alone. Paid for with his own money, bought for his own enjoyment, his pride and joy. 

“Here you go, man.” Without even hesitating, Steve lets the camera fall to the ground. 

You gasp, watching as the lens shatters and you crouch down to try and piece it back together. Your hands are shaking, you don’t know what to feel right now, but with how badly your hands shake, it’s no use trying to fix the camera; you need something to distract yourself with. 

Jonathan and Nancy join you on the ground, but you’re too overwhelmed to really notice them. The combination of emotions leaves you wondering if you’re about to cry, throw up, or both. It’s only when Nancy begins snatching up the torn pictures that you acknowledge her presence. 

You grab her hand and catch her eye, “I’m so, so sorry.”

She doesn’t respond, only giving you a slightly confused look, and you recognize how stupid it is that you feel the need to apologize for Jonathan’s actions. You aren’t his keeper, and until now you never even considered he’d do something like this, and yet the guilt creeps in. You open your mouth to say something else, but Steve calls her over to join them and she leaves. 

Jonathan is still next to you, remaining silent even after Nancy’s departure. You can feel his eyes on you as you continue to fumble with the broken camera pieces as a gust of wind blows away the remaining photo shreds. 

“Shit!” A shard of glass from the lens cuts your finger, drawing blood. 

“Bug, let me-” Jonathan grabs at your hand to inspect the cut, but you pull away harshly. 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“Y/N…” The hurt look on his face is almost enough to make you crack, but the blood drips from your finger and falls onto a picture that somehow didn’t blow away. You look at it, seeing the outline of Nancy’s back in the photo, her beautiful side profile perfectly captured. 

The urge to throw up returns. 

“You’re hurt, let me look at it.” Jonathan pleads, his voice soft, with more empathy than he’s ever shown you these last few days. It’s as if last night never happened. As if you’re some idiot who is always ready and willing to come crawling back to those who discard you whenever they please. 

In a way, you suppose that you are. 

You hate it. 

Jonathan tries to grab your hand again but you stand up before he can. “I said don’t touch me.” 

He tries to grab you once more but again you pull away. Your brain is a mess right now trying to comprehend everything that happened within the last fifteen minutes. You look down at the broken camera pieces still laying on the ground, its glass reflecting in the late afternoon light. 

Those photos of Nancy… 

God, you’re an idiot. 

“Nancy is the reason you were such an asshole to me last night, isn’t she?”

“Y/N, those photos-”

“You knew that the second I looked at you I’d know you’d done something terrible.”

Jonathan is silent beside you, but you don’t need to hear whatever excuse he’ll give you to know that you’re right. Instead of telling you what he did last night, he kicked you out of his home in a guilt-crazed daze, saying horrible things to you that he can never take back. 

Instead of being honest with you, he had been a goddamn coward who hurt you in the cruelest way possible. 

Jonathan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, you know I’ve never been able to lie to you-”

“So naturally you resorted to screaming at me and saying we aren’t family-”

“I regret what I said, but how was I supposed to tell you about the photos if I don’t even know why I took them in the first place?” 

You start pacing around the parking lot, too overwhelmed to stay put. Jonathan’s words only confuse and upset you more. In the midst of your frantic pacing the cut on your finger begins to bleed more, which causes you to wince and catch Jonathan’s attention.

“Bug, you’re in pain,” his voice is gentle now, the worried crease between his brows now prominent in a way that you’ve always found cute. “I’m not just going to stand around while you’re hurt. Let me help.” 

Unfortunately for Jonathan, his words only piss you off more. 

“You’re not just going to stand around while I’m hurt? That’s fucking rich coming from you, Jonathan.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This entire week I’ve been hurting! I mean,” you let out a laugh laced with tears threatening to spill out. “I lost Will too, did you ever consider that? And I understand he’s your brother and I would lose my mind if anything ever happened to Dustin, but I’ve done nothing but love and support you through this shit show and you haven’t even asked how I’m holding up. I mean, what kind of best friend does that?”

