#especially: is sitting in mike’s basement and playing games all the time a dream for the future or is it all left in the past?

[runninguplenorahills]

Joe Keery out here writing songs for Will Byers 🎼

#for the people who don’t know: chateau means castle #the line ‘help. something’s wrong with me. homesick for LA’ is very mike wheeler coded #I’ve been thinking about this for MONTHS now! #i tried to convince my sister to make a video edit but she doesn’t see the vision…… #and that’s sad because the vision is so genius #especially: is sitting in mike’s basement and playing games all the time a dream for the future or is it all left in the past? #byler #will byers #byler is endgame #mike wheeler #byler tumblr #castle byers

[numbaoneflaya]

I got a lot for you, you don't have to answer all of these 💀. 2, 4, 8, 21, 35, and 50 for Jilly. 3, 7, 10, 41, and 64 for Valkya. And 6, 7, 14, 25, and 52 for Mike. And a large fry 😁

I FINALLY DID ITTTTTT IM SORRY FOR THE WAIT!! all under the cut bcs ofc its LONG

JILLY

2. What are their favourite possessions? Why? (sentimentality, history, price, etc)

-She has 2 stuffed ferrets shes had since she was little :) she calls them stinker and slinker and she loves them so much. Also a collection of friendship bracelets she pretty much makes matching ones for everyone she likes and wears them in rotation.

4. Are they a good gift-giver? What do they tend to give as gifts? -Jilly LOVES gift giving bcs she naturally hoards and steals shit and then ends up with too much shit, so what better to do with it than give to friends?? You're likely to get anything she can swipe that reminds her of u. Tries to vary it to suit whoever shes giving a gift to but her go to is something like stuffed animals and jewelry bcs thats what she likes best

8. What does their dream house look like?

-She would like an at home gym with giant climbable pillars and hoops and obstacles, or just a house with a lot of land and forest she can run around in. She's also way a fan of hidden passages and secret hiding places, anything she can snoop and weasel around in. No scary basement tho

21. What’s their ideal date like?

-Carnival or theme park! Anything with lots of action and noise and prizes. Shed want to play all the games for hours straight and go on all the biggest rides.

36. Do they trust easily? What would you have to do to earn their trust?

-Yes she trusts easily :/ mayhaps too easily. Her way of thinking is innocent until proven guilty and even then, it takes a looooot to make her start to doubt someone because she wants to believe everyone has good intentions. To earn her trust, being nice to her and other ppl is the easiest way, but she's also prone to trust you if you seem secure somehow or just in charge like a position of authority.

50. Why would they be a good partner for a road trip?

-Snacks. On demand. She packs every snack and drink you could ever hope for and stashes up on blankets and pillows too. The type to wanna play my spy and car games and to sing along really loudly to music. WILL stick her head out the window sometimes. Will want to stop at every roadside attraction. Just for fun the reason she might be a bad roadtrip partner is that she talks a lot. And will be loudly singing and sticking her head out the window. And after a while the car will start to smell vaguely of ferret and she might shed.

--------

VALKYA

3. Do they get jealous easily? If so, what usually causes it?

-Shes really not a jealous person at all, especially not romantically. Shes pretty chill in general. Even so, some times she gets jealous of all the time other people get to spend with Naryu. If Valkya feels like someone else is being prioritized over her shes more likely to act out like a baby ggdghdf

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person?

-Women who could kill her and men who are pathetic, but shes open to anything. Has a thing for nerds, goths, vampires, werewolves, short people, assassins, and most importantly people who are easy to fluster. She will bone anything that moves

10. What’s a simple thing that brings them joy?

-Finishing a good book, especially a series. When shes not in life threatening danger or fucked up out of her mind shes a pretty avid reader. She likes having the free time to sit around a fireplace and snuggle up with a book, though she'll deny it if caught and say she doesnt know how to read hgfdgsd.

41. What would they dress up as for Halloween?

-Demetria 💀 shed just steal her clothes and stretch TF out of em gsdgdfhsd. Or dress up as herself bcs who needs originality when your famous?

64. Describe what their social media would be like.

- Random memes from the last century all mixed up, millions of selfies and nudes out of nowhere. Drunk posting at 4 am and getting into fights w Dem over dumb shit, subtweeting everyone to start drama. Has thousands of followers and does giveaways of shit she finds lying around her house for no reason but shes bored

-----------------

MIKE

6. Do they prefer to have a big social circle, or a few close friends?

-Shed prefer to have a few close friends as long as they ride or die. Most likely die tho. Shes desperate for frienship shell stalk someone to get to know them really well and then delude herself into thinking theyr besties. Sometimes it doesnt go well but she still gets a meal out of it even if shes sad

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person?

-Someone who looks like they're up for fun! Really into alt fashion and people who seem like they dont give a shit. Confidence, fighters, rebels, anyone she can party hard with. Likes people who are interesting and is especially interested in befriending other killers, they have so much to bond about!

14. Who do they go to in a crisis/emergency? Any particular reason why they choose that person?

-Probably Zeke tbh. Since she turned him hes like the only other vamp besides prim she knows and hes always pretty level headed. Probably goes to him for advice on how to make friends and hes like “maybe dont break into ppls houses and drain their victims out of nowhere :/” and shes like “that was ONE TIME and it worked!!”

25. What are their dreams like?

-All chaotic! Theres seldom ever a storyline or anything, just bright colors and random things happening and an overlying sense of panic or dread. Like those images you look at to understand what having a stroke is like, everything is off color and melting and shes usually running away from something. Typically nightmares but about nothing in particular, just disconnected sounds shapes and figures.

52. What topic should nobody bring up around them, lest the other person be subject to a massive ramble/rant?

-ANYTHING to do with twilight. She knows everything about it. Has seen and read is 12 times over and can quote it directly at any time, do not attempt to argue twilight with her. Diehard team Edward forever. If your tied up and somehow the topic of it comes up just pray she kills you soon bcs she will go on for hours and bring out her annotated copies and force you to go through them with her.

#THANK U BELOVED. THIS IS A MONSTER POST #jilly #valkya #ocs #mike

[kaypeace21]

The Duffers use of music proves byler is endgame (music-analysis)

The Duffers in an interview said that they choose songs for the show very deliberately -sometimes spending weeks on Spotify to find just the right song to convey an emotion/context of a scene. Songs in all seasons (but especially in s3) were used to show how characters are feeling- or just an action they’re about to commit.

For instance, Karen when she’s about to meet Billy at the motel-  feels apprehensive and wants to get out of it (since it would hurt her family) and she was just flirting with Billy as a way to escape her own issues, about her life. She never flirted with Billy for the end-goal of “getting him.”

They even use “cat’s in the cradle’ which could be shown as a way to illustrate the inappropriate age disparity between Billy/Karen.

Other examples-

Right before the boys run away from the lingerie store- the lyrics are literally “I just walk away” XD

Jim when he looks at Joyce- the lyrics are “she’s got you.” ( cause he’s in love with her).

-And Jim after getting Mike to not come over to see El, (by yelling at him) sings…

Joyce after she sees Bob’s drawing fall to the ground and then crouches to pick it up.

And songs also illustrates how Nancy feels about her job (with her sexist co-workers). As the morose lyrics of “I’ll be working here forever” play as it zooms in on Hawkins post -as Nancy rushes inside.

As well as  her excitement -about investigating a new case. As Jancy leaves and the very on the nose song  of “get up and go” begins -as they get into the car.

Billy when he pulls out chloroform (from a perfume bottle).

El after dumping Mike (and smiling about it) XD

So all the byler stuff I’m about to mention proves byler is endgame.

So yes, the fact that the very first lyrics that play when we see mileven kiss for the first time  is “Just a little uncertainty can bring you down”- reflects that (just like the others, the song reflects Mike’s true feelings). The song is from the album “boy in the box (cough closet)”.

And we know this is how Mike (not El) feels about their relationship because he begins to sing the song right after this lyric. It mirrors how when Will danced with a girl (who owned a rainbow hair clip) the lyrics were “every smile you fake.”

Mike continues “And nobody wants to know you now. And nobody wants to show you how.So if you’re lost and on your own. You can never surrender.” He fears that if he isn’t straight everyone he cares about will abandon him, and that he’d be lost and the only one ‘like this’ -all alone.But he can’t ‘surrender’ the false-idea of being in love with El (out of fear).  El even says to “stop” and tries to cover his mouth to prevent him from singing and Mike asks “What you don’t like it?” and El just says “No!”.

