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parkitaco · 1 year

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a color i have searched for

prequel ficlet #2 to swear that it was something, requested by @amaragf

Will is well-acquainted with the nuances of coming out. He’s handled it with delicacy, the few times he’s done it - first with Jonathan, then his mother. There had been significantly more crying involved on his part than he might have preferred, but he probably should have predicted that part, in all his planning and preparation for it. He’s never been able to control his emotions. Hide them, maybe, but never control.

It went well, though, both times, like he knew it would - the main reason he’d chosen the two of them to come out to first was because he knew they’d react well, and also maybe because part of him figured they already knew. They’d spared him the awkwardness of saying it up-front, but the coded speech Jonathan gave him in that godforsaken pizza dough freezer a million years ago and the framed picture of the rainbow spaceship he’d drawn when he was, like, ten that hangs proudly in his mother’s office says plenty on its own. He’d received bone-crushing hugs and words of affirmation and support and it had all been very emotional but ultimately good.

So, he’s at least a little bit experienced in this department, and has a solid idea of what to expect in a reaction.

One thing he did not account for, though, is the blank look El is giving him right now.

“You,” she says slowly, eyes narrowed the way they always are when she’s trying to figure something out, “-are gay?”

Even though he’s had the word on a back burner in his brain since he was approximately twelve years old, hearing it said aloud still sends his nerves into a bit of a scramble. Will manages a nod, hands twisting nervously in his lap. They’re sitting on the floor of his bedroom, listening to a Madonna record of El’s that Will would rather die than admit that he actually sort of likes, and Will had glanced over at her- his sister, one of his best friends, outside of Mike, except that Will’s not going down that rabbit hole right now- and had just blurted it out without thinking much about it: I need to tell you something.

But now he’s actually having to say the thing, which is infinitely scarier than the lead-up to saying the thing, and if the look El is giving him right now is any indication, she has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“What is… gay,” she asks slowly, sounding out the single syllable, and again Will’s nerves seize up.

It’s a fair question - what is gay? It’s an insult, sometimes, hurled at him by his peers and his father. It’s a secret, one that weighs on him like a physical thing, although maybe less of a secret now. It’s a curse, whispered in hushed tones between adults who are trying not to be derogatory and instead circling right back around to judgemental, which is almost worse. It’s his greatest shame and his greatest joy, his secret, his love, a fundamental part of who he is but not the only piece of the puzzle. It’s something Will is okay with, mostly, particularly when he looks at Mike Wheeler, marveling at how lucky he is to love him, even if it’s only from a distance.

But he is definitely not supposed to be thinking about that, because he’s talking to Mike’s ex, who broke up with him less than a month ago, and he can’t even begin to ask for her forgiveness for that aspect of it if she doesn’t understand the premise. “Um,” he says intelligently, and can feel his cheeks burning, “It’s, like. It means to be attracted to your same, uh, gender.”

El nods slowly, processing, brow furrowed. “Word of the day?” she offers, sending him a small smile, and he smiles back despite himself, relieved that she doesn’t seem disgusted or angry or any of the hateful things he’s been trained to expect.

“Yeah, sure, that can be the word of the day,” he says, laughing a little. “But- you understand?”

“I think so,” El muses, and meets his eyes warmly. “It is- boys that like boys? Romantically?”

Will’s stomach twists, and it’s all he can do to not picture a certain curly-haired, brown-eyed boy. “Yeah,” he says softly, and it feels like more of a confession than it is. He’s gotten past the first secret. He’s still undecided if he should bother sharing the second. “Is that okay?”

El makes a face, and the phrase how would I know echoes in Will’s brain, her voice bouncing around his skull. He laughs, and she grins. “I do not know why I would not be okay with it,” she says aloud, and Will wonders if he’s going to have to explain the concept of homophobia to her as well, “But yes, it is okay.”

Will knew she’d say this - being lab-grown and kind of a freak (said with affection, of course) probably makes her more accepting than most people, but this is 1986 and Hawkins and Will knows all too well that you can never be too sure of anything, here. He slumps against the end of his bed, relieved, and El smiles reassuringly at him as she scoots closer, leaning up next to him and knocking her knee against his. “Thanks, El,” he murmurs.

Anytime, she says back inside his head, and then aloud; “Why did you need to tell me that?”

Will swallows, nerves creeping back in. “Oh, I don’t know,” he squeaks, voice full of forced lightness, “I just- thought you should know.”

El mulls this over, biting her lip. “Do other people know?”

“Mom and Jonathan,” Will says, inexplicably embarrassed, “And- maybe the Party knows, too, but I haven’t officially told them, so-”

“I won’t tell,” El interrupts quickly, knee pressing more firmly against his own with the affirmation, and Will exhales, relaxing a little. “Promise.”

They’re silent for a moment, Madonna’s voice still playing softly from Will’s record player, and he resists the urge to tap his foot along with the beat.

Then:

“How do you know?” El asks, glancing at him with a curious look on her face, and Will bristles a little despite himself, defensive.