Shame washes over Jonathan. “I didn’t think-” 

“I’ve been exhausting myself trying to help and not once have I considered it a burden because I’m doing this for Will, for you. I’m doing what any decent person is supposed to do, and I’m not asking for praise or-or for a reward but holy fuck, Jonathan! I mean, I understand now that maybe I was bit too much but,”

You’re yelling at him now, all the frustration you’ve been swallowing down these last few days now spills out. “At least treat me like a human being! I mean, the stunt you pulled last night was such bullshit and I was ready to excuse your actions because you’re my best friend and you’re hurting, but then you hide those damn photos from me? Scream at me like I’m some pathetic fucking child because you’re too ashamed of your own actions? We don’t lie to each other.”

Jonathan steps towards you and it isn’t until he’s cradling your head in his hands to wipe away your tears do you realize you’re crying. He’s so tender, gently wiping the tears as they fall, and you feel weak against him, closing your eyes as you soak up the affection. 

“Bug…” His voice cracks, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your eyes now. “You went looking for Will without me… did you even think about what your mom would do if you disappeared too? What I would do if you disappeared?”

“I…”

“And Nancy…” you pull away so that he’s no longer touching you. “That was a line I never thought you would cross. And to lie to me about it, I just… why?”

Jonathan shakes his head, a few tears of his own now beginning to fall. “I don’t know.” 

There’s nothing else you can say; you’ve drained all your energy. A headache is beginning to form and with the parking lot clearing out, indicating the end of the school day, you know you need to leave for work soon. 

Normally when you look at Jonathan, you feel a sense of security, but now all you feel is dread. His shoulders are hunched, the bags under his eyes darker than ever, and at this moment you’re not sure you know who he is anymore. It terrifies the shit out of you. 

“I should go,” you wipe your nose with your sleeve, side stepping Jonathan as you start walking towards the bike stand. 

“You’re leaving?” There’s fear in his voice, and you can hear the undertones of are you leaving me, too?

“I have to work tonight, so I need to-” 

“Let me drive you then, it’s cold and-and we can talk more about this-”

He follows you to your bike and you feel such pity for him. You know he’s right about needing to talk more, but all you want right now is to crawl into bed and pretend that this whole week has been a dream. A horrible, awful dream. 

You offer Jonathan your hand, the cut on your finger no longer bleeding, and intertwine your fingers with his. “I want to be alone right now, okay? Please, just give me some time.” 

He wants to argue with you, you can see it in his eyes, but just like you know him better than anyone else, he knows you just as well. He knows there’s no use trying to change your mind when you get like this; when the feelings become too much and solitude is your only solution. It's happened before in the past, but never with him. 

All he can do is wait for you to come back when you're ready. 

“Okay, I can do that.” 

You squeeze his hand, like you always do, before you let go and bike away. 

He watches as you leave. 

– 

Tonight’s shift is another slow one, which you’re grateful for. 

It was just last week that Jonathan had been driving you, Will, and Dustin to school. You’d been singing some song on the radio and the November air had a slight nostalgia of August warmth. Will and Dustin complained about your singing as you wailed on, Jonathan eventually joining in so that the two younger boys could only cover their ears with their hands and groan in annoyance. 

Now Will is gone, taking the August warmth with him and leaving behind only November cold that leaves your bones feeling raw. 

The laughter is gone, and now you’re afraid that your best friend is gone as well. 

You come home to an empty house, a note on the kitchen counter informing you that your mother is at her knitting club and that Dustin is off with his friends. 

Wonderful. Your brother has once again gone off on some adventure without informing you first. What a lovely addition to your already horrible day. 

You call the Wheeler’s first, hoping that maybe you don’t have to bike around the entire town to find the little shit, but like always: you’re mistaken. 

“I’m sorry, but the boys went out biking right after school.” 

“Oh, lovely then. Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler, have a good night.” 

“You too, dear!”

As soon as you hang up, you allow yourself a moment to just scream. The headache that formed during your fight with Jonathan hasn’t left, you’re tired, you have so much homework that you’re too afraid to even look at, and you still have no idea who El is or what she really knows about Will. 

And now you have to bike all around Hawkins to find said girl, because there’s no way the morons have listened to your orders to stay put with her. 

You check Lucas’ house first, but Erica tells you that they aren’t there and requests that you inform Lucas that her lying fee has been raised to $5. 

“That’s a bit steep, don’t you think?”

“Do you wanna pay?”

“Good point, have a good night then Erica.”

