#i know people don't necessarily like jonathan...

[okaybutlikeimagine]

A Father’s Day Triptych; P2

(Wrote a very late part 2 to A Father’s Day Triptych! this time following Jonathan’s past)

(as always, on AO3 here)

TW: past/referenced child abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, child neglect

Father’s day in the Byers household was dreary and exhausting.

It was probably always that way. Jonathan sometimes imagines there could have been a few pleasant years in there when he was a baby- back when he was far too young to remember anything and Will wasn’t even a thought in anyone’s minds. He only wishes he could have fully experienced them, if they ever existed to begin with. The only memories that he’s logged away are ones of stress and struggle. Ones that are loud and grating. Ones that are colored gray and black.

The first one he even remembers was the year Will was born, and how upset he felt at all the yelling still going on, even with the new baby in the house. He spent most of the day in his room, cradling Will while he heard his parents going at each other’s throats through the thin walls. Jonathan decided then to always do his best to make it okay for Will, at the very least. He’s spent every waking day in an attempt to make things okay for Will.

It was always near Father’s Day that Jonathan really understood the poor excuse for a father he had. He remembers the year in elementary school where they spent their last few days before summer break with craft paper and markers, set to draw up fun cards in honor of their fathers. He heard every story about fishing trips and “bring your kid to work” days and major league baseball games. Kids would boast about large barbecues and days in the sun. It became a one-up-manship contest at one point. Jonathan just sat and wore out his blue crayon.

And maybe it was that year that he believed those things could actually be true. That kids weren’t just lying to make themselves look cool- that they actually had fathers who cared… maybe even listened once in a while. It was kind of like the opposite of being told Santa Claus isn’t real, but perhaps a bit more heart-wrenching. It was like being told Santa Claus is real, and he’s every bit as magical as they say he is, but he’ll never come visit you.

Jonathan biked home from school that day and almost convinced himself that it could be real for him, by some sort of miracle. That Lonnie wasn’t really horrible all of the time, maybe Jonathan was just doing something wrong. He filled himself up with fanciful ideas of becoming a better son so he, too, could deserve one of those “good fathers”. He almost had a whole plan set… and he was about halfway home when his head was full of all the times Lonnie had muttered “useless” at him for stupid things- like how he flinched at the sound of guns. Dropped the tool box multiple times. Couldn’t even catch a football.

And Lonnie was always cruel and insufferable, but it got exponentially worse on days where he felt owed something. Father’s day, his birthday, hell sometimes even just random days off. He’d kick up his feet on the coffee table and loudly demand to be served. Joyce would spend all day delivering food, beer, newspapers, magazines… Lonnie would demand it all with an expectant smirk on his face that’d turn sour when he didn’t get what he wanted. He pouted like a child- more often than Will ever did. And when Joyce got too tired, Jonathan quickly took up the task, even if it was at Joyce’s behest. He was only a child, it was all he could do to help her.

He’d face the disgusting smirk himself, as much as it made him queasy to look at. He was always a scrawny kid, so he’d try not to recoil at the way Lonnie clapped him on the shoulder with a bit too much force. It was like the man was trying to assert dominance. Or like he was trying to break Jonathan beneath his hands while crowing about how it was “for his own good”. If Jonathan reacted too much, Lonnie would just grip tighter. Sometimes he’d whip Jonathan into a headlock, deeming it “tough love” as he’d grab at Jonathan’s hair and pull. Always pushed Jonathan in a means to provoke him- wrestle and rough him up a bit and cackle as he did it. He’d try to get him to fight back. “Toughen him up” and teach him “valuable lessons”.

Jonathan just did his best to keep it away from Will. Whenever he could, if he ever saw Lonnie veer in Will’s direction with that gruff chuckle and that glint in his eye, Jonathan would push between them in an instant.

When Lonnie was finally out of the picture things got… stilted around Father’s day. Awkward. Fumbling. Joyce tried her hardest to make the day feel as normal as possible. Jonathan was used to it, but it was still hard for Will. He was still in elementary school. One year they did something in class to help celebrate. Jonathan remembered the way it felt to be so… isolated. He watched Will come home and slink off to his room, tears welling up in his eyes. He held Will tight that night and chastised him for ever blaming himself as the reason for what happened. Jonathan found himself still cursing Lonnie just as much as he did while the bastard was still in their home.

It never got less awkward. Every Father’s Day since then felt odd. It was never like something was missing… more like something was suddenly intruding on them all. And Jonathan only gave himself a few moments to despair the sinking feeling before putting on a brave face to soothe an anxious Will and Joyce.