Which may be a purposeful juxtaposition to how Robin came out- and instead both Robin and Steve sang off-tune happily together- while El covers Mike’s mouth and tells him to stop singing. When Mileven kiss at the end of the season the song ‘the first i love you’ plays. The same song that plays when Robin comes out to steve (to illustrate the juxtaposition).

What’s interesting is ( right before the mileven kiss) we see a zoom in shot of a picture of Will and a rainbow . Like that’s Will! He has light brown hair (not black) and Will is the only one associated with fire and has drawn himself with fire in the past.

And since El has Mike related-stuff all over her room, and barely knows Will. Mike probably lied saying it was supposed to be him- which is why it’s above her bed.And we also see that based on it’s placement Mike is facing the Will drawing so he can see it  (cause we see El in front of the poster and Mike sitting opposite of her during the 1st kiss) . 

And during this transition the lyrics read “cause just a little more time could open closing doors” Which could be hinting at byler becoming a thing later - when (after some ‘time’) they both become ready to actually admit their feelings/sexuality - despite the other probably doubting the other has feelings for them.

I mean we even see an illustration of Will & the text of the name ‘Mike’ written out next to a rainbow-heart. And 2 other drawings next to the rainbow heart drawing (that are covered in red hearts). XD

(*for those who can’t see Mike written out in the transitioned will/mike pic)

However, what’s interesting though is the one other things he took down from his wall. In S1 Mike (before he even met El)  has a heart sign, with a red heart being propelled by a rainbow. Then in s3 it's gone from his wall when he dates El (cause he's trying to repress the fact he's gay). Why El has a drawing that says Mike (with a heart also propelled by a rainbow.) He can't use El to escape the truth. His rainbow follows him everywhere even when he tries to hide it (from his basement wall and himself) -  and when kissing El!Aka he tries to take it down (like he pretends to be straight). However, in the first ep of s3 when Mike is making-out with El (trying to project his feelings for Will on to her by looking at the Will drawing while kissing) we see a emergence of the heart being propelled by a rainbow (in El’s room) as a drawing.  signifying Mike participating in compulsory-heterosexuality,  and the fact no matter how hard he tries- he’s not straight!

Also El’s reaction to the song - hints that this isn’t actually her mixtape. But one that Mike made for her. or Will made for Mike (since jon makes mixtapes and prob taught him how- Will in s3 gave a mixtape to Dustin so it would not surprise me if he gave one to Mike).

So similar to the drawing, the mixtape hints at byler’s feelings

  ‘I can’t fight this feeling’ (which mileven makes out to later). Actually indicates Mike fighting his feelings for Will. And how he’s been trying to fight his feelings for Will, all season.

Besides the lyrics themselves- the singer literally went on record about the song’s meaning . Which is about a boy being in love/pinning over his friend of many years and never thinking he had a chance at being with them (and being afraid he’d ruin the relationship if he confessed)- but slowly thinking he could  be with them (and that they might feel the same way about him) . And in the song the 2 people AREN’T even together yet!

“Oh, I can’t fight this feeling any longer. And yet I’m still afraid to let it flow. What started out this friendship has grown stronger, I only wish I had the strength to let it show. I tell myself that I can’t hold out forever .I said there is no reason for my fear ‘Cause I feel so secure when we’re together ‘.You give my life direction. You make everything so clear. And even as I wander I’m keeping you in sight. You’re a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter’s night. And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might”

This makes no sense for mileven who kissed after knowing each other for a week and who didn’t have a long established friendship, beforehand. And who also are already together (and not afraid to express their ‘romantic feelings’ for each other).

Then in s2, mileven dance to ‘every breath you take’ a break up song about a stalker ex. The writer of the song also has said many times “it’s NOT a love song.” The duffers obviously knew that. Lumax also danced to it and Lucas was called a ‘stalker’. El also stalked Mike in s2 (all that stuff milevens found romantic- El watching him without him knowing. Mike says he was not ok with it in s3). And in s3 he said not to do that and she just says ‘i make my own rules’. Not to mention Nancy teaching Dustin how to dance is a direct parallel to Mike teaching El. 

Mike also tries to act like Dustin, and  forces Will to dance with a girl (who’s wearing a rainbow hair clip). Trying to be a good sport like Dustin is about lumax. And right after this we see Dustin look sad about Max/Lucas dancing and Mike (next to Dustin) look sadly at Will/girl dancing in the same exact frame as Max/Lucas. As they switch between these 2 shots to emphasize their sadness/jealousy.Then they both sit down (mirroring each other) on the verge of tears before Nancy and El show up to comfort them and distract them.  As El once again (presumably) wears Nancy dress. Mike “you cant go with your sister… i mean you can but it’d be really weird.”

Also in regards to Will- when I heard they were going to have the song ‘Never ending story’ I wondered if they were going to re-contextualize one line in particular to be a hint at Will’s queerness. And shock- they did it! XD

The lyric is “ Rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds and there upon a rainbow Is the answer to a never ending story. ”

And of course Will is the one with a secret- that is ‘rainbow’ related. And they pan to him during the “secrets” line. I think Will is less in the denial phase than Mike is and already knows he’s gay and in love with him.

And this wasn’t a coincidence because when Lumax makes fun of Dustin they sing the lyrics incorrectly as  “The mirror of your dreams. Rhymes that keep their secrets…” And it pans to Will AGAIN!

We see Will obscured in shadows to represent he’s “hiding”.

And then he appears in the light, looking sadly at D&D as the lyrics , “rhymes that keep their secrets” is sang (again).

And we see he’s specifically looking at the d&d game sadly and about to give it away- since they zoom in on the game title (before he places it in the “donation” box). 

Because the d&d game is used to reflect his desires (like a “mirror”) . It’s the ‘mirror of his dreams’- to be with Mike. Cue Mike saying “ what did you think,really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?” And poor Will  just responding with “Yeah, I guess I did. I really did.”

This lyric about the mirror is NOT in the original song. It was used once again to establish D&D as a romantic symbol for byler. Just like how they zoomed in on d&d right before the romantic “crazy together” speech.

Mike in s3 says “Blank makes you crazy… y’know like the word (love).” Flo in s1 says “ Only love makes you that crazy and that stupid.” Cue Will calling himself “stupid” 4 times (after Mike says they won’t be together playing games for the rest of their lives-and ripping up the Halloween pic , out of heart-break).

(x)

So again right after we see the zoom-in of the game (another romantically coded scene happens after). Will puts the game in the ‘donation’ pile - and Mike isn’t happy about it.

Mike: “WHOA, dude, that’s the donation box.”

Will: “ I know, I’ll just use yours,  when I come back. (pause) if WE still want to play?”

( translation: “I love and want to be with you but I’m not going to pursue you and get my heart broken again. Because even if I feel like you love me… I can’t trust my own instincts about how you truly feel anymore. If you want to play this ‘game of love’  with me you have to initiate/participate in the game properly.” Mike when fixated on El even says it was a cool campaign but  “we just weren’t in the mood right now.” and  also says to Will “c’mon, let’s play for real”  but Will storms off (not thinking that what Mike said was genuine).  

Mike : “Yeah, but what if you want to join another party?”

(*cough, the other ‘species’/girls, or just someone else: girl, guy or otherwise)

Will: “Not possible.”

(Will will always love Mike, and  admits he wants to be with him for the rest of his life).

(x)

And we actually see the Hopper’s Monologue (where Mike is shown)- reflects what Mike said to Will earlier. Mike does want to love Will but he’s just scared of changing their relationship into something romantic- and even though a part of him doesn’t want things to change, he’s still afraid that Will will move on from him as they both get older. “I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like you’re pulling away from me or something” (Will does this both figuratively/literally). I miss playing board games every night (d &d)”. “But I know you’re getting older, growing, changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change.”

Also the lyric “ Rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds and there upon a rainbow- is the answer to a never ending story. ”

One way or another Will’s secret (of being queer and/or being in love with Mike) will eventually come out. And that’s the answer to this “never ending story” between Will & Mike. Their love story. I mean who else is associated with Will’s story and has loads of rainbow symbolism - and has rainbow symbolism that  specifically connects them to Will?

*Lol don’t even get me started  on analyzing how in s1 when Mike thinks Will is dead- Mike hugs his mom and the lyrics are “and we kiss as though nothing could fall. And the shame.” Which is queer coded and written by David Bowie- and during the s2 “freak” speech- Will even says he’d rather be friends with Bowie than Kenny Roggers.