You then search around the middle school, but there’s no sign of them anywhere. After another thirty minutes of nothing, you finally give in to your hunch and bike to the Byers. You’re not sure if Jonathan will be home, but your idiot brother may need you, so you just have to suck it up and check. 

Ultimately you’re glad you do, because as you ride up the driveway you see the boys circling around El. 

“Why did you bring us here?” 

“I have a better question Mike, why did you bring us here?” None of the kids had noticed your arrival, so they all jump at your voice. 

Dustin’s face goes pale. “Y/N! What-what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you little assholes for an hour now,” you park your bike and step closer to the kids. “Why do you never listen to me when I tell you guys to keep me updated, huh? Do I have a giant sign on my head that says ‘hey, ignore me and treat me like utter shit!’, is that it?” 

No one responds, too stunned by your words. You never cuss at them, and apart from last night, they don’t think they’ve ever seen you so angry before. 

“I’m just so sick and tired of people treating me like I’m some throwaway toy, just casting me aside and forgetting about me until it’s convenient. I have feelings too, isn’t that a wild concept? I mean, who knew Y/N Henderson had any real emotions behind her pathetic need to help everyone around her!” 

Dustin can hear the hurt in your voice and knows that this isn’t just about them sneaking off. You’re upset about something else, someone hurt you and he needs to know who, so he softly asks, “Y/N, what happened?” 

You spin around to face him. “Nothing! That’s what happened! None of you told me anything, everyone has just decided to keep me out of the loop because god forbid I deserve any honesty after years of being there for you guys-”

“Okay, this is definitely about Jonathan then.” Lucas mumbles, which Mike nods in agreement to. 

“This is not about Jonathan-” The sound of sirens cuts you off. 

Everyone freezes, and your heart stops. This is Hawkins, where nothing ever happens; cops don’t just go flying down the street late at night. 

You know, even before you can fully comprehend how, that it’s Will. You can feel it; the sirens are for him, the precious boy you’ve come to love like your own brother. 

Then, to confirm your fears, an ambulance follows behind the line of cop cars, and you feel your entire world shatter.  

“Will…” Mike exhales, and the second the name leaves his lips everyone scrambles for their bikes to follow the cars. 

You know you shouldn’t, you know this won’t end well, but it’s Will. Maybe he’s alive, maybe he simply got lost in the woods and has been wandering around the last three days or so. There’s so many other possibilities, an endless array of explanations, and yet…

Your legs feel heavy as you pedal after the kids. You know that, no matter what you guys end up finding, that nothing will ever be the same again. As you follow, the route you take begins to look familiar, back when you and Jonathan would spend your summers exploring the forest and its surroundings. 

The quarry. 

Suddenly you can’t breathe. “I… I can’t-” 

“Y/N, we have to see if it’s Will!” Dustin calls behind him, too eager to realize exactly where you guys are going. 

If you could just warn them, maybe speed up to block their paths, you could convince them to turn around, but it’s too late. The five of you arrive at the quarry’s edge and toss your bikes behind the fire truck. You see the firemen in the water, sloshing around for something, and you realize what they’re doing a second too late.

Immediately you begin to pull the kids away, not wanting them to see what you desperately hope you’re wrong about, but you’re too late. “Guys, get away from the truck, we shouldn’t be here-”

You’re always too fucking late. 

“Please, we need to leave,” your voice shakes as you try to shield the kids from the sight of Will’s body being pulled from the water.

Mike pulls away from you. “No, it’s not Will. It can’t be.” 

“Mike…” 

The firemen lift the raft up higher and the light lands on Will’s lifeless body, and you feel a piece of you die. He’s always been the smallest of the boys, but as the men lift his dead body out of the water, he’s never looked so small. Will is gone; he’s taken all the light with him. 

Dustin reaches for your hand and is the first to start crying. You pull him into your chest as he sobs. Lucas looks over at you, a silent acceptance in his eyes. “It’s Will. It’s really Will.” 

You grab the boy and pull him into you as well, the two of them now crying as you hold them. All you can do right is hold your boys, staring off into space as you feel them shake with grief against you. This isn’t real. 

From the corner of your eye you see El approaching Mike, and you’re too numb to warn her against it. “Mike…” 

“‘Mike’? ‘Mike,’ what?” He slaps her hand away, which causes you to become alert. He’s hurting, you know Mike loved Will more than anyone else, but he’ll only hurt himself more if he pushes everyone away. 