…

Father’s day in the Byers-Hopper household was awkward…but somehow in a very caring and sweet way.

Jonathan had known Hop for a long time before they started to share a roof. He briefly remembers being a toddler and meeting Hop a couple times on the street. The odd, confusing pride he felt in being called a “handsome young boy” and Joyce smiling tightly and their exchanges being short. Remembers a few years after that when Jim rolled back into town on a wave of rumors about death and tragedy- when whispers followed him like ghosts. There was a fine line everyone seemed to toe back then… between their respect of him as Chief and their disgust of him as a drug addict and a drunkard.

Jonathan always thought of small moments when he thought of Hop… moments like when they crossed paths at the Hawkins 4th of July parade and Hop handed him a lollipop. Or the time they caught sight of Hop at the fair and the Chief had given Will a Sheriff’s badge sticker to wear on his shirt and deemed him the newest deputy and made Will giggle like crazy. Even back when he always seemed sad, he was sweet- so suddenly having him around didn’t feel as gross or stifling as he once thought it might. The only sourness Jonathan ever felt was that anyone outside would ever think, even for a second, that Joyce hadn’t done a good enough job on her own. Just her and her two boys. That she and Jonathan didn’t give it their damnedest- that they needed someone around to help because they couldn’t hold it together. It wasn’t like that. Joyce was a good mother- the best mother.

Still, he did appreciate the extra helping hand. Well… make that a few pairs of helping hands.

The once Lone Wolf Jim Hopper didn’t come on his own anymore- no, now he was a package deal. An exhausted cop, a girl with superpowers, and a boy with burdens. It was a strange accommodation to suddenly make, but hell, even they weren’t unwanted.

Will seemed almost impossibly happy to have someone his age around all the time. Jonathan knew how cool Will thought El was, but Will couldn’t ever seem to believe when El returned the same feelings to him. She listened to every detail about his D&D character, she watched in fascination as he drew, she cheered him on when he played video games. She told stories to Will about the time he went missing- how all the rest of the party ever did was tell her how wonderful he was. She treated him like a hero, too. The two of them became an excitable dynamic duo to be reckoned with.

And Billy made Jonathan… tentative, at first. Though as the days went by, Jonathan was suddenly hard pressed to remember when they ever interacted at all before living together. As soon as they got to talking, Jonathan realized how oddly similar they were, and suddenly a gratefulness began to overcome him. There was someone around to help buy weed, and someone to smoke it with. Billy seemed to know a lot more about different strains than Jonathan, something Billy attributed to being from California, so he showed Jonathan which strains to steer clear of so Jonathan wouldn’t ache to crawl out of his own skin. It was also nice to talk with someone about music who got it… who craved it as much as he did, even if Billy’s taste was atrocious. Billy would say the same about Jonathan.

Billy was gentle and kind with Will. El was cheerful and sweet with Jonathan. And Joyce… Joyce hadn’t looked that calm- that happy in -far too long. So regardless of anything else, it was all worth it. But what surprised Jonathan the most was how he found himself gauging Hop. Constantly.

The Chief Jim Hopper himself, who swung El around like a monkey sometimes. Who was more gentle with Billy than Jonathan could ever make sense of. Who treated Will to ice cream and candy maybe a little more often than he should have. Who gave Joyce soft kisses on the top of her head. Who smiled a hell of a lot more than Jonathan had ever seen him before. Who looked comfortable in his own skin again. Who looked confident in himself again.

Jonathan was happy for him. But that still didn’t make anything feel anywhere close to normal about having a… “father” in the house. There hadn’t been a “dad” around to celebrate in such a long time. Father’s day meant nothing to them anymore in the Byers household. Maybe they’d order some of their favorite take out that night but that was about all. So when June came around and El appeared in Jonathan’s doorway, he assumed it could be anything.

He wasn’t expecting her to yell “Father’s day!” at him in excitement.

Billy had appeared next, behind El, explaining how they usually do something for Hop. Looked at Jonathan with an expectant gaze, asked if he was going to come along. And something pulled within Jonathan at that moment- something deep and sick, like jealousy. Or maybe betrayal. Like a bitterness he didn’t know was locked away inside of him.

He joined anyway and sat in the passenger’s seat of Billy’s Camaro, El and Will in the back, while El and Billy talked about what they were looking to get for Hop from the store. What they had learned about him. What they had gotten him in the past. Jonathan pushed down the images of them celebrating Hop happily.