“What do you mean, how do I know,” he asks, and El’s face falls into a frown, confused, and he immediately regrets it. “I- sorry. Sorry.” He pauses, thinking of how best to explain it. “Um. Sometimes people say things like that because they don’t, like, believe you or something, or want to change it. Uh- you know how people sometimes say one thing when they mean something else?”

“Passive aggressive,” El recites proudly, shooting him a brilliant grin, and he huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I’m just- used to that. Sorry.”

“I did not mean to offend you,” El says, eyes wide and sincere with concern, and Will, oddly, feels a little bit like crying.

“I know, it’s okay,” he says quickly, and El’s expression smooths out, relaxing. “Um- to answer your question, I mean- I don’t know. It’s just a sort of- gut feeling, I guess,” he says, thinking back to the days of Snow Balls and that sinking sensation in his chest when girls asked him to dance, knowing he didn’t like them and being faintly sure that he never would. “That your experiences don’t line up with what people are telling you you should be feeling.”

El’s face twists in thought, and she bobs her head even though Will is fairly sure that she doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. But that’s to be expected, he supposes - it’s not like she has any of her own experience in this department to compare it to her. Her expertise is fairly limited to the supernatural. “Gut feeling,” she repeats, “I don’t think I have many of those.”

Will laughs again, already feeling lighter. That’s one thing he’s learned about coming out since the first time he did it- it feels good. Afterward, anyway. “You will,” he assures her, patting her knee with one hand, “You just have some catch-up to do, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, sounding faintly annoyed at the prospect, but she powers through anyway; “Is that all you wanted to tell me, then? That you like boys?”

“Um,” Will says, and trepidation creeps in. He has a choice to make - he could lie and say yes, and come away from the experience with a supportive sister and a generally good feeling. Or he could be honest with her, and risk having her hate him. Not that she would. Probably. But- well, it’s Hawkins and he’s Will, so you never know. “It’s kind of big, El,” he deflects instead, forcing a wry smile, “‘Is that all,’” he mimics with a scoff.

She shrugs. “You are still Will,” she points out, and the statement sparks more emotion in him than it should. “And I still love you.”

Will supposes this, ultimately, is what makes him take the leap. “Well, in that case,” he says, voice shaking a little. He curls his legs under him, shifting to look at her properly, and she glances over at him with an eyebrow raised, triumphant like she knew there had to be more to the story. “You should know that- I like one boy, specifically.” Despite his best efforts, Mike’s face appears in his mind’s eye, like a physical thing he can’t quite shake.

El meets his eyes, gently encouraging and a little bit gleeful, pleased at the prospect of gossip. Something Max has hard-wired into El’s brain, surely. “Who?” she asks, and her voice is so light and pleased and Will can’t bear the thought of having her turn on him, but he pushes through anyway.

“Uh,” he says, “Well- okay, don’t be mad.”

The gleeful expression on El’s face slips a little, and she frowns. “Why would I be mad?”

“It’s, uh,” Will tries, all coherent thought immediately leaving his brain. He’s prepared for this, has thought through what he would say to El if, hypothetically, he were to ever tell her the truth, but the reality of the situation is much harder to control. He opens his mouth, and all his words come spilling out, desperate to escape after being caged in for so long, rambling and frenzied: “I just don’t want you to think that I was, like, trying to steal anyone, and I know you broke up but it wasn't that long ago and I don’t even know why I’m saying anything because it doesn’t matter, I’m never gonna tell him so you have nothing to-”

Will, El says, both inside his head and aloud, and Will stops short, cheeks flaming with humiliation. He hasn’t even said it, technically, but he meets El’s eyes, and they’re wide with understanding. He resists the urge to run away and hide forever. “It’s Mike?” El asks, clarifying, and the confirmation has Will groaning in embarrassment and reaching up to cover his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says into his palms, pressing his fingertips into his burning cheeks, “I’m just- I tried to stop, but I can’t, even when you guys were together I just- it’s just always- God,” he huffs, giving up on forming an eloquent sentence and instead focusing on trying to will himself out of existence.

El’s fingertips brush against Will’s hands, and he peers through his fingers at her miserably. She tugs on his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face, and he lets it happen, too emotionally exhausted to fight her on it. “Will,” she says seriously, eyes wide as she clasps her hands between her own, “You do not need my permission to love him.”

Who said anything about love, Will thinks, but it’s not even worth it because of course she’d see through him, she’s his telepathic twin sister and honestly it’s a shock she hadn’t figured it out already. He supposes that not knowing gay people exist makes it a bit difficult to spot one, but still. Of course she would know that his feelings for Mike run deeper than “like”.

“If I did, though,” he forces out, stupidly choked up, close to tears, always close to tears, “If I did need your permission, would I have it?”

El smiles gently. “That is a bit nonsensical,” she says, a favorite word of hers as of late - Dustin probably taught it to her - “But yes, you would.”

“You’re sure?” Will asks meekly, wanting to hide behind his hands again, but she’s still holding onto his wrists, keeping him steady. “Because- if you were upset about it, I would understand.”