“Mike, I know you’re upset-” 

He faces you, a betrayed look in his eyes. “Upset? She was supposed to help us find him alive. She said he was alive!” he turns to El now, “why did you lie to us? What’s wrong with you?”

As he yells at the girl you hear his own tears beginning to form, and as you hold his friends, you lean closer to Mike and use your other hand to console him, but he begins to run away. 

Dustin and Lucas watch helplessly as their friend leaves, you all call after him but are ignored. They beg him to stay, too scared to be separated once more now that Will is gone, but Mike doesn’t listen. He grabs his bike, leaving you and the boys alone with El. 

She looks at you, tears in her eyes and a pleading look on her face. She’s looking to you for reassurance, to console her and tell her that everything will be okay with Mike, that he’ll forgive her, but you can’t. 

You also feel betrayed by the girl. You don’t think she was lying, in a sense, but then how can she explain Will’s dead body 50 feet away? El promised you and the boys that Will was alive, but he’s not. 

Tears start to fall down her face. “Y/N?”

You’re sure that when you look back on this moment later, you will have wished that you had done something braver, something more kind to the terrified girl, but you don’t. Instead of wrapping her into your arms alongside Lucas and Dustin, you give El a curt shake of your head, dismissing her. 

It hurts to watch her leave, and you’re ashamed of yourself, but then Dustin lets out another sob while Lucas tightens his hold around you, and you know that you’ve made the right choice for now. You don’t know El or her intentions, but her actions have hurt the people you love the most, and right now you have to put them first. 

You let the boys cry, barely registering anything else. 

– 

Later, much later, after getting Lucas home and tucking Dustin into bed, you finally allow yourself to grieve. You lay in your bed, staring at the framed drawing on your desk that Will had made you for your birthday this year. It was a sweet gift, having drawn you as a princess in one of their DnD campaigns with your sword and shield. Jonathan stands next to you in the picture, holding his own sword and wearing a crown, while Will and the boys are next to him, dressed in their own armor. 

In the picture the six of you are facing a dragon, but there’s a smile on all of your faces as you fight the creature together. You, Jonathan, and your boys; together, there’s nothing that you guys cannot defeat.

It’s your favorite drawing of Will’s. 

And now it’s your last drawing from him. 

The tears come slowly at first, then all at once. You find yourself hunched over, letting out anguished sobs as you mourn for the boy, for Jonathan and Joyce, for your brother and his friends. You mourn for the Byers losing a child, a brother. You mourn for your brother’s now tainted childhood. He’s too young, they all are too young to be experiencing such a loss. 

Will was too young. 

You cry until there’s nothing left within you, and yet the sobs still wrack against your body long after the tears have dried up. It’s a pain like no else. 

Then, as you’re finally beginning to calm down, you hear a knock at your window. 

You get up and fling your curtain open to find Jonathan on the other side. 

Neither of you say anything as you open the window and let him in. Once he’s inside the two of you face each other, unmoving and silent for what feels like years. There’s still a tension there from earlier, though this afternoon feels like decades ago. Jonathan stares at you, a guarded and unsure look on his face, as though he’s afraid that if he breaks in front of you that you’ll push him away. 

Instead, you surprise him by throwing yourself against his chest and into his arms. 

You’re not sure who begins to cry first, but it doesn’t matter. His cries only make you cry harder, having never seen your best friend this heartbroken before, and it’s all so fucking unfair. He doesn’t deserve this, no one does, but especially not Jonathan. He loved his brother so much, with such an intensity that rivaled your own love for Dustin. 

Jonathan pulls away a bit so that he can look at you; tears stream down his face. “He’s gone, bug.” 

“Bee,” you don’t know what more to say. What can you even say? While it feels like your heart has been ripped from your chest along with your bones, you know it only feels worse for Jonathan. No words could ever soothe that ache. 

“He’s gone,”

You grab at his jacket and gently guide him so that you sit on your bed. “Jonathan, look at me.” It takes some coaxing, but eventually he listens. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

Your voice cracks at the end, your own grief getting in the way, but it’s all you can say right now. You’re not sure how else to phrase it, how else to tell him that even if everything and everyone else is gone, you’re still here. You’ll never, ever leave him, especially not when he needs you the most now. 