People need to realize no one is a bigger shipper of byler- than the Duffer brothers themselves! XD

#byler #byeler

[state-of-longing]

never surrender

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Mileven

Additional Tags: Set between S2 & S3, summer of love > summer of sadness, mike wheeler is not great at shopping

Words: 1,510

Summary: Mike buys El some cassette tapes. The kind that are perfect to kiss to.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

As Mike Wheeler biked hurriedly over to Starcourt Mall that morning he had exactly $10 burning a hole in his pocket. Five of those dollars were from his overly trusting mom who insisted he buy himself new socks, due to a relentless growth spurt. Two of those dollars were leftover change from his last week of school lunch money. The last three were from poorly mowing the front lawn for the Thompsons who lived three houses down.

With this money, he had one mission and one mission only. He parked his bike, ran through the crowded food court and made his way up the escalator. There was a selection of cassette tapes on sale at Sam Goody’s and you could buy 2 for $10. It couldn’t be more perfect.

Ever since the Snow Ball and he had more time with El he had been thinking about making her a mixtape. He would grab a couple of tapes from Radio Shack and record songs from the local music stations. But what he didn’t factor was the amount of time and effort that took and in the end it just meant he had less time to spend with her. Less time with his girlfriend was not the ideal.

The tapes weren’t just a romantic gesture or present either. They really needed these tapes. When El was finally allowed out of the cabin for the summer, they had begrudgingly agreed to not hang out alone in the Wheeler’s basement. Instead, if they weren’t outside with the Party they were allowed in Hopper’s cabin but only when the Chief himself was there to supervise.

Considering Mike had waited 353 days for El to come back to him and then waited for his middle school career to finally end, he agreed to any deal that meant he got to spend time with her. Even if the chief of police was breathing down their necks. They were just happy to be in each other’s presence and didn’t care what that meant.

That feeling of contentment vanished quickly a few hours into the first day of summer.

They thought they’d be able to spend their time together playing board games and watching TV. Mike made a list of all the movies he wanted to show her and books he wanted to read to her. He even thought up a mini D&D adventure that they could play together so he could teach her the rules.

As soon as they sat down to the first movie they immediately became restless. Suddenly they had all this time together, an entire summers worth of time and all those plans felt stupid. Mike and El quickly realised all they wanted to do was hold hands, whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears and kiss. Like, they wanted to kiss all the time. Kissing suddenly became Mike’s favourite thing to do. It was better than any D&D campaign, R-rated horror movie or Atari game out there. He couldn’t think about anything else.

And who could blame him? El was without a doubt the prettiest girl he had ever met. She was way prettier than any of the girls who go to his school. Her hair was now down to her shoulders and was curly with light honey streaks shining through it. She had these big brown eyes that were framed by dark lashes and he wasn’t sure if she was aware of the power she had when she fluttered them in his direction. And then her lips…

Let���s just say that physics couldn’t even explain the gravitational pull Mike had to those.

So after the longest afternoon in history, where he and El were forced to watch TV with Hopper sitting behind them at the dining table, they asked if they could hang out in El’s room. The discreet hand holding just wasn’t going to cut it and El could only concoct so many telekinetic ‘accidents’ for Hopper to leave the room and they could sneak in a kiss.

Mike was convinced that Hopper would throw a fit and say no. He already knew that he pissed the man off. They’d spent the last six months finding any excuse to see each other or call each other on the phone. But what Mike underestimated was how Jim Hopper was putty in El’s hands. He felt so guilty about keeping them apart the year prior that he was willing to give that girl nearly anything she wanted. She just needed to flutter those eyelashes.

‘Fine. But here’s your number one rule: the door stays open 3 inches at all times. You got that? At all times.’

Mike had blushed furiously, knowing what Hopper was implying about what would happen if the door was closed. El, however, was perfectly oblivious and immediately dragged him to her bedroom and closed the door behind them with a wave of her hand. Hopper had stomped over and adjusted the gap wider.

They couldn’t believe it. Mike barely had time to process their newfound freedom when El pulled him to sit down on the mattress. This was it. The dream of every teenage boy. He was alone, in his girlfriend’s bedroom and she was smiling at him like he was some sort of teen idol you find in Teen Beat magazine. If he didn’t kiss her right then he was going to explode.

But as soon as their lips met they realised they’d forgotten to factor in one important thing. Kissing was loud. At least, the way Mike and El kissed. He winced once their lips parted, quickly checking the door for any sign Hopper had heard and was pulling out his gun. The silence throughout the cabin was a stark reminder that Jim Hopper was everywhere and if you were even thinking about touching his daughter he was one step ahead of you. Every movement, every creak of the floorboard, every rustling of Hopper’s chip packets and beer cans destroyed any mood Mike set out to establish.

That night El begged the Chief to buy her a cassette player and Mike offered to buy her tapes to play.

So here Mike was, multiple Sam Goody sales bins in front of him and $10 in the pocket of his denim vest. He had no idea where to start. He didn’t really listen to the radio much, his walkman was collecting dust and even though his dad had a big record collection he barely listened to it. He wanted to buy something El would like but would also be perfect to kiss her to. He didn’t want to buy something that would ruin the mood because it had embarrassing lyrics.

‘Can I help you?’

A voice broke through his thoughts and Mike turned to find a sales assistant, an older woman with eyes framed by blue eyeshadow looking at him expectantly. Perhaps he could use some help.

‘Uh…I’d like to buy some tapes.’

‘Well, you’re in the right place, honey.’

Mike could only nod, already feeling awkward enough about the situation. He had exactly one hour until Hopper was home from work and if he biked fast enough he could have a few minutes of alone time with El before the Chief’s Chevy Blazer pulled in out front.

‘So…do you have a favourite artist?’

‘Oh..um I don’t listen to a lot of music.’

‘Okay…’ He could tell the sales assistant was exasperated with him already.

‘Uh…I guess I like that band with the two guys. Hall and Grain…or something.’

‘You mean Hall & Oates?’ The woman barely contained her laughter and Mike could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

‘Yeah sure. Anyway, I’m looking for something a bit…’ He could barely stutter it out. Thank god the other guys weren’t here to make fun of him. He’d never hear the end of it, especially from Lucas.

’Romantic.’ He said it so softly that the woman had to lean in to hear him. An amused grin took over her face. The kind you get from adults who don’t take you seriously. Mike hated that look. When it came to El he was nothing but serious.

‘Romantic, huh? For your girlfriend?’

‘Uh just looking for something she would enjoy.’

‘Want to set a mood, huh?’

‘Something like that.’ If a giant Kraken was to break open the ceiling of this mall and devour them whole he would welcome it. Really.

‘I think I know just the thing. You want some love ballads but nothing your ma would listen to.’

‘Definitely not.’ Mike shuddered thinking of Karen Wheeler’s Barbra Streisand collection. The ultimate mood killer.

‘Hold tight sweetheart, I’ve got you and your girl covered.’

Mike left Starcourt Mall with two tapes and biked over to the cabin as fast as his legs would go. He had no idea who Corey Hart and Bryan Adams were but the smile on El’s face when she pressed play on her stereo made them the greatest musicians to ever live in his eyes. Even better than those Hall & Oatmeal guys.

#shoutout to hall and oatmeal #mike wheeler #mike heart eyes wheeler #mileven #chief jim hopper #i needed to write this #stranger things #just let my babies be happy #My writing #fanfic

[bubble-tea-bunny]

if the sky could dream 

[mike wheeler x reader]

author’s note: been wanting to write this but just didn’t know how to go about it, kinda happy w/ how it turned out tho. i love writing the boys so much, they’re the perfect practice for writing a conversation involving multiple people 

word count: 1,671

It’s not exactly like he can control the way his heart practically stops the moment he hears your laughter floating down into the basement.

It’s jarring, but not unpleasantly so. The battle at hand is pushed to the side as Mike looks away from the map on the table and towards the stairs leading up to the first floor. The door is open and he can hear two people’s voices, but the only one he’s focusing on is yours. He’s stopped paying attention to the campaign, but the others only notice when it’s his turn to roll.

“Uh, hello? Earth to Mike?” Lucas waves his hand in front of Mike’s face in an effort to grab his attention.

“Huh?” Mike blinks and looks over at Lucas, whose expression is unamused. “What?”