El frowns, shaking her head. “Will, you knew him first,” she points out, validating that mean, petty part of Will that had existed the summer before Starcourt, upset that Mike couldn’t find the time for him even if, logically, he understood the hierarchy of their friend group. Girlfriends first, then best friends. He’d always been destined for replacement. “Way before I did,” El adds, and again Will is struck by the startling clarity with which she’s reading the situation. He hadn’t explicitly said that his feelings for Mike had existed before she came along, but obviously they had, and clearly she knows that. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't so much of a relief to not have to explain any further.

“I guess,” he says, swallowing back the lump in his throat, “But still.”

El rolls her eyes. “You are too nice sometimes,” she tells him, which Will is perfectly aware of, thanks, and in this situation he thinks it is a little bit warranted. “It is not your fault. You are not bad because of it.”

“Still,” Will insists, scooting closer, and El fixes him with an unimpressed look as his knees knock against hers. “It’s- I mean, it’s bad enough that I’m, like, violating the boundaries of my friendship with him, but if I’m hurting you too-”

“Okay, first of all,” El cuts in, which is maybe a good thing because Will could feel another ramble coming on, his words overlapping and spilling over each other, “Mike and I are not together. I broke up with him, and it had nothing to do with you, and we are good now, so I do not care who he dates. Second of all,” she continues before Will can protest to the dating part, because the idea of him actually being able to date Mike Wheeler is frankly laughable, “You are not violating anything.”

Will isn’t entirely sure she actually knows what the word violating means, but the look she’s giving him right now tells him that it’s probably not a good idea to double check. “He’s my best friend,” he says in a low voice, fighting to keep his voice even as he twists his fingers through El’s, the warmth from her palms grounding him a little, “He doesn’t deserve me asking more from him.”

“Best friend,” El repeats faintly, and when Will glances up at her, her brow is furrowed in contemplation, like she’s thinking something over. “You are- special to each other, yes? Different than other best friends.”

Will frowns, unsure of what she’s getting at. “Um. I guess? I think that’s probably my fault, though.”

Something resembling a smirk tugs at the corners of El’s mouth, and her eyes are a little bit too wide and innocent when she meets Will’s gaze. “Maybe,” she hedges, in a tone that suggests something else. “I think you should talk to Mike,” she suggests, squeezing his hands, and Will immediately retracts his arms, shaking his head vehemently.

“No way,” he says immediately, scooting away from El and hunching in on himself like a physical reaction to the concept. “No, he’s- we’re finally in a good place again, I can’t do that to him.”

El squints. “Do you know if he likes boys?” she asks carefully, and the question itself sounds innocent enough, very El, always trying to get all the facts in order, but he senses that she’s gearing up to something, and he doesn’t like it.

Will clears his throat. “Uh- well, he’s never said, but- I don’t think so, no.”

“If he hasn’t told you,” El says, in her patented “logic” tone, steadfast and full of unearned confidence, “How would you know?”

“El,” Will says, huffing out a sharp breath, refusing to let that question sit with him for too long, “You’re overthinking this.” When she shoots him a confused look, he amends; “It’s like- thinking too hard. Making things more complicated than they are. Two words of the day today, ha.”

El is unimpressed. “I think you are underthinking it, then,” she says primly, “Or at least not considering all the options. Maybe it is actually more simple than you think.”

Will coughs, face flushed, and he tries not to think too hard about the how would you know, because he supposes he doesn’t know, but- “Okay, El, I appreciate your support,” he hedges, careful, and El sighs as she sees that he’s not going to let her run with this, “But I- I don’t think I really need the relationship advice right now.”

They stare each other down for a beat, long enough that Will gets fed up and shoots an I’m serious in the direction of her brain, and El shoots back a you’re annoying is what you are, and then she sits back on her heels, apparently satisfied.

“Okay,” she says simply, sending him a gentle smile, “Can we turn up the music now?”

#this got very byler-y whoops #was not part of the original plan #but oh well #byler fic #ficlets #st fic #mike wheeler #will byers #el hopper #willel

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darknessontheedgeoftowndyke · 9 months

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@sunlysane tagged me to list out songs for each letter of my username (thank u!!)

Darkness on the Edge of town by Bruce Springsteen (of course)

Automate by Snail Mail

Rain in Soho by The Mountain Goats

Kill All Your Friends by My Chemical Romance

No Surprises by Radiohead

Everlong by The Foo Fighters

Shadowboxing by Julien Baker

Street Spirit (Fade Out) by Radiohead

Orphans by Coldplay

Not About Love by Fiona Apple

This Must Be the Place by Talking Heads

How Not to Drown by Chvrches ft. Robert Smith

(The) End by My Chemical Romance

Everyone but You by The Front Bottoms

Daredevil by Fiona Apple

Geyser by Mitski

Every Single Night by Fiona Apple

Our Lady of Sorrows by My Chemical Romance

Famous Last Words (an Ode to Eaters) by Ethel Cain

Triple Dog Dare by Lucy Dacus

On + Off by Maggie Rogers

(The)Way things Are by Fiona Apple

Navy Blue by MUNA

Don’t Know Why by Norah Jones

Your Loves Whore by Wolf Alice

Killer by FKA Twigs

Electric Indigo by The Paper Kites

Tagging @hiriahb @alltimefade @yourtransexualheart @gentlemoth @bazpitch @nonsensical-lesbian @amaragf @trans-simonandgarfunkel

(No pressure obviously if you don’t wanna do it !!)