Despite the vague words, Jonathan nods, always able to understand you, and he rests his head against your shoulder as the two of you cry. Faintly you can hear Dustin’s cries through the wall, but you leave him alone. You know he needs to process this alone, just like you needed to, just like Jonathan had before coming here. 

Tomorrow you’ll comfort your brother, you’ll bake the cookies that Joyce loves, and tonight will pass. A day must always end. This day will end, and tomorrow will come. Then, you’ll face this together with everyone you love. 

For now, your best friend needs you, so you let him cry into your shoulder and you run your nails against his scalp and whisper soothing words. Fuck whatever is going on between the two of you. 

Will is dead. The best of you, the purest of you, is dead.

-

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[afewproblems]

I just got a tattoo done and was thinking about all of the before and after care instructions they gave me and how older Eddie would have possibly reacted to the list of things he would need to do or items to purchase for a new addition to his sleeve.

The artist reaches out to Eddie years after corroded coffin makes it big. She's fairly well known as a minor celebrity herself in the tattoo and body modification space in LA, so when she contacts Eddie's agent about offering a new piece for his eclectic sleeve he checks out her portfolio and is immediately sold.

She sends him the idea and he signs off on it right away and before they know it, he and Steve are on a plane from Chicago to Los Angeles.

It isn't until it's done, and the second skin is placed over the piece, smoothed out to ensure no bubbling, that Eddie balks at the secondary list of steps he needs to take.

The artist taps out the instruction email on her phone, hitting send with a dimpled grin before reaching out to shake his hand and Steve's, thanking them for being such great new clients. She asks Steve if he would be interested in a piece at some point, to which he smiles politely and shakes his head.

Steve has never been into tattoos for himself, though he's always gone to great lengths to admire and kiss each piece on Eddie's body.

Eddie half listens as they continue to chat, pulling out his phone to review the email she sent him.

"Ensure that you leave the second skin on for three to five days and upon its removal (see removal instructions on page two)..."

Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes right then and there. It's not as though this is his first ever tattoo, he's been getting ink since before this girl was even born.

He winces at the thought, reminding himself that just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know her shit, and she clearly does. He shakes his head and nods when Steve says goodbye for them and they make their way to the elevator.

"Okay, what's with the face?" Steve asks quietly as soon as the door closes.

Eddie sighs and folds his arms over his chest, careful not to bump the now tender area on his forearm.

"You look like you swallowed a lemon, spill," he reaches out for Eddie's shoulder, his warm hazel eyes, now lined with gentle wrinkles at the edges search his face, "do you not like it?"

Eddie barks out a laugh, "it's probably one of the nicest ones in the whole collection, no Stevie, it's not that".

Steve raises his eyebrow now and just looks at Eddie until the elevator dings and the doors open before them.

God Dammit.

He loves and hates this ability, that Steve knows Eddie will crack eventually if he just waits long enough.

"Fine!" Eddie sighs as they make their way back to the hotel.

It's gorgeous out, nothing like the weather back home right now, the palm trees lining the streets and the twinkling fairy lights on every corner gives the area an almost magical feel, despite the bustling pedestrians packing the sidewalks.

"It's a little weird all the instructions," Eddie says eventually. He speaks slowly, doing his best to articulate exactly what he feels.

Steve nods, though the confused pinch between his brow doesn't quite fade.

"And I've been getting these done since it eighties, Steve, it's just a little--"

Eddie growls and tugs on his hair in frustration, "I don't want to be shitty".

Steve shrugs and loops his arm around Eddie's small waist, tugging him closer.

"Be shitty, you know I love it," he grins and lifts his free hand to remove Eddie's from his hair, "what about the instructions made you upset?"

"It's like I'm being talked down to," Eddie says with a frown, "I got a stick and poke from Jeff in '84 that was totally fine with out any of this," he lifts his arm now to show off the shiny second skin to Steve who nods.

"And which one was that again?" Steve asks, there's a leading lilt to his voice that makes Eddie want to sit on the sidewalk.

He huffs out a low whine, "Steve--"

"Eddie," Steve answers with a soft smile.

And Eddie knows he's lost this argument, if you could even call it that, because the bats that Jeff did for him all the way back in '84, have since been covered up.