“This isn’t the time to get distracted! In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve lost to Caligari two times already and now is our chance to beat him!”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” Mike mumbles, returning his attention to the map. Atop the piece of paper rests three small figures, one for each party member: him, Will, and Lucas. Dustin sits across the table with a screen to hide all of his information as dungeon master, and he’s narrating the newest portion of their campaign—their third (and hopefully final) fight against Caligari, a minotaur that fights with a giant ax. Each battle with this boss has nearly resulted in a game over, but they’d pulled through, and Will commented that this was a sign that they were destined to stop Caligari, no matter how long it took.

“Give him a break,” Dustin remarks with a smile, breaking character for a moment. Just several seconds ago he’d spoken with urgency, describing the intense scene to the party members and the immense power of Caligari and how they might actually meet their end here if they don’t watch themselves carefully. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t act the same way if your crush was nearby.”

“I don’t have a crush,” Mike rushes out, but he doesn’t meet Dustin’s eyes. This isn’t the first time he’s had to say that.

Will laughs. “Sure. So why’s your face red?”

“It’s just… warm in here.”

The others respond with something to the effect of “Oh yeah of course" but it’s clear they don’t believe him. And Mike isn’t surprised. It hadn’t been a very good reason. At this point, he doesn’t know why he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t have a crush. They’d figured it out almost right away and no amount of excuses could get them to think otherwise because they see how Mike reacts when he so much as hears you and that’s not the kind of shit you can hide. No, sir. Breaking his immersion in the midst of a very important Dungeons and Dragons boss battle is quite the feat, especially if it’s one as high stakes as this. Mike supposes, then, that he’s doing it to save face. What face there is left to save anyway. The teasing has been unrelenting since they realized how hopelessly infatuated he was with Nancy’s best friend.

“Are you gonna go say hi?” Lucas questions, small smirk on his face. Dustin and Will are stifling giggles to no avail.

Mike takes a deep breath, willing the heat in his cheeks to go away as he looks down at his character sheet. “No. It’s my turn to roll isn’t it?” He holds his hand out and Lucas gives him the various-sided dice.

Luckily that remains the extend of their teasing for the rest of the evening they hang out. The campaign keeps them distracted, and Mike can no longer hear you; you must’ve gone upstairs to Nancy’s room. The party ends up defeating Caligari once and for all, an accomplishment resulting in loud cheers that surely reached the main part of the house. By the time they call it quits for the night, they’ve since arrived in a new town with more people to interact with and more quests to embark on. Mike walks the other three to the front door.

“I can’t believe we finally got him,” Lucas remarks. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he thinks back to the moment.

“If it weren’t for that high roll you got, we would’ve died for sure this time,” Will says.

“Okay, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to defeat him,” Dustin pipes up. “I purposely made him really, really difficult.”

“We noticed.” Mike deadpans, but then he laughs. “But now he’s gone and that’s all that matters.”

Lucas, Will, and Dustin left their bikes on the front lawn and Mike stands on the driveway as they grab them. Before the three of them take off, Dustin turns back to Mike. “Say hi to [Name] for me.”

Mike groans. “Shut up.”

Dustin’s laugh seems to echo in the night as they start maneuvering their bikes down the driveway and onto the street.

“See you tomorrow, Mike!” Will yells. Lucas throws up a hand to wave, and Mike returns the gesture. As he starts his walk back inside, he exhales, and his breath materializes in front of him. The nights are getting chillier and chillier. The snowfall will be here before they know it.

Mike closes the door and turns around just in time to see you come down the staircase. He’s frozen right where he is. It’s like his body’s forgotten how to work.

“Oh, hey, Mike!” you greet, a bright smile on your face. You get to the bottom but don’t move, hand resting on the bannister. “I didn’t see you when I got here.”

“I was in the basement with my friends,” Mike explains, trying to put on a relaxed smile (it probably looks more like a cringe).

You hum and nod. “That’s right. Playing that game of yours. What was it called again?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I always thought that name was so cool.” The smile is still on your face. Mike’s confident you can tell how nervous he is and he wonders if you know about his crush. Well, you have to by now. He’s not exactly good at hiding it, and even if he might not see you much in the daytime, since you’re at Hawkins High School, you’re always at the house sleeping over. Given the time and the fact you’re still here, that’s the case again tonight. “Anyway, I was just down here to grab a glass of water. Your sister and I have been gossiping and all that talking’s made my throat dry.” You laugh quietly as you head into the kitchen.

Mike trails in after you. “This whole time? There’s that much to talk about?”

It’s silent for a second as you gulp down some water. “Oh yeah. High school is…” you trail off, trying to find the right word, but shrug when you can’t find it. “It’s something. But it’s definitely not as exciting as slaying dragons.” You grin at Mike before refilling your glass.

“There are all sorts of monsters to kill in the game actually,” Mike explains.

“Really?” You’re genuinely curious. It shows in your eyes. As the two of you slowly ascend the staircase, Mike is rattling off information about the role-play game. Just the most basic stuff that could be explained quickly. Even when you two get to the second floor, you remain standing in the hallway. He mentions that he and his friends defeated Caligari tonight, and so if you’d heard shouting, that was why. You laugh and tell him you do remember hearing cheering from Nancy’s room.

“Well, should you ever come across an evil dragon, kill it for me, okay?” You smile.

Mike smiles back, one much more comfortable than the one earlier when you caught him by surprise after he’d said goodbye to the others. It’s strange. He always feels so nervous at the prospect of talking to you, and whenever he thinks about it, his hands get clammy and his heart starts to race. But then he does talk to you and it’s so easy. You’re incredibly nice, clearly wanting him to be able to talk to you like you’re any other person. You want him to be relaxed around you (since you’re at the Wheeler house all the time it seems). But you’re not just “any other person,” not to Mike anyway. And maybe you knew that. Maybe you didn’t. He just knows that out of all the people Nancy could’ve been best friends with, he’s glad it was you. “Okay.”

It happens so quickly that Mike thinks maybe he’s imagined it, but the residual warmth of your lips on his cheek is all too real. His eyes are wide as he looks at you and your smile that has only grown. “For good luck,” you explain offhandedly, as if it’s no big deal, but there’s mischief dancing across your face, and Mike blushes heavily.

“Yeah… For good luck.” He smiles sheepishly, nodding when you tell him you’re heading back to Nancy’s room now, as she’s probably wondering where you’ve been this whole time. When you open the door to his sister’s room, he hears her speak up—“How long does it take to get a glass of water?”—and then your laughter before the door closes behind you, and he’s alone in the hallway.

You knew. You definitely knew. And Mike knows he will never hear the end of it from the others. As he enters his room, he absentmindedly brings a hand up to his cheek, to the spot where you’d kissed him. Dustin did mention an abandoned castle on the outskirts of the town the party had arrived at in-game. Maybe there would be a dragon in there guarding a princess they needed to go save.

(When they reconvene a couple of nights later to resume the campaign, this turns out to be the case. And because Dustin is, well, Dustin, the princess bears a striking resemblance to you.)

#mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler imagine #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard imagine #stranger things imagine #mike wheeler #finn wolfhard #stranger things #bubble-tea-bunny

[willel]

Eye to Eye | Will & Eleven | Thematic Twins

Description: A Will and Eleven sibling like fic. You guys, they have so much in common. I’ll be sad if we don’t have a meaningful meeting between these two. They are just…. My babies.

Putting all of my precious Will & El content on this brand new blog. Here is the  first chapter of the fic I’m writing~

Original text:  THIS post by @willthewisest finally pushed me to do my own thing. 

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887760

--------------------------------------

“Mom mom, I’ll be fine.” Will stressed. Although he and his mother were the same height now, he felt shorter again while sitting on his brand new bike. His old one had gone unused for so long, the chain rusted out. It was more affordable to just buy a new one. A new one that he pledged to start riding every day just like he used to.

“I know I know, but… “ Joyce held her arms nervously glancing from side to side. Nearly two years had passed since her son went missing, lost in the Upside Down. Five months passed since the Upside Down came back to take him again. She knew she should relax and give him more space. More freedom. She knew she needed to let him grow up and be independent but… it was hard. Very hard. Even Jonathan behind her was nervous, but he hid it better.

“I went to Mike’s house yesterday and it was ok, right?” Will explained. He was in no rush to go to Mike’s house, so he spent the extra time reassuring his mom that everything would be ok. For her sake. And for Jonathan’s sake. And, his own sake really. He’d be lying if he pretended not to constantly be eyeing his surroundings like a madman, flinching at the smallest rustle or chirp from yards or the forest surrounding the road to his house.