He hung back in their group of four. He watched Will start to get excited with El. He caught Billy’s attention somehow, on accident, and just couldn’t keep the words in his damn mouth. They stumbled out in a worried mumble: “This is weird.”

Billy was confused. Jonathan stuttered, feeling out of place again and wrong, too, for saying anything at all. Tried to keep his big feet and big mouth from stepping on any already battered toes. He couldn’t take his eyes off of all the Father’s Day decorations and cakes and balloons and cards and the way they were eating him from the inside out.

He wasn’t eloquent in the slightest. He stuttered over how he and Will hadn’t had a father in a very long time. Not one to celebrate. The whole time he spoke he was keenly aware of Billy and the reason he was now living with Hop in the first place.

Jonathan held his breath as the air between him and Billy went dead and wavered in the awkward silence, before Billy spoke up in a tone Jonathan couldn’t make sense of.

“It is weird.”

Jonathan was shocked. “Yeah?”

“It keeps being weird.” Billy nodded. He was solemn. He was staring, unseeingly, in front of him as they walked. “Not bad. Weird though.”

Once again, Jonathan was grateful.

Father’s Day was the very next day. Jonathan was content to let it just be a Billy and El thing, but it wasn’t- Joyce joined in readily. Will didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. They all four presented Hop with burgers and pie and attention all while Jonathan stood in the back and felt like an asshole for it. He turned down the offer of a slice of pie. He ignored the records and the card games and the laughter. He felt like a ghoul slinking away to the dark corners of his room.

He liked Hop… he knew he did. He had talked to Billy about him before Joyce and Hop decided to make things official, when it was clear that they were going to become one big weird family. He had asked what Billy thought of Hop, as if he didn’t know the man at all. As if Jim Hopper was a stranger to him. Billy had stuttered and stumbled and used the words “a good dad” and tore right through Jonathan’s heart.

Jonathan laid on his bed, unsure if the staticky feelings in his joints were bitterness or exhaustion or even just… early onset arthritis? He debated putting a tape into his stereo. His limbs had no strength within them. He sighed and thought of the past and wished it didn’t have a grip on him.

A knock came at the door. Jim Hopper walked in.

And Jonathan stared as Hopper spat a flurry of niceties his way, trying his damnedest to say… something. Jonathan wasn’t too sure what exactly. He blinked as Hop spoke circles around himself. Before-

Hop heaved a big sigh.

“Listen to me.” Hop heaved out as if Jonathan had even said a word since Hop walked in. “You and your brother… you kids are a couple of… the best kids ever. I don’t think kids get better than you two. Really you’re… you’re such good kids and you deserve… you deserve.”

Jonathan waited in the silence and thought about being called a “kid” while Hop began to try again.

“I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t be saying this to you but… your old man… he was an asshole.”

And Jonathan huffed out a chuckle- couldn’t keep it inside him. Hop barely seemed to notice.

“A real prick. I never liked that guy, and I just don’t know how you two grew up to be- no, I do. It was your mother. Your father just didn’t know what he had. He never noticed anything good even when it was two inches in front of him.”

Jonathan stared at Hop. Watched how Hop messed nervously with his hair and his collar and the buttons on his shirt.

“He always was a screw up but he screwed up big time when he screwed up here with you two. With you three. He lost something real good here. And maybe I’m the asshole for being glad for it because…”

Jonathan didn’t know where this was going… but he was figuring it out quickly. Hop pressed on.

“I’m glad to be here. Thank y-”

Hop faltered. Jonathan watched. Jonathan had no voice left in him anymore. Hop continued.

“This day is weird. I know it. Trust me. And you don’t have to… you don’t have to… anything. You don’t have to anything!”

Jonathan laughed at how weird of a statement that was. Hop forced himself to continue on.

“I just… don’t know what I’m trying to say. But I’m not… taking it for granted… that I’m here.”

Jonathan blinked. Hop fidgeted.

“I just hope you know that.” Hop said and looked like he was 2 seconds from fleeing and Jonathan watched and couldn’t make sense of any of the swirling feelings in his stomach as he felt his voice bubble up.

“Billy was right.” is what he said. It was Hop’s turn to look speechlessly at him. Jonathan felt his heart pull. Felt everything in him confused and fighting… and something small in him felt like a bit of relief. “You’re a good dad.”

And Hop’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, with an unmistakable wetness shining in his eyes as the star on top, and Jonathan felt stupid for thinking about Santa Claus in June.