Over the years they had morphed into six blobs of bluish grey on the back of his forearm that could no longer be distinguishable as bats, and after being asked about his 'abstract' tattoos by an interviewer a few years back, he had made the decision to get them covered.

And it could have been any number of things that lead to the eventual fading and blobification of his bats, but Eddie figured it was probably because they had almost immediately gotten infected a few days after Jeff had finished them in his parents garage.

Eddie clears his throat and opens the email on his phone again, taking another look at the list the artist had sent him.

"Fine, you gonna help me take care of this thing Stevie?" Eddie grumbles as they enter the revolving door of the hotel, stepping carefully into the pie shaped section to avoid colliding with the moving entryway.

Steve snorts and lets his hand curl through one of the belt loops on Eddie's jeans, "I think I remember agreeing to something like that, in sickness and health?"

He leans forward and nuzzels his nose into Eddie's ear, "till the end of our days".

[ryan-waddell11]

kings of breaking the 4th wall

[estrellami-1]

The Easiest Thing (I’ve Ever Done)

Had an idea. I don’t know if it’s anything, or if it makes any sense, but I like it. I hope y’all do too!

The camera’s shaky, moving from Eddie trying to place his phone down, making sure to keep his face in frame. “Baby,” he sings, looking off-camera. “Would you peel me an orange?”

A slight pause before, “Hypothetical or literal?”

Eddie blinks. “Uh. Literal?”

“How many do you want?”

Eddie gapes. “Just- just like that? No teasing? Nothing about me being capable? Nothing at all?”

“It’s an orange, babe. ‘S not like me carrying you out of-”

Eddie scrambles for his phone, and the video cuts off.

It picks up again later. They’re in the living room now, and Eddie’s filming Steve, who had just asked him a question. “Say it again.”

“Say-?”

“The question you just asked me. Ask me again.”

Steve gestures to the TV. “We just watched 50 First Dates, Eds, I don’t think it’s crazy of me to ask if you’d do that for me.”

“Stevie. Baby. Light of my life. Look me in my eyes and ask me again. But before you do, think about two years ago when you got a concussion and the resulting short-term amnesia.”

Steve closes his eyes and leans his head back with a groan. “I’m an idiot.”

“Are not,” Eddie says hotly, and the video cuts off again.

It picks up again later. It’s dark in the room, and Eddie’s got his finger to his lips, as if he’s telling the audience to be quiet. “Say that again, baby?”

Steve mumbles something unintelligible, then, “The elephant’s back.”

“Yeah? What’s it doing?”

The camera moves to focus on Steve’s face. He’s clearly still asleep, even as he frowns. “He’s proposing. ‘S my job.”

“Your job?”

“Mhm. ‘M gonna do it.” Another frown. “Screw you, elephant.”

The camera jumps to Eddie, who’s got a hand covering his mouth. The video cuts off again.

It picks up again later. Eddie’s in the same position as the first part of the video. There’s background sounds—rushing water and clanking porcelain—that means Steve’s washing dishes.

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

The clanking stops. The water shuts off. “What?”

Eddie shrugs. “You’ve been kinda tense ever since I got home.”

“Baby,” Steve whispers. “No. No, I’m not mad at you. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. I’ve just got a lot in my head right now.”

Eddie nods. “Can I help?”

Steve hums. “You can listen.”

Eddie smiles. “I can do that.”

“Okay, cool.” The water turns back on. “So I was talking to Robin earlier-”

The video cuts off again.

It picks up again later. They’re back on the couch, but this time Steve’s engrossed in a book, lips silently moving as he reads. “Baby.”

“Hm?”

“You mouth the words to yourself when you read.”

Steve flushes scarlet. “Shuddup.”

“No!” Eddie laughs. “No, I love it! It’s adorable!”

“You don’t.” He sniffs, but does nothing to hide the smile on his face. “It’s not.”

“It is,” Eddie argues back, camera jumping around as he shifts to sit up. “And I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Uh. That part I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out!”

“Mhm.” Steve’s lips twitch up at the corners.

“I’m serious.”

“Mhm.”

“I love every part of you.”

Steve’s smile softens into something lovesick. “I know.”

“Especially the parts you don’t like.”

Steve groans and covers his face with the book, and Eddie chuckles as he turns the camera off.