He was a high school student now. The past is the past. He wanted to move on and be “normal” again. Not completely normal of course. That was a pipe dream. And there was nothing wrong with being a freak, as Jonathan put it. At the very least, he wanted to ride his bike with his friends again. Go out and come back when he pleased. Jonathan and his mom weren’t always around to drive him wherever. It stressed them all out.

“If you feel nervous or scared at all, AT ALL, you can come back home ok? We’ll still be here. Or if you need us to pick you up, you can call us from-”

“I know mom. I’ll call you as soon as I get there and as soon as I decide to come back. Ok?”

Joyce tried to relax. “Alright baby.” Jonathan stepped forward and rubbed her shoulder. “Have fun.”

Will nodded… but didn’t attempt to leave. He stared blankly at Joyce and Jonathan with the smallest twitch of a nervous smile. He almost looked frozen.

“... Will? You sure you’re ready?” Jonathan asked. He and Will were similar. Jonathan would rather keep his feelings to himself to spare everyone else the worry. It worked pretty well for him. People rarely knew what he was feeling, for better or for worse. The only one who could pick him apart in seconds was his mother… but Nancy wasn’t far behind nowadays.

Will wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings. On the inside, Will was just as nervous as their mother. Another moment passed before Will took a deep breath and shook his head, finally lifting his feet off the ground to peddle away.

“See you later!” Will called after he reached a good distance down their driveway.

In the grand scheme of things, Mike’s house wasn’t that far. Nowhere was far in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a blessing and a curse. He could ride anywhere on his bike and arrive in a short amount of time. That also meant it was much harder to find a place to hide since a pursuer didn’t have many areas to search. He learned that first hand.

Will shook his head and frowned. He did his best to ignore the intrusive memories and survival instincts he developed from his time in the upside down. He didn’t realize how bad the thoughts were until he started considering going out on his own again without his friends or family.He didn’t argue about his mom or brother picking him up and dropping him off at school or the arcade or wherever else he wanted to go for the longest time. He didn’t want to be alone. It was… scary.

He was scared. His sweaty palms and goosebumps riding up his neck was the undeniable evidence. He gripped his handlebars tighter and increased the speed of his peddling. Maybe if he peddled fast enough, he could escape the chill running up his spine.

‘Nothing is out there.’ Will insisted as he took a deep breath. ‘Nothing. Nothing is there.’ He repeated. If you tell yourself something enough times, surely it would come true, right?

Will focused on the street in front of him, refusing to scan the forests and yards until he reached Mike’s house. Relief washed over him when the house finally came into view. He wasted no time parking his bike in Mike’s garage and rushing to the front door. The sooner he got inside the better.

Will barely had time to ring the doorbell before the door swung open. Mike blinked and seemed relieved. He must’ve been nervous too.

“Good, you’re finally here.” Mike stepped aside, letting Will inside.

“Finally?” Will glanced at his watch. He got there in record time, especially since he didn’t make any stops along the way. “It didn’t take me that long,”

“Yeah, but your mom has already called twice looking for you.” Will and Mike walked to the kitchen as Will released an embarrassed chuckle. “Here.” Mike push the phone to Will, knowing that he’d need to call Joyce or she would just call herself again.

Will sighed. As he dialed his house, briefly wondered how many times he sighed that day and if it would become annoying for others. He needed to rein that in. If his mother noticed, she might realize something is wrong or make assumptions at least. He remembered when she first discovered he was having visions of the Upside Down after he returned. It happened in the middle of the day and startled him so bad he started screaming. She was right there, and there was no way to hide the visions after that.

“Will?? Will is that you? Can you hear me?” He blinked. He completely forgot that he dialed his mother and that she was nervously waiting on the other end.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. Sorry. I made it to Mike’s house.”

“Are you alright…?” As always, she sounded so concerned and worried. Will absently wondered if she would ever become “normal” again too or if her anxiety would continue to chip away at her now all thanks to him.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Really. I’ll call you again when I leave, ok?” He tried to sound as reassuring and confident as possible to put her at ease.

“Remember don’t leave too late. Come back before it gets dark. If it’s too dark, CALL me ask for a ride, ok?”

“Ok, mom.”

“Have fun sweetie.” She finished. Will hung up the phone and glanced at Mike. He stood at the counter preparing snack dishes and drinks. Normally Mike’s mother would make their snacks, but Mike’s parents were out tonight and Nancy was babysitting Holly upstairs.

“You can go downstairs without me,” Mike explained without looking over. “Dustin and Lucas aren’t here yet.”

“What are we doing tonight anyway. Are we doing the campaign today, or playing a game?” Will removed his coat and placed it on a chair nearby.

“Probably both.” Mike shrugged. “You can set up down there if you want to. El wouldn’t know how.” Will blinked in surprise.

“El is here?”

Mike turned and frowned, but then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, that’s right. You left early the other day… El is visiting for the first time. And, not for the last time.” A slight grin spread across his lips. Not very surprising, Will thought. Mike was quite enamored with her. Will smiled too.

“It’s finally safe?”

“Yep. At least, it is for now. Hopper dropped her off not too long ago and she can stay for a few hours.”

Will nodded, and turned to head down to the basement.

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?” Will stopped just short of the basement stairs and turned back. Mike looked… concerned. “What is it?”

“Act natural. It’ll be fine.” Mike gave a reassuring nod then turned back to the snacks on the counter, pouring more chips into a bowl.

Will looked down into the basement from the top of the stairs, pausing his descent. He hadn’t realized it before but… he hardly spoke to Eleven face to face. This would be the first time they truly hung out. Will slowly came down the stairs and scanned the room as more of the room came into view.

Eleven lay on the couch, quietly tinkering with Mike’s Millennium Falcon. When a stair creaked beneath his foot, Eleven glanced over. Her eyes widened the slightest bit as she sat up and put the toy aside. Will stopped when their eyes met.

Will and El weren’t exactly strangers. El wasn’t allowed to come out very often, but that didn’t stop her from communicating with them. Every day after school they contacted El on the AV club radio. Mike even bought a new more powerful radio for his basement to communicate with her whenever. He did all kinds of chores and mowed lawns with Lucas until he had enough to buy the radio himself. A far cry from stealing money from Nancy.

Talking on a radio didn’t compare to meeting El face to face, but Will felt like he knew her well enough even though he wasn’t the one having many conversations with her. Afterall, they had a different kind of connection. A special one.

“Hi, El.” Will said, completing his descent down the stairs.

“Hi Will.” She replied. Will came to sit next to her. He leaned deep into the couch, completely forgetting about setting up for the campaign or the games they were going to be playing.

Neither of them said anything else. The room was quiet, but not awkwardly so. It was strangely comforting. El glanced over at Will, and in return, he glanced over at her. It was the first time they got a good look at each other.

The first two times El met him, he was worse for ware. Pale, sickly, and barely conscious or not conscious at all. It was hard to reach him in the Upside Down. It was hard to reach him when the Mind Flayer took possession of him in every way imaginable, so much so, there was little of him left at all. El reached out and poked his cheek. It startled him at first because it was so sudden. He gave a closed smile, but let her poke as she wanted. She smiled too. She backed away looking satisfied about something. Will could only guess what exactly.

“How are you?” He asked.

“Good.” El nodded. A comfortable silence enveloped them again. “... And you? How are you?” Will turned away and paused.

“Good.” Will nodded, mimicking her as he rubbed his hands together. Will started when El’s hand clamped over his. El was very expressive with her face, and she looked unconvinced.

A small feeling of annoyance flashed through him. He understood everyone’s concern for him, but he didn’t want to be babied. He biked here by himself after all. It kinda freaked him out, but he made it. He pushed through. As quickly as the annoyance came, it faded away and turned into something else. She knew. She knew something. Some of his secrets. Now that they were face to face, secrets were hard to keep. Now he was feeling nervous.

Will sighed once again and El tiled her head quizzically. Will released his tight grip on his own hands and gently grasped hers. Her hand felt familiar for some reason.

“Can you… promise not to tell?” Will glanced towards the stairs. Mike still seemed distracted upstairs and Dustin and Lucas were running late. “I… don’t want to tell the others. Not yet.”

“Promise.” El nearly interrupted him before he could finish. Their met eyes. Will turned to face her and she did the same.