…

Father’s day in the Byers-”not quite Wheeler yet but soon” household is stilted and virtually non-existent.

Jonathan has been living in his own place for years now and he still feels like he can’t fill it up all on his own. He thought he’d be beyond ready to finally get out, but once the time came he realized how heavy his feet were. He’s got all his belongings, most of his music (the stuff he didn’t leave behind for Will), a table, a couch, a bed… and still the place feels blousy around him as he walks around it. He’ll be glad to have Nancy as permanent company soon. In a few months, when she’s finally set to move in. Now that they’ve finally both convinced each other that being together is far more worth it than being alone.

And living on his own has made Jonathan feel growing pains he thought he’d long since forgotten. Even though he’s alone, those small, random holidays don’t cease. It’d be so much easier to ignore them than to notice how hollow he feels when they pass. But, whether it be unfortunately or quite the opposite, he can’t ignore Father’s days anymore- even as they roll by in a lazy blur. That first one out of the house almost slipped past him completely, but he forced himself to call home. Call Hop, with butterflies winging at his heart. He wished him well and sent his thanks in roundabout ways that still felt cottony in his mouth. Hop fumbled over his own emotions, too, so all was well.

Then he heard that Billy and Steve decided to adopt.

He spent that whole afternoon sitting on his couch, zoning out to the television, thinking about that and what it means. When he made his monthly call to the Harrington/Hargrove residence, he asked them what it’s like. He tried to make it casual, like he was only just vaguely interested. Billy sounded tired. Suddenly there was screaming in the background. Jonathan got handed off to Steve because apparently Billy is the one that has to handle it. Again, he asked what it’s like… and this time, Jonathan could hear it. Steve Harrington and the loverboy that he is had honey in his tone. As the screaming quieted down, Steve surprisingly used the simplest words to explain what it’s like to feel the entire Earth’s joy and love in your heart.

Jonathan still felt dizzy with it after he sent his goodbyes and ended the call.

So June is here and Father’s Day rolls by quickly, as always, except this year he’s getting company. Not Nancy yet, but Billy. He’s got some work trip out near where Jonathan is at and he’s agreed to come visit.

On Father’s Day itself, Jonathan calls Hop. They do the song and dance around feelings and how much everything has meant to them. Hop says “Thank you, son.” and Jonathan has to hold his breath at that before he bursts with everything inside of him.

It’s a few days later when Billy comes by, barging into Jonathan’s apartment as soon as he gets to the door with a case of beers and a bag, asking if he can crash. Jonathan rolls his eyes as he watches Billy stake claim on the entirety of his couch. Jonathan grabs the tin of weed he left laying around for the two of them and then shoves at Billy until he moves over enough for the both of them to sit down. He hisses as Billy lays his arm around the backrest of the couch and tugs harshly at his hair, just like he always used to do around the house back home. Growing up, Jonathan never once thought about what it’d be like having an older brother. It’s crazy to think that he knows now, even if they’re only about half a year apart. It’s warmer and perhaps a bit more painful than he’d have anticipated.

They lay around and chat, the TV humming with whatever movie Billy mindlessly changed it to and the stereo in the corner tuned to a station Billy didn’t spit at. He’s always needed a good few different distractions at a time. Jonathan rolled the joint they’re sharing, not particularly fond of the way it burns his chest but knowing Billy prefers it most times. It’s nice to be with him again. He fills out a space in a way that’s all consuming, and makes Jonathan feel a little less like a pinball.

And maybe the two of them don’t really do “sentimental”, but Jonathan still feels obligated to say something since Father’s Day just passed. He feels it in his chest, clawing away at him. Plus, he’s got a bit more on his mind this time around…

He tries to make it casual. They do their usual arguing over Nirvana and Radiohead and Pantera and Jonathan quickly slips in a “congratulations”.

“Huh?” Billy grunts around the joint in his mouth. His voice has only gotten gruffer as they’ve gotten older.

“Happy Father’s day-” Jonathan tries again before getting cut off.

“You’re late to the game, champ.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, grabbing the joint quickly when Billy offers it up.

“Alright, then I take it back.”

“Good.” Billy’s still got a grin like a shark, but it’s softened a bit with the years added to his face. Billy stretches out long like a bored cat on his seat on the couch. “I expect two next year, though.”

“You’re an asshole.” Jonathan chuckles and yet groans simultaneously- a sound he’s mastered with Billy’s presence in his life.