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bookinit02 · 1 year

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@amaragf thank u for sending me the best image i’ve ever seen. will be thinking about this all day.

#foah shippers what are u doing with ur life

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oatflatwhite · 8 months

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tagged by @clusterbuck and @leothil to do this picrew! every time i make a picrew i'm like huh. what the fuck do i look like lol. reckon this is pretty accurate tho

tagging some new mutuals <3 @moonfruito @amaragf @willelfanpage and @hereticlesbian <3 only if you guys want!

#tagged #liz.txt #my hair is actually a bit longer now but this is ideal length and i will be going back to it soon as well as redyeing my blonde

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fishandshesmygills · 3 years

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finally cleaned up and posted my thoroughbreds fic I wrote last summer!! just a silly little alternate ending drabble but I had fun with it <3

tagging some thorougbreds mutuals @thursdaygirlgn @holetual @mary-winchester @finalwoman @rebelgirlmp3 @commiedonnatartt @amyritter @amaragf @carrotflowers (no pressure tho <3)

#thoroughbreds #thoroughbreds (2017)#thoroughbreds dir cory finley #amanda x lily #amanda/lily #Anya Taylor-Joy #olivia cooke #thoroughbreds fanfic #ellie.txt

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emblazons · 8 months

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@stladies Appreciation Week Day FIVE: Favorite Quotes ⤷ inspired by my (and @amaragf's) love of Dark

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emblazons · 1 year

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'I can fight.' 'Better than any of us, kid.'

El & Jim Hopper in S03E08 - The Battle of Starcourt aka: El feels for @amaragf

#eleven #el hopper #jim hopper #hopper byers family #I just needed some Hopper Family feels okay #in this house we love el hopper #stranger things #my gifs #the me tag #this moment is honestly such an underrated of mine #its been a quick second since I've just giffed scenes I like #I think I might start that again lol #stedit #stladies

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parkitaco · 1 year

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realize, out of time

prequel ficlet #3 to swear that it was something, requested by @amaragf

Max Mayfield is big on independence.

Maybe that’s something that comes from not ever having enough of it, always living in Billy’s shadow, always controlled and afraid. But Billy’s dead, and Max’s stepdad has long since fucked off somewhere she doesn’t know or care about, and her mom is basically a shell of a person, so lately she’s had more independence than usual. She’s good with it. It’s how she’s meant to be, she’s pretty sure - alone but not lonely, strong and steady. Maybe that’s a little bit of a dysfunctional mindset to have at sixteen years old, and probably something she should work on in therapy, but therapy is expensive and couldn’t possibly cover half the shit Max has seen, so maybe not.

The point is; Max is fine with being alone.

She’s fine when she breaks up with Lucas for the millionth and final time, needing space after Vecna to process her coma and the consequent trauma. They all needed room to process, honestly, probably still do, and Max happens to be of the mindset that this is more easily achieved without the stress of a relationship adding to the pressure.

Again- maybe a thought process that should be observed by a mental health professional. But whatever.

She’s fine when she spends her days holed up in her room, hiding out from her sullen, barely-present mother and focusing instead on music and books and learning new skating tricks. She’s fine when she lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering what time it is. She’s long since dismantled the clock that used to sit on her bedside table. The obnoxious ticking was getting to her, even without the compounded trauma to add to it.

Anyway. Max Mayfield is a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need anyone, is the bottom line, and she’s more than happy to tell everyone around her that.

That being said, she is allowed to want people around, probably, sometimes, even if she’s absolutely fine on her own. She’s allowed to enjoy hanging out with her friends, in the months after Vecna when she slowly regains her mobility and then her sense of humor and then something resembling happiness. She’s allowed to attend movie nights and trips to the lake with her friends and not hate it, and she’s allowed to let a little bit of warmth seep into her stone heart when she cracks jokes with them and allows them to hug her and takes notice of the way El’s shoulder-length hair looks in the sun.

She’s been allowing a little too much, lately.

For example, that last part about El - it’s become a bit of a problem, actually, in the last couple months. Max has been noticing lots of things about her, more things than is probably normal for a best friend to notice. El is happier, lately, has been ever since she broke up with Mike almost six months ago, much more light and carefree. Their friend group as a whole has been increasingly happy, lately, everything sliding into place like dominoes and setting up what seems to be a bright future. El and Mike’s breakup, Will and Mike’s- well, whatever Will and Mike are now, Lucas’s basketball and Dustin’s increasingly impressive science grades, it all lines up ridiculously well. Max is almost hopeful.

But- El. She’s always stood out to Max, always been special. Maybe that just comes from being the only girls in their friend group of six, or maybe it’s just because El is El, all superpowered and gorgeous and sweet. But these days, Max’s heart has been going a little haywire whenever El spares a glance her way.