“I don’t know how much you know since we haven’t talked much but… I’ll try to explain.” Will spoke quietly so his voice wouldn’t carry upstairs. “Last year… well… ever since I got stuck in the Upside Down and came back… I used to have these visions of the Upside Down. ‘Truesight’. I could see into the Upside Down even if I didn’t want to… it’s how the Mind Flayer got me.”

El nodded. “I know.”

“Thankfully… I don’t get them anymore. Not completely anyway.” Will paused as he collected his thoughts. El was still learning vocabulary and he didn’t want to confuse her. Not on a subject like this. “Sometimes… I still see things. Or feel things. It’s like… I’m on the surface now but just barely… understand?”

El watched Will’s face. Then she looked down at their hands. Then she glanced around the room as her brows furrowed deeply in thought.

“Once… Mike told me that… this place is like a... tightrope.” El gave up searching the room for something and released Will’s hand, trying to demonstrate with gestures as she recalled the lecture. Normal people… they stay on the tightrope. But, then there is a flea that doesn’t always stay on the tightrope.”

“Right… I remember.”

El lowered her hands, pointing to herself. I am a flea… and now…” She pointed to Will.

“So are you.” Will glanced down and pressed his hands together again. El watched him, wondering if it were a habit. She gently placed her hand on top of his again, trying to reassure him. “But… that’s ok now, right? The Mind Flayer is gone.”

“... He’s not.” Will whispered.

“But… we closed the gate.” El explained. Will nodded, but then shook his head.

“Yes but… that just locked him out of our world and killed all his monsters… he’s still there. In the Upside down… but he’s still here too.”

“Where?” El’s eyes widened in surprise. Maybe a little fear? He was certainly a little fearful too.

“I still feel him…” Will looked up at the ceiling, but his mind went beyond that. To a place far above the clouds that was plenty cold and plenty empty. “A piece of him that was in me… it’s waiting up there. Waiting for something.” Will shrugged nervously. "But it hasn’t done anything all year so far.”

“How do you know?” El asked.

“Because… “ Will looked down to meet her eyes. “A piece of him… some of him is still in me too. I’m worried that… if I fall… if I go under like the flea… he could get me again.” El’s mouth hung open, unsure of what to say. If that’s true, wouldn’t closing the gate have killed him? How was he still himself? Will guessed what her questions might be, so he continued.

“It’s not like it was before. I can tell. There’s only a little left. Before it was like… I was lost in a dark cloud. The more he controlled, the cloudier it got. The less I could see or feel or think. But now… I can’t see what he’s seeing anymore. I don’t feel what he’s feeling. The now memories are gone. I feel like myself again and there aren't any clouds. All that’s left… is this … sensation of knowing where he is. He’s in the sky somewhere… usually following me… but sometimes, he follows you too.”

“He’s just… waiting.” He finished.

“Waiting… for a gate.” El concluded. She wasn’t naive enough to think the creature would just go back to where it belonged if another gate opened. “It wants… to come back here.”

“Yeah...  probably.“

“... What will happen if there is another gate?” El posed the question though she partially knew the answer. The last ordeal was enough evidence to make a solid conclusion.

“You know,” Will answered. “He’ll want to kill everything. He’ll come for me again… and he’ll come for you too.”

This time, the silence in the basement was slightly uncomfortable. Like a cold unwelcome air entered the room and wrapped all around them. Instead of looking at each other eye to eye, they looked at their hands. At least their warm hands beat back the sudden chill.

“When I closed the gate… the Mind Flayer tried to stop me.” El explained. “But, I was able to make him go away. I closed the gate.” Will’s eyes glistened and he sat slightly straighter as she spoke. “If he comes again, I can stop him… we can stop him, Will. We know how.”

“There’s not much I can do…”

“You can.” El tried to meet his eyes, but Will was quite focused on looking down at their hands instead. “You can feel him. You will know when a gate opens, and you can warn us.”

“... You think so? Will that really help?”

“Yes.”

Finally, Will seemed to accept that and refocused on her face.

“...Alright.” Will smiled timidly, but El saw bravery in those eyes of his. Will was always so brave. “We’ll warn them if a new gate appears… We’ll protect everyone, together. ”

As El looked from one hazel eye to another… she saw a reflection of herself. She saw the vague outline of her face and her hair… but she also saw her past.

She and Will had lived such different lives, yet it was still so strikingly similar. She was taken away from her mother by a terrifying monster named ‘Papa’, just like Will had been taken by the Demogorgon to a dimension unknown.

‘Papa’ controlled her every move. Her every thought. Her everything. Disobedience meant punishment and pain. They hurt her. Will had everything taken from him by him. His thoughts. His feelings. His mind. Even his body. They were used to kill. To spy. To bring terrible creatures into their world.

A terrifying beast named ‘Papa’ still waited out there somewhere in the world, waiting for his opportunity to strike. Maybe waiting for an opportunity take her away again. Always waiting and searching for her. Will lived in fear every day, wondering what the Mind Flayer waiting in the sky wanted to do with him next. Anxiously hoping another gate would never open and allow the Mind Flayer to take him again.

She thought about her sister, Kali. Number 8. Kali used all her fear and anger to exact revenge on people like ‘Papa’. For a while, Eleven thought she could do the same. They hurt her. They hurt ‘Mama’. If given the opportunity, they would hurt all of her friends… but in the end, she wasn’t like Kali. She couldn’t use her anger to hunt them and hurt them. She didn’t care about them.

Will felt the same way she did. Even when fear seized his whole body, Will bravely made it through. That night when he told them to close the gate, Will would have died for them if it meant stopping the Mind Flayer. Their friends wouldn’t understand his feelings, but she certainly did. Whatever power she had… she’d use it to protect her friends. Even if it killed her. She held his slightly calloused hand, and not for the first time. But this was the first time he was able to hold hers back.

El smiled again, but this time a contagious chuckle accompanied it.

“What’s so funny?” Will asked, but he chuckled too. El reached up and ruffled his bangs.

“Brother.” She stated simply.

“GOD DAMMIT!” Dustin’s loud voice nearly shocked them to death. They turned toward the stairs as a waterfall of Cheetos rolled down step by step.

“Dustin! I told you to be careful!” Mike shouted angrily. Lucas behind them rolled his eyes and Max smirked at the scene unfolding before her. Dustin and Mike were carrying down the try of food Mike prepared so meticulously. Sadly, the Cheetos didn’t make it.

“Told you to let me carry it, Mike.��� Lucas started to pick up the Cheetos to make sure they weren’t stepped on and rubbed the stairs with their feet. Mike grunted and placed a tray of food on the empty table before glancing around the room.

“Will?? I thought you were going to get everything ready?”

Will blinked in confusion, then sprung from the couch. “Oh right! I forgot. Sorry. I guess we were chatting too long.”

“Now we’re way behind schedule,” Mike complained.

“Ah chill out Mike. We’ll just play a game first and then set up the campaign. It’s not a big deal.” Dustin set down the half-empty tray of food and took a seat at the table.

“It’s kind of a big deal that you spilled Cheetos on the stairs too! Now I have to vacuum first!”

“Well,” Max started. “We’re picking up the Cheetos. Doesn’t look like there are any crumbs to even vacuum.”

“Yeah to you it doesn’t.” Mike rolled his eyes. “My mom will still know that Cheetos got spilled on the floor somehow.”

Will shook his head as he set up the TV. Some squabbling was going to break out no doubt. Will glanced over towards El. She was in a similar state of disinterest toward the squabbling over Cheetos on the stairs. Her deadpanned look was pretty funny to witness.

‘Brother’, she said. What did that mean? Does she see him as a brother?

… Well, he always wondered what having a sister would be like.

This might end up being a series? Who knows.