The last time it picks up, Steve’s the one setting it up. “Babe?” He calls.

“Yeah?”

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

“If you were a worm?”

“Yeah. Would you love me.”

Eddie walks into frame to grab Steve’s hands and hold them. “My darling,” he murmurs, “I fall more in love with you every day. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done and the easiest decision I’ll ever make. And I make it every day, I have for years now. If you were a worm, I’d build you the best little worm house. I’d do all the research and find out what you can eat, and I’d always have that. I’d learn to speak worm so I could talk to you.” He lifts one of Steve’s hands to his lips. “If you were a worm? Baby, I’d love you more than any worm’s ever been loved before.”

“Oh,” Steve squeaks.

Eddie presses a brief kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Why don’t you turn the camera off and come join me upstairs?”

Steve gapes even as he reaches for his phone. “You absolute asshole-”

“I meant every word, baby. Let me show you how much?”

Steve flounders, and the video cuts off for the last time.

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[wench-and-jezebel]

Stranger Things Reaction: The Weirdo on Maple Street

Wench (@scripted-downfall) reacts: A Flashback Series

See this link for context

Dustin, it’s not like all you did was clap; you kinda lunged at her.  She could be not-deaf, or she could be deaf and have eyes alkdsjf

Okay, look, I guess how people see this as “Oh, look, Mike’s so in-tune with her, he’s realizing she’s scared and cold and drenched and all.”  But.  Also.  Have you considered.  That he’s literally the caretaker of the group?  Steve is the overall babysitter/caretaker, eventually, of course, but, of the kids, Mike is the one who’s always anticipating people’s emotions.  He’s always ultra-aware of Will, sure, and El, but there are other examples.  I’ll start mentioning them when I see them.

Well, there’s one; the other two instantly turn around, but he stops her, points out the bathroom, etc.

Noticing a trend of compromise here; I remember the “compromise” and ���halfway happy” scene with Hopper in the later ep, and now there’s Mike going to close the door, Eleven stopping him, and him putting it cracked instead.  I don’t know what this says, but it says something.

Dustin being adorable alkdsjf

“Like Michael Myers”  Foreshadowingggg

DUSTIN.  WE KNOW SHE ALMOST TOOK OFF HER SHIRT.  CALM THY SELF, PLEASE  (but also you’re adorable)

“I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods.”  -Mike, s4.  Buddy, what do you mean???  You legit found her and went, “here’s how we can get out of having to worry about her and her potential backstory from the asylum, and then we go out again, and this time we find Will.”  WDYM YOUR LIFE STARTED WITH EL???  (Shhh.  Not me having spoilers from s4 or anything…)

Oh, look, the yellow phone returns

Ouch

Mike, you’re so subtle

I love the Mike-taunting-Nancy-with-innuendos thing here.  “What’s your test on again?  Human Anatomy”  aka the sibling “I know what you did and I’ll tell if you don’t hush.” 

Okay, but the fact that El's somehow managing to stay in someone's house without any adult ever noticing a;kdsfj;lkadjf

I’m sorry, but this is just… not how a romance would be shot.  Mike is concerned and caring, yeah, but not like a boyfriend, I’m sorry.

All the Upside-Down places being cool-colored, and all the party scenes being warm

WAIT THE JACKET JONATHAN’S WEARING.  I’VE SEEN THAT BEFORE.  YOU’VE SHOWN ME THAT SOMEWHERE BEFORE

The awkwardly hovering blurry figures over her shoulder

She still looks so different

I KNOW.  WAYNE’S WEARING IT.  WHEN HE’S PUTTING UP THE EDDIE POSTERS… not to push my Eddie-lives agenda, but.  I’ve heard about him and I don’t accept the Eddie-dies agenda, so.

Dustin.  Let.  The shirt thing. Go.

“Nice, right?  It’s a 22-inch.”  The contrast between then and now aldskjf

El getting to have some degree of fun with the chair is precious

Love this song.  Even before I watched this show, I loved it, but even more so now.

Jonathan, pushing against conformity for the sake of conformity since season 1 episode 2.

If this shopowner can afford giving her an advance, he sucks for not just giving it to her; if he can’t, I sympathize.  Idk how to feel, tbh.