Max isn’t stupid. She knows what shit like that means, and even if she didn’t she’d have Lucas to compare it to- sweet, perfect Lucas, who is still one of her best friends but who doesn’t inspire that same spark in her anymore, but definitely did once. Max knows what a crush looks like, and if she dares to be honest with herself, she can admit that she as a pretty fucking big one on El Hopper.

Being from California, Max knows probably more than most Hawkins residents do about- well, about what it means to be a girl who likes girls. She knows words that most people here probably don’t, words like bisexuality that most of the population of Hawkins probably couldn’t even pronounce.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still scare her, a little.

Which is how she finds herself sprawled out on the grass behind the school building on a random Tuesday with none other than Lucas Sinclair, skipping third period in favor of pointing out deformed clouds and saying “that one looks like you” in a lovingly cruel manner. It was one of their favorite pastimes when they were dating, one that Max has been insistent that they hold onto, even if getting perfect pretty boy Lucas Sinclair to skip class on a regular basis is vaguely like pulling teeth.

“Lucas,” she says now, fingertips tracing through the air, following a cloud pattern that looks a bit like a spaceship, “Have you, like, tried to ask anyone out since we broke up?”

Lucas tilts his head to face her, raising a questioning eyebrow as grass brushes against his cheek. “Um. No, why do you ask?” he says, a little suspiciously, like he’s expecting her to get jealous or upset or shut down like she sometimes does when she doesn’t know how to process.

Instead, Max just frowns. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas laughs, evidently satisfied that she’s not going to bite his head off as he goes back to looking at the clouds. “Haven’t really been interested.”

There’s a beat of silence while Max considers this, fingers still winding absently through the cool, early spring air. It makes sense, it does - she’s always wondered how any of them will be able to form healthy relationships from people outside their friend group from now on, knowing what they know. How is she supposed to hide something like that from someone she shares everything else with, some hypothetical person fifteen years in the future that she’d already be sharing a home and a life with- assuming she’s not alone, because she’s independent and all that, and would be fine if she were. She’s legally bound to keep quiet about the Upside Down, although admittedly Lucas had also been legally bound, back when Max first joined the Party, and had gone ahead and told her anyway, and Max does plenty of other illegal stuff anyway. Why should this be any different?

Then:

“Max,” Lucas says, and she’s not looking at him but she can just hear the smug smile in his voice, “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

Max huffs out a breath, feigning indignance. “No,” she lies, but it’s not even verging on convincing, and she can sense his eye roll. “I was just- okay, if I tell you something, you have to promise not to be weird, okay?”

Lucas hums noncommittally. “Depends on what you mean by weird.”

“Annoying,” Max amends, tilting her head to shoot him a look, “Dumb. Idiotic. Freaked out.”

“Okay, got it,” Lucas laughs, meeting her gaze with a wry smile, “I won’t be any of those things.”

Despite herself, Max relaxes a little. Lucas is good and kind, she knows this much. He’s not judgy, and he takes most things in stride, even if he doesn’t fully understand them. And he’s perfectly accepting of Mike and Will and their nauseating relationship, so this shouldn't be any different.

But, a little voice in the back of her head reminds her, chiding and grating, you dated him. And you like girls and boys. That’s definitely weirder. You’re a freak, for sure.

Max scowls, batting away the obnoxious little voice that reminds her a little too much of Henry Creel, and focuses on Lucas. “Okay, just so we’re clear, I definitely liked being your girlfriend,” she says, and Lucas’s lips twitch in vague amusement, “And I liked you for sure, I don’t want you to think that I didn’t, but- I think I might like someone else, now, and- it’s a little bit complicated.”

“Okay,” Lucas says simply, rolling with the punches like he always does, and Max takes another shaky breath, vaguely reassured. “I kind of figured, but- thanks for clarifying.”

Max scowls. “Shut up,” she says, no bite to it, and then, “It’s- I like a girl, though, is the thing.”

It gives her the tiniest satisfaction when Lucas’s eyes widen, like he’s gotten the shock properly, the reaction Max expected. “Oh,” he says slowly, “I- okay.”

Max blinks. “Okay?”

He nods slowly, face brushing through the grass beside her. “Yeah, of course.”

“It’s not weird that I- that I like both?” Max asks, and hates the way her voice cracks on the question, like she’s a scared little second grader or something. She’s never liked feeling weak.

Lucas looks contemplative, like he’s thinking about more than just her question, and he seems a little flustered as he turns back to face the sky, one arm slung over his stomach. “Uh, no,” he says in a high voice, embarrassed, which makes no sense because if anything Max is the one who should be embarrassed right now. “No, I don’t think so.”

Despite his sudden shift in demeanor, Max finds this a bit comforting, and she rolls back onto her back, matching Lucas’s pose beside her. “It’s been kind of freaking me out,” she admits in a low voice, glaring at a low-hanging nimbus cloud like it’s responsible for all her problems. “Because, like, I sort of knew, but it’s really been hard to ignore lately, and I’m worried I’ll, like, make her uncomfortable or something.” El gets uncomfortable easily, although Max usually strives to not be the one to make her feel that way. She gets confused, and then frustrated over being confused, and in her more vulnerable moments she’ll ask Max to help her, to hold her and reassure her and help her understand.