#stranger things #will byers #jane hopper #el hopper #mike wheeler #my content

[elevenseggbros]

Truth or Dare - Byler

#byeler #ok i hate the ending but i wasn't sure how to do it #this is so long i am SORRY #mike wheeler #will byers #this kinda makes the beginning of the first episode a little sad #i tried to follow it as well as i could

[stillwaterspecs-blog]

when i’m dead make these cowards eat the ashes

the new month is quickly approaching. august is winding down and the back to school shelves are nearly naked. all the shopping centers and shoe stores are bumbling ghost towns and kids are biting their nails again and the trees are beginning to feel weak. they know their time is almost up. i watch those trees bend and sway and start to break under this crippling realization, and in my unnamed, unmatched eyes, i see myself in those trees. 

my life could be called good. it could be called bad. my mother will look back on it and tell everyone that i did what i loved always, with who i loved, and i yelled and screamed not to only to be heard, but to be listened to. she will tell her friends and she will tell my estranged family members that i was not going to find the cure for cancer, no, but i may have found the cure. 

my friends will not look back on my life or me at all. they’ll look at all the people who ruined it and they will point fingers. they’ll ruin his life and her life and make them pay and they may even write songs and throw sick sad parties and puke their sadness out. they will say i was right to leave, wrong to go. nobody will understand and nobody ever has. i don’t understand. where do i go, where do i fit?

lately i’ve had the feeling that i don’t belong. that i never belonged. ever since i was little, ever since i could grasp disassociation, i think i’ve felt it. in order to understand september 1st, and all this noise, let me go back to the beginning. i don’t often tell my story. i can rarely do it without squirming and crying and shaking and wanting to punch my own stomach until i can’t feel my churning stomach anymore. but i am not telling. i am typing. my stare is cold and still and my lips, sealed. i refuse to squirm and give power to this keyboard and this blank and this twitching cursor. i am typing this story to make sense of my life and its turmoil and i am trying to answer a question. will i make it to september? 

when i was twelve years old i was rambunctious and could read multiple grades above my level. i had power bangs and wore pink sweatpants and played my brothers drum set pretending i was meg white and sang into a shitty mic like i was jack and all was rainbows and butterflies or so they say. i was the kind of kid who could be left alone but didn’t want to be. a boy called bad was hired to be my babysitter. he had been hired years prior as a friend, almost a family member, by my older brother and his hair was brown and gelled near the top of his forehead and he didn’t smile but he laughed. his little sister was my age and she pretended she was a wolf and liked to hold my hand. she howled at the moon sometimes and told me secrets that weren’t really secrets; things about trees and squirrels and the fish that swam upstream. anyway, we had matching bangs. 

her brother called bad made my heart pound. in the fight and flight way. he would sit criss-cross-applesauce on the floor of my basement and let me sing and moan along with billie joe about my unknown male teenage angst. he clapped and sometimes he played the skins, and he was my mike dirnt and we were on tour in england. he told me i sang like an angel. a punk rock angel but an angel nonetheless. he told me i was extra pretty when i sang. i was twelve years old and he was old enough to drive. but he told me i was pretty and that was the only time i ever felt it. 

it went on for weeks, maybe months like that. just the two of us, and sometimes he would bring his little werewolf sister over, and we made horrible music and i sang about masturbation without knowing and sang about bombs and heroin without knowing because i was too young. i was too young to understand that i was not supposed to be beautiful yet. not to anybody but my mommy. my babysitter called bad continued until to call me the beautiful girl until he could show me.

there’s a closet in my basement. nowadays we keep the xmas decorations in there with the old dance, dance revolution mats and bins upon bins of snow clothes. i can’t remember the last time i played in the snow. back then it was pretty empty. it was barren except for my dad’s workbench with his wrenches and hammers and screws and all those evil things. there was lots of room to hide and seek and play when i was twelve. it was just a big old closet. i don’t know what you’d call it these days. 

the first time bad took me into the closet i learned how to play sticks. you put your fingers out and transfer fingers to each other and its all very lovely actually. you laugh when you get too many fingers and i imagine that perhaps that how love works. he taught me how to play sticks so many times. i was smart but i was silly and i cheated and he always said no. i should’ve respected his no. maybe he would’ve respected mine. 

the second time we were in the closet he kept the lights off. he said that i was getting so good at sticks i could do it in the dark. joke was on him. my eyes had adjusted and i never did it in the dark. i could always see what he was doing. i could always fucking see what he was doing. 

it’s here where i get angry and feel lost. so many games of sticks in both the light and dark. a week or two of sticks is exhausting. he agreed. the third time we were in the closet i lost a game of sticks. he told me that i lost the bet. i didn’t remember any bet. i couldn’t remember a bet that said he got to put his fingers in the waistband of my pink sweatpants and pull them down slowly to my ankles. i couldn’t remember a bet that said he got to rub his fingers against my underwear and make me squirm. i never made a bet that let him slide the black bandana in my hair over my eyes and then cover my mouth. i remember tasting the salty sweat on his thick angry fingers. i couldn't make a sound. even if i wanted to. i had lost this game of sticks and i had lost the bet. what else was i supposed to do?

it went on like that for three more years. 

three years of absolute fear. i couldn’t hug my family and i couldn’t run away from them either. i couldn’t sleep alone but it hurt me to sleep between any warm bodies. three years of him inviting me upstairs to his bedroom at xmas parties and tying my hands behind my back, rubbing his wet jeans against mouth and hips and telling me to be a good girl. to this day i am always a good girl. it was three years of me being the center of his grown up fantasies and his heart pounding dreams. i tried to fight him once in his own home but he grabbed my wrists and i can still see the bruises if i cry hard enough. it was three years of pure torture, pure pain. my skin was ruined and reddened and tainted by the hands of a bad bad man who could only seem to find joy in the scared of eyes of a young girl. for three years i learned how to be quiet. i took socks in my mouth, my own panties, my own dignity and swallowed them all until my throat was so clogged i couldn’t say no. 

and then one day i made a tiny little scene. pushed against him while he was grabbing my hips, ramming his own into mine, groaning and moaning and loving me bad. i let him grab me as tight as he possibly could, jerked my hips so hard hoping to hear them snap, hoping to hear him break, any part of him. my hand met his face with such fervor and delight i almost felt high. it wouldn't be the first time he hit me when he hit me back but it would be the last. i was a teenager now. i knew what was wrong and why it was wrong and i was old enough to know that i was always going to be the loser. but for a moment, the red stains my fingers left on his fat cheek whispered victory. we stared at each other, chests heaving in some sort of sick twisted unison. he pointed his cracked bedroom door and i followed his command for one last time and left.

its been another three years. those rooms and those houses and this body remain a crime scene. they remain a nightmare and they remain silent. my trauma has trampled my ego to pieces, my confidence to shreds. i am still a victim. i still can’t love completely and give completely or breathe right. i can’t dance or let go and i can’t wear bandanas and i can’t play sticks. well, i can. i can do all these things but it is not without consequence. it is not without my sobbing, puffy face hating itself in a public bathroom’s mirror. it is not without breathing so much yet so little that i black out. it is not without a loss of appetite so extreme that i can’t get out of bed, and i can’t pick up the phone. it is not without nightmares. it is never without them.

and yet i wish this was an isolated case. i wish i could tell you, whoever is reading this, that when my fifteen year old self left that bedroom she was never hurt again. she was never touched wrongly or unfairly or without her goddamn written consent. 

when i was fifteen years old i was loneliness manifested into a skinny mousey haired brunette who had shed her punk rock baby snake skin and grown into a sophisticated and dramatic theatre kid. i was outspoken, but let myself be silenced often. i was hardened by life and by men and by family and by the seemingly never-ending weathers that plagued upstate new york. i was going to rehearsal mon wed fri and church sat and sun and reading the good book with broken eyes and an even more shattered soul. i was so far from redemption that i think i had found it myself. when i was fifteen i met a boy in a striped sweater who told me he liked boys and girls and especially girls like me. we baked cookies at a nursing home and told little old ladies and racist old men lies about jesus and then kissed each other with tongue on the bus ride home. 

he was always in a striped sweater and one night, on a day when we weren't reading the good book with our broken eyes, he told me he was throwing a sort of party. the sort of party where everyone squints at each other and spins empty vodka bottles and yells and screams and laugh at you when you cover your ears. the sort of party where to music isn’t bad, it’s just too loud. and that sort of party sounded like the sort of party my parents wouldn’t like so it was my sort of party. he picked me up in his striped sweater because i wasn't old enough to drive yet. maybe that was always the appeal. 

alcohol is a weapon. and i was shot, murdered, annihilated. all his friends were older and wore less clothes than i did, said more words that i did, and yet, made less sense than i ever did. they were laughing like i thought they might and screaming like i thought they might and popping pills like they were candy and telling each other they loved each other. i know what loves look like and it does not look like that, it does not look like them. they offered me their candy and their glow sticks and he put me in his striped sweater and told me to plug my nose when i drank it. drank what? there was a blue solo cup in my hand and i drank it dry. i was so scared and so warm. i drank it all dry. pinched my nose and closed my eyes and drank it all dry until i didn’t open my eyes again. 

the next time my eyes were open they were laid on a video sprawled almost carelessly across somebody’s snapchat story. it was my first time seeing my body outside of my body. it looked like me and it slept like me and yet somehow it was somebody else. my limp broken jagged sad drunk dumb ugly body in a striped sweater slumped on his lap. he grabbed my soft hands and he laughed and he played with them and sucked each finger like a peach lollipop and then dragged it across his chest and down his pants, moaning like the wind in october and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. he was laughing the whole time, just like i thought they did at those sort of parties. they all were. next time i saw him he was at the round table sitting underneath a crucifix and eating a fruit snack, and i told him i didn’t believe in god. he told me he knew that already. 