Nooo, poor Mike. I understand, tho.  I, too, rant about my fixations until the other person walks off.  ‘Tis sad, every time

Mike and Will practically hugging in the photo though (photo post here)

Mike legit almost ran out in front of his mom with El right behind him; y’all ain’t inconspicuous

Um.  Just pointing out the symbolism of Mike suggesting hiding in the closet as a viable defense mechanism

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything.”  *thump*  “Is there someone else here?”  “Nope!”  That went well.

Poor El

Poor Joyce

I think I’m gonna write those four words a lot for this show

Poor Benny  (See?)

Um.  *Jonathan shoves Lonnie off him*  “You’ve gotten stronger”  SIR?!  I don’t like that insinuation.

Dustin is adorable.

Oop, spooky door slamming motion.  And nosebleed.

(I’m sorry, but I have to say… It’s a pet peeve of mine that the blood never changes from that same, one-centimeter drip out of her left nostril.  Like, it’s the stupidest thing, but it irks me.)

Lonnie, you’re an asshole.

Oh, he actually tried it: “Look, all I’m saying is, maybe I’m not the asshole, right?”  No, sorry, Lonnie, you’re definitely the asshole.  Many times over, in fact.

Dustin is the only one acting normal; he’s so cute

Y’all ain’t acting normal; it’s a wonder no one’s noticed

I’ve had Dustin’s “spasm” thing in my head ever since I first saw that episode.

Nancy being mean to Dustin again :(

Go Mr. Clarke, finding the clue

Dustin continues to be my beloved

Poor El

“A friend…”  “Is something you’d do anything for.”  “You lend them your cool stuff, like comic books and trading cards.”  These two answers are not equivalent, btw, and it’s very easy to tell which is Mike talking about Will and which is Dustin talking about Will.  *cough cough* Byler *cough cough*

Dustin and Lucas in the background were quality.

Barb deserves better

“Is that a new bra?”  “...No.”  Mmmhmmm

Who tf is this chick? Hopper had a gf?

Ma’am just wiped off their campaign map; how dare.  Better hope Mike had that written down

Also, how convenient of her to know which miniature was Will’s alkdsfj

Okay, I’m sorry… Look, I love, love, love the D&D stuff, okay.  But the fact that Dustin, Mike, and Lucas are all like oh my god she picked up the demogorgon is kinda ridiculous because it’s not like she knows what it means?  She just saw the mini and was like, ooh, scary thing, that works. (At least as far as we know)

Love the music

Steve, buddy, you are so awkward

Poor Barb

I could neverrrrrr.  I hate trying something new with an audience and then screwing it up, and this was such a doomed-to-fail situation, too

Poor Barbbbbb

Carol deserved getting shoved into the pool for that smirk, just btw.

Although, judging by how steamy that pool is, it doesn’t seem that cold, tbh

Jonathan being creepy

Will and yellowish phones again

FLICKER LIGHTS

Poor Joyce never has working technology

I still love this song

I was waiting for the bulb to burst but it didn’t… at least her tech isn’t not-working that badly

Also, the light-flickering-and-music-combo to show Will still trapped there/get her to go back in is so cool

“Well, you are cleaning the sheets”  The sad bit is, Steve’s parents probably wouldn’t even notice if they weren’t laundered at all

Poor.  Barb.

Steve’s room is so horrible.

“Some… privacy please?”  *he turns*  “Steve?”  *takes off shirt*  Ma’am wot.  (Yes, I know, the first might well have been a test to make sure he’d respect her boundaries, but still.  Ma’am.)

Poor Barbbbbb.

I will say, the photos Jonathan took, for all they’re creepy, are very pretty.

The image of the blood passing through the water was pretty

I love this song too… Hazy Shade of Winter?  Gold.

And that’s a wrap!

[somesaintiam]

"millipede will be endgame because mike said ily to el in s4🥰"

[teambyler]

Fans of Byler and Will Byers HAVE to watch "Don't Trust Hannah" react to Stranger Things. She ALWAYS adopts people who are mistreated and need protection and FIGHTS in their corner!

Watch her react to the Rain Fight scene! =D

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you��” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[will80sbyers]

look at my son, pride is not the word I'm looking for... there is so much more inside me now.

Oh, Will, you outshine the morning sun ☀️