Max would never admit it, because it’s a little creepy and a little embarrassing and probably makes her a slightly terrible person, but she kind of loves those moments. She likes being the person El turns to for comfort. It feels like a privilege, given who she is and who El is and the way they work together.

“I’m sure you’re not making her uncomfortable,” Lucas says, his voice evened out of that weird state but still a little shaky, like he’s thinking about something else.

“Really?” Max asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m not the most socially adept person ever, Lucas.”

He huffs a laugh. “Well, I wasn't gonna say it. But- I don’t know, you say what you’re thinking. It’s comforting. And if you care this much, you’re probably doing something right.”

Well, Max supposes, it’s not like El has run away screaming yet. Maybe he has a point. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then; “So, El, huh?”

“Lucas!” Max splutters, rolling over onto her side and whacking his arm. “Shut up!”

He cackles, easily dodging her fist as it comes for his shoulder again. “Sorry, it’s just- the options were sort of limited, so- lucky guess.”

“You’re an asshole,” Max growls, settling back into the grass and glaring at him, the side of her face pressed into the cool dirt.

“I hadn’t even gotten to the making fun of you part yet,” Lucas says gleefully, and Max promptly rips out a handful of grass to throw in his face. He just laughs harder, brushing dirt out of his eyes, and says, “I mean, no judgment, but I thought one of your general goals in life was to be as little like Mike Wheeler as possible.”

Max groans, shoving her face more firmly into the ground and inhaling the sweet scent of freshly mowed grass. “To be fair,” she says, voice muffled by the pebbles brushing against her lips, “He didn’t actually like her, so it doesn’t count.”

“Fair enough,” Lucas muses, but he still sounds unbearably smug about the whole thing, so Max throws more grass at him for good measure. “I- okay, okay, stop!”

Max huffs and rolls onto her back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Asshole,” she mutters again, but the corner of her mouth is tugging into a reluctant smile anyway, and she can tell Lucas notices when he nudges her arm and shoots her a smug grin.

“Are you going to tell her?” he asks quietly, evidently back to being supportive, and Max takes a deep breath as she works through her answer.

“No,” she settles on, even if the thought of keeping a secret from El kind of kills her. “No, she doesn’t need a relationship right now, she needs something reliable. I don’t want to confuse her.”

Lucas hums, fingers brushing through the grass beside her as he faces the clouds. “You know, you’re, like, weirdly mature about relationships sometimes,” he says thoughtfully, and Max glances at him, unsure if it’s a compliment or an insult or something else entirely. “You broke up with me to give yourself space, which was pretty self-aware, I thought, and now you’re keeping this from El to preserve her feelings, and it’s just- I mean, it’s sort of admirable,” he admits, and Max’s chest warms, oddly pleased, “But- I don’t know. You might be intellectualizing this one a little too much.”

The warm feeling dissipates almost instantly, and Max sends him her best eye roll. “Thanks, Mr. Love Expert,” she says sarcastically, “I’d hate to see what happens when you give solicited advice.”

“I’m just saying!” Lucas protests, and Max’s fingers twitch, resisting the urge to throw more grass in his face, “It’s admirable, but it’s also definitely a bit of a coping mechanism.”

“Lucas,” Max huffs, irritated with how right he is, and he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop.”

Max glowers, folding her arms more tightly over her chest and staring at a particularly fluffy cloud like she can- pop it, or something, just from sheer willpower. Would El be able to do that? She should ask. It would be pretty cool, but then, Max finds most things El does to be ranging from pretty cool to absolutely fucking incredible. Even disregarding her powers.

God, Max is so whipped. This is a disaster.

“Hey,” Lucas says, pulling her from her spiraling teen angst, and she meets his eyes again, watching his hesitant smile as he links his pinky through hers. “I- um. Me too, by the way.”

Max blinks at him. “You like El?”

“Wh- no,” Lucas says, laughing a little, “No, I, uh. I like both too, I’m pretty sure.” He ducks his head, shy, and Max stares at him with wide eyes, a giddy laugh bubbling up from somewhere in her ribcage.

“No shit, really?” she says, half-laughing, and Lucas nods, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” he admits, “I mean- oh God, do not tell Mike this or he might hate me forever, but I’m pretty sure I liked Will, back when we were kids. I’d always get all giggly and nervous around him.”

Max’s eyes widen gleefully, and she reaches over to whack him on the arm again. “Shut up, that’s the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, I didn’t know it was a crush until recently!” Lucas defends, blushing and flustered, and Max’s glee only increases. “He was a cute kid.”

“You liked Byers,” Max teases, just because she can, and Lucas glares at her.