“girls like you never do” 

i asked him if he believed in god.

“what do you think?” 

we got confirmed together and my new middle name was the same as the patron saint of the arts. i told my parents i didn’t believe in god, and neither did anybody else. i still think i’m right. 

when i was sixteen i tasted more bitter than ever. my brain twisted around itself and became sadder than ever. i started to crawl back into my body and hate it from the inside. my hair was purple sometimes but mostly just unkempt. people were watching their step and their words around me and that was the way i wanted it and how i wanted it was going to be the only way. when i was sixteen i fell off a skateboard and cried. i was making friends out of necessity and slicing up my thighs and stomach because i was too scared to die. when i was sixteen i met a twenty one year old man who wore leather jackets and dyed his hair black. he wore pictures of green day on his t-shirts and sang like a punk rock angel. he liked that i could sing like one, too.

we read scripts together and watched each other change backstage and he showed me tricks with his zippo and watched the flame in my eyes diminish whenever he commanded it to. he told me stories of women and goddesses he’d seen writhe and the pushed his lips against my neck to whisper how he’d never had someone so young. i was beautiful again. i wore shoes with heels and smudged my eyeliner and cut thumbholes in my favorite maroon sweater. presented myself as a lifelong partner to a man who brought me to the basement costume room and told me to take my shirt off. 

i stood in the dark in a training bra. when i was sixteen i still didn’t know how to handle my sexuality. he laughed and made me shiver until finally he cupped both my breasts with both his hands and twisted them so hard i yelped. it echoed in the room and it hit me. it hit me so hard i ran out of air and ran out of love. he pinched and squeezed me like i was my own voodoo doll and kept whispering bitter nothings into my collarbones. he planted seeds so menacing and so damaging that to this day the roots live in every dark, wet crevice of mine. in my eyes my curse of my youth pours out, from my nostrils my unbridled unwanted passion, and my shaking and open jaw drips like a moist cave and from the deep deaths of my throat his words still emit: so young, so new, so silly.

he touched me all over until he got bored. i felt stained. i felt warm and wet where i didn’t want to be and he ran a long slow finger from my crotch to my belly button and asked me to beg for it. when i didn’t, he took his box of costumes, and left. his footsteps were the least of his destruction and yet they made me quiver in fear. i thought about them coming back, i thought about him coming back. for what seemed like an hour, i stood half naked in front of a full body mirror and practiced saying no. i saw a sex driven bruise on the bottom of my neck and cried. it has never gone away. 

(that night i went home and swallowed as many pills as i could.)

(that is a different story.)

i was still sixteen when i took a bus to nyc and carried a butter knife in a purse for the first time. it worked as a weapon and a mirror and scared me more than anything. i thought about stabbing my babysitter. i thought about watching blood seep and soak that striped sweater. i thought about strangling him with a training bra. i thought all these things in a black dress in black tights with black heals and a black heart sitting next to a white man. he struck up conversation with me and wished me luck. he knew the city was dangerous sometimes. i was just going to see a broadway show. i was just going to see art. the most dangerous thing about art was the truth. and so he was quiet and laid his head against the window until the winter sun set early on the two of us. 

he woke to construction in the city. i watched him stir and just barely heard him mumble in confusion. the bus was dark and humming in the traffic. the shadows of the city were filling my brain and my mind and grounding my heavy sad feet. there were bandages wrapped around my ribcage. i was a shit show disguised as lonely girl disguised as a horrified girl. it must of showed. he put his hand on me knee. 

they all put their hands on your knee. and they move and creep up slowly, and they don’t look at you, because they are ashamed, and they are just as alone as you are. except they are alone in their ecstasy. they are alone in their indulgence and you are alone in fear and you are drowning. the water and the stakes are high and yet your mouth is shut. i closed my eyes and let tears run down my cheeks as he touched me. i remember saying please. i remember whispering no. i remember believing in god for a split second just to tell him i hate him. hairy fingers pressed against my tights pressed against my body. he was rubbing my shoulder with the other hand, his head still on the window. my tears fell on his arms. they shone in the lights of forty second street and then were eaten up by a buildings’ moon cast shadow. he touched me until our bus parked in front of the theater. he touched me until i stood up and pulled down my dress and grabbed my jacket and collected what i could of my body that still belonged to me. i sat through the show and cried during intermission. i took a bus home and sat alone and cried three and a half hours back. i took off my bandages and let myself bleed. i haven’t been to a broadway show since. 

dear god how i wish i could tell its over. that this story has seen its end. that the lesson has been learned. that at this point i have been saved. but i cannot tell you that. i can tell you that it is all beginning to blur. my story has no beginning anymore. no middle. no foreseeable end. 

when i was seventeen i fell in love for the first time. i learned that it was okay to be damaged and in love because that was how i loved my CDs, my records, my guitar. when i was seventeen i met a boy who bought me flowers and candy and set an alarm to text me on the dot every night at 11:11. to make a wish. when i was seventeen i met a boy who told me music had a right and wrong, gave me a black eye, and lit all my joints. i let him take my virginity because he wanted it. i want it back. 

when i was seventeen i learned that a true life cannot coexist with guilt. that love cannot coexist with hate. i learned that guilt did not only look like something but it felt like something. it felt like painful sex and it felt like being choked until my vision blurred. it sounded like one set of moans and groans and it rang out my own personal silence. it felt like my first bad trip, where the world became hyper clear and i called an ambulance over a dozen times. it felt like waking up in the back of my own car. alone. tripping. dissolved. used. it felt like the drive to school. it felt like a bareback. guilt manifested in my brain and body like a maggot and has since hatched into something uncontrollable. something undeniable. it has become me. 

a man who cannot take no for answer is the same as a man who will not listen to your answer. a man who claims to love you is the same as all the men who didn’t as soon as he betrays you. a man who guilts you into the illusion of love and takes what he wants while you are under his spell is not a man; he is a fucking coward. he is a con artist. 

when i was seventeen fucking years old i played my first ever punk rock show. i was shaking and alone and embarrassed and cold. but for the first time i was at least a musician. but leave it to a magician to turn me into nothing but a piece of meat. when i was seventeen years old i was followed out of my first gig by a man in a red hat and broken teeth and backed against my car. i put my number in his phone to avoid being hurt and months later he appeared at my work place to get me inside my car and grab my chin and my wrist and kiss me. kiss me with his tongue that tasted like an old chimney and leave a sticker promoting his band in my cupholder. and by the time i could hurt him and stab him to death with my car keys he was smirking at me from the other side of the glass of my passenger seat window, pulling a cigarette out its box. 

i am not out of stories to tell but i am out of patience. i am out of anger. it is five o clock in the morning, i am eighteen years old, and i’m sweating and shaking from a nightmare. i am sick of seeing the faces of my loved ones and close friends superimposed on these angry thoughtless bodies that tie me up and gag me and sing happy birthday and squeeze my tits and ass and shove themselves inside me and i am sick of waking up in a cold fucking sweat crying and scrambling for my phone to call 911 or my mommy or my beautiful beautiful boyfriend who i trust more than anything and still cannot give myself to. i am sick of being a perpetual victim to PTSD. of BPD. i am sick of being perceived as unlovable. as tainted. as unwanted. not only by others but by myself. i am sick of the disgust i feel boiling in my chest as i look in the mirror and see a girl who never got the chance to grow up. and so she stays kind. she exudes innocence. she exudes curiosity. its because i am kind. its because i am innocent. its because i am curious. there a good side of people that i want to know but am afraid to try. there is a light side of life i crave but am afraid to shrivel up in. 

september first is not because i am sad. it is not because i am dramatic. it is because i am exhausted. i am overused. i am saturated. i am limp with love and hatred and dripping with defeat. feed me to the dogs. i do not believe in god