“Okay,” he says, “I only told you that because I was trying to make you feel better, don’t make me regret it-”

“Oh, you’re definitely going to regret it, Sinclair, this is the best thing I’ve ever-”

“You are the worst, I can’t believe I used to date you-”

“You love me so bad,” Max counters, grinning and flopping back into the cool, crisp grass, and they continue on like that, their banter getting lost in the spring air.

Max, again, feels something resembling hopeful.

#happy valentines day here have an exes ficlet <33 #ficlets #platonic lumax #elmax #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #el hopper #st fic

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emblazons · 1 year

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what was that anon talking about the tutor whats disappointing about it?

I assume their ask was talking about the immediately post-viewing (spoiler free) commentary I had on the movie a few days ago, where I had mentioned the movie was, at least in my own taste…not great lmao.

It’s a FUN film if you’re a fan of Noah and like….c-movie thrillers in the camp way, but as someone who watches movies like it’s her job and constantly consumes psychological horror/thrillers from at least a dozen countries on a consistent basis, I can’t say it meets any metric of quality on the whole for me 🤷🏽‍♀️ I told @amaragf it reminded me of The Room in that it was a bad script where the actors committed to the bit so hard you want to die a little, because while Garrett and Noah are good actors and that saved a lot of what was actually a fairly interesting plot…the execution and what I know is a bad script leaves much to be desired for anyone who likes (dare I say it like this) “good” movies.

I still have a full review of it planned with more comprehensive thoughts—I just had dental work done the last two days, which has put a damper on my trains of coherent film-review thought 😭 but…all that to say even though the concept and actors are solid, the writing (esp the dialogue) is piss poor. It’s honestly giving “movies so bad they’re good vibes” to me a few days out now, which…I mean if that’s your thing, I’d head right to the theater LMFAO

Thanks for the ask!

#it was a terrible movie but the kind of bad you can still enjoy if you like laughing is how bad something is #I wanted it to be a good thriller but it just had me laughing in my seat it was so bad #and I know that wasn’t the goal LMFAOOOO #the tutor #asks

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parkitaco · 1 year

Text

you’re not sure and i don’t know

prequel ficlet #1 to swear that it was something, requested by @amaragf

If you had asked El a year ago if she thought she’d ever find herself breaking up with Mike Wheeler, the honest answer might have actually been yes.

She never would have admitted it, of course, because girlfriends aren’t supposed to want to break up with their boyfriends, not unless something very bad happens between them, and in El’s eyes, Mike was stupid, but he wasn't evil. He hadn’t done her some great injustice (noun; lack of fairness), and she knew she cared about him. He wasn't always the best boyfriend, but he was hers, and he cared, and El hadn’t been used to people caring about her. It was something she wanted to cling to for as long as possible.

That being said, she technically already has broken up with Mike once, even if she didn’t fully understand what she was doing at the time, and even if it hadn’t lasted all that long. She hadn’t even felt sad about it - in fact, she’d felt almost giddy (adjective; having a sensation of dizziness), high fiving Max and feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, all the confusion gone.

But then Mike had told her he loved her- or tried to, anyway, and that had been that. They’d gotten back together, and El is fine with that.

Or, at least, she was. But it’s been a few months since the Upside Down went away, and now that the threat of losing Mike and everyone else to Henry is gone, El has been thinking that maybe she doesn’t need to cling to him so tightly anymore. There is no spark in their relationship, like Dustin might say - they barely talk anymore, and for a while El was able to blame it on the aftermath of the Upside Down, the shuffle of her and Hopper moving in with the Byers at their new house in Hawkins, going over the official story with Owens and signing even more government-issued documents saying they won’t tell anyone what really happened. El is fine with keeping it a secret, honestly - she’s not sure why any of them would want to rehash (verb; put (old ideas or material) into a new form) any of that anyway. But it’s been three months now, and school is out for the summer, and the two of them are running out of excuses to put off the conversation that El knows Mike must know is coming too.

Which is how she finds herself cross-legged on her bed, Mike seated across from her looking somber (adjective; dark or dull in tone). He’d been over at the Byers’ house anyway, helping Will design a new campaign for their dragon game, and El had asked to borrow him with no small amount of trepidation (noun; a feeling of fear or agitation). He’s usually hanging around the house like this, but his main interest seems to be Will rather than El. It makes sense, El supposes, because they are best friends, and she usually prefers to hang out with Max, who is her best friend, rather than Mike anyway, but- well, that’s sort of the problem.

“Mike,” she says now, running over the carefully rehearsed words she has mapped out in her brain and already knowing she’s going to forget most of them, “I love you.”

Mike’s eyes widen, and an emotion that can only be described as panic flashes across his face. El has gotten used to it, over these past few months, over the last year, really. It doesn’t even sting anymore. That’s been a big part of her realizations lately - she got the I love you, back in the pizza dough freezer while she fought for her life, and it still wasn't enough. She’d somehow convinced herself it would fix everything, but had failed to consider the fact that Mike would have to actually mean it in order for it to do that. And in any case, she’s not even sure she loves him either, at this point. Not as more than a friend, anyway.

“Uh,” Mike starts, and El holds up a hand, putting him out of his misery.

“Let me talk,” she says sternly, and Mike falls silent, bobbing his head meekly and blushing something furious. “I love you,” she says again, “And I do not want to lose you. But,” she continues before Mike can try to protest again, mouth falling open and cheeks flushing redder, “I do not think that being your girlfriend is helping either of us.”

Mike freezes with his hand raised slightly into the air, halfway toward making a point. “Oh,” he says, more relief squeezed into the single syllable than El thought possible. “Oh, that’s- okay.”

Part of El had expected him to fight for her, to argue, to at least pretend, but after the past few months it makes sense that he wouldn't. They’re both just tired, at this point. It’s not worth fighting over anymore.

It doesn’t hurt the way it should, but it does spark fear in her, that he can let her go so easily. “I do not want to lose you,” she says again, fingertips digging into her sheets, desperate to make this point clear. “I want us to be friends. You are very important to me, and I love you, but I do not think that I am in love with you and I do not think you are in love with me.”

At this phrasing, a flicker of fear passes over Mike’s face, and he leans away just barely. “You- who else would I feel that way about, though,” he says tightly, huffing a half-laugh that sounds anything but genuine.

El frowns at him. “I do not know,” she says, confused, “I am just saying that- we are not romantic.” She’d had to consult her dictionary in preparation for this conversation, the big one that Hopper had gotten her for her birthday the summer before he fake-died. Romantic is what she and Mike are supposed to be. Platonic is closer to what they actually are - provided they get out of this conversation relatively unscathed.

“Oh,” Mike says, shoulders relaxing a little as he seems to catch her meaning, and he nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, I care about you, and I wanted to love you the way you wanted me to, I really did, but I just…” he trails off, eyes drifting away from her, landing somewhere in the vicinity of the wall above her head, the one that holds a painting Will had made for her. Mike has a similar one in his room, except that that one has the rest of the Party and all of their dragon-game costumes, and El’s is just of her and Will.

“I know,” El says gently, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his knee, and that seems to bring Mike back into focus, his gaze snapping back to hers. “It is okay. I do not want to force you into something that you don’t want, and I think- I need to be my own person.” She’s been thinking about that a lot lately - Max has been talking about independence recently, ever since she and Lucas broke up, and the word sounds nice in El’s brain. She doesn’t want Mike dragging her down anymore, even if he hadn’t been doing it on purpose.

Mike smiles a little bit hesitantly, reaching out to cover El’s hand with his own. “I think that’s a great idea,” he says softly, and for the first time in a long time, sounds like he’s being genuine. El beams.

“So we can be- platonic, then?” she asks, just to make sure she has it right. “Friends?”

Mike laughs, sounding a little choked up. His eyes are wet around the corners, relief seeping out of his every movement as he scoots closer and squeezes El’s hand. “Yeah, of course. Best friends.”

El rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I thought that Will was your best friend,” she points out.

For some odd reason, this makes Mike’s shoulders tense again, eyes flicking back over to the painting. “I- yeah,” he says haltingly, biting his lip. “Yeah, we are.” His voice oddly soft, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and he hurriedly glances back to El. “I mean- well, all you guys are my best friends,” he says, which is maybe the most nonsensical thing he’s ever said (and there is a lot to choose from). “Even Max, but if you tell her that I’ll kill you.”

El ignores the last part, frowning. “You cannot have more than one best friend,” she says primly. Now that she thinks about it, though, she can’t remember Mike ever specifically calling Will his best friend. It was just something that she knew. Will is special to Mike, that much is obvious - it’s different than it is with their other friends. That must make him a different sort of friend than the others, doesn’t it?

“Not true!” Mike squawks anyway, indignant (adjective; feeling or showing annoyance). “You’re all my best friends.”

“I was your girlfriend ten minutes ago,” El points out, still frowning at him, and he rolls his eyes, “And that defeats the purpose of best friend. It is not logical.”

“I call bull on your logic,” Mike says, which is not a very good counterargument, but El is willing to let it slide because this is the longest conversation they’ve had in months, and El has missed him. Maybe not in a romantic way, but definitely in a platonic one. “Dustin is always saying the same thing,” Mike adds, smirking.

“Dustin is very smart,” El sniffs, and Mike laughs, even though it wasn't a very funny thing to say. El feels like laughing too, actually, so full of relief that it’s spilling out of her. “He is very logical.”

“He’s annoying is what he is,” Mike says, and El laughs, tilting forward and tightening her grip on his hand, and then they’re both laughing, foreheads pressed against each other and hands clasped together.

“I do love you, you know,” Mike says quietly when they calm down a little, glancing up at her with wide, happy eyes. He so rarely looks at her with such affection anymore, and the knowledge that they’ve finally stopped making each other miserable warms El to her core, as does his proclamation. Maybe it’s not in the way she thought, but it’s nice to know that he does care, after all. She’s done losing people.

“I know,” she says, smiling, and it feels like a promise.

#ficlet #i need to start a ficlet tag for my blog lmk if yall have any cute suggestions for names #elmax #el hopper #mike wheeler #platonic elmike #st fic #happy valentine's day here's a breakup fic <33

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