“And you’re wrong about Pantera, listen to me-”

Jonathan lets it all slide. They continue to just talk, catch up on life, continue jokes they’ve had running since they were teenagers. Jonathan brings out more weed because he originally thought Billy was going to have to drive back to a hotel tonight. Billy burns through a couple of beers and laughs at the way Jonathan still winces at the taste- can barely finish half a can. Billy says “was gonna ask you if there’s something fun to do around the city but I think I’d rather stay in. Can’t believe the kid has made me boring-” over their Chinese take-out that they’ve ordered because “I’ve been craving this shit for months. The little tyke refuses to touch the stuff and we’re sick of making separate chicken nuggets for him.”

And Jonathan thinks he’s going to snap in half.

He can’t handle himself. He’s falling into too many thoughts that are eating away at everything inside of him and he can’t put words to any of them but he has to try now that Billy is here. Now that Billy keeps bringing him up, can’t seem to get the kid off of his mind either. Can’t help but mumble about how appreciative he is to watch a gory movie again because “we’ve gotta be mindful of the little buster, so we don’t scar him for life or something” and Jonathan is filled to the brim with everything he wants to say.

“So…” He starts, lamely. Billy looks over to him, chow mein hanging from his mouth still, eyes expectant and suddenly Jonathan loses every word he’s ever known. “Uh… babies?”

Billy slurps up the chow mein noodle.

“Uh… yeah?” Billy says, just as lamely, confusion painting his face. “What about them?”

Jonathan somehow didn’t think he’d be able to get this far. “What’s it… like?”

Billy stares. He blinks. Then he barks out a loud, booming laugh- and Jonathan might be dramatic, but he could swear it shakes his apartment.

“What are you talking about, Jonny?” Billy looks at him like he’s got at least three heads on his shoulders and if Jonathan wasn’t so sure he’d lose in a heartbeat, he might try to wrestle Billy off the couch.

“Your kid! Your… and… babies... and-”

“Is it the weed?” Billy asks, about a step away from sounding genuinely concerned. “Am I witnessing the day Jonathan Byers actually can’t handle his weed?”

“You’re never going to stop being a pain, are you?” Jonathan grunts, reaching for his cider that he opted for after giving up on the beer Billy brought.

Billy laughs at him, like he always does, but it’s never as poisonous as it seems. “And you’re never gonna stop being embarrassing! Now, what are you saying to me? Are you getting baby fever or something?”

There’s a pause and… yeah, maybe Jonathan never thought of it like that but… maybe? He looks at Billy with wide eyes, very sure that his face is betraying him by showcasing just how scared he is to be having this conversation.

Billy’s eyes widen too, with realization and understanding. “Oh my god, you totally are.”

Jonathan wants more than anything to be able to deny it, but there’s no way to. He suddenly feels like maybe hiding his face is better.

“It’s not… like that-” He tries and fails, face suddenly burning and Billy is laughing that loud, obnoxious laugh again as he knocks into Jonathan’s shoulder and sends bits of food flying out of his container. “I just…”

“Just what? You been cooing over babies in the street, buddy?” Billy is cooing at him, talking to him like he’s a kid and Jonathan truly is going to find some way to injure him.

“Shut up, I’m just asking… what’s it like?”

“What, having a baby?”

“Yeah.” Jonathan wants to busy himself with food like Billy is, but suddenly he feels he can’t stomach it.

“Wouldn’t know, dude.”

“What’s that mean?” Jonathan asks, about ready to shake Billy senseless. “You’ve got a kid-”

“Yeah, and he was a toddler already when we got him. I don’t know about babies.” Billy emphasizes, giving a little shrug along with it as he shovels more food into his mouth. Jonathan had forgotten about that part… he supposes that’s right. “What are you asking me for, anyway? Aren’t you the one that’s been an older brother like… forever?”

Jonathan huffs at that.

“You’re an older brother too, y’know.”

“Yeah, I got Max when she was like, seven!” Billy clarifies loudly. He sounds incredulous, with a look to match as he turns to Jonathan. “And El when she was, what, 12? Will when he was like 13 then you when you were fucking seventeen, I don’t know what the hell you think I know about babies.”

Jonathan takes a big swig from his cider, head aching from having to have this conversation. He should have just kept this to himself… he just…

“I was just asking. I’m just… and Will isn’t my-” He’s not sure how to say it. How to get the words out to where they make sense. “He’s not… I’m not...”

They live and die inside of him.

Billy is still looking at him, but far too intently now. Jonathan can feel his gaze on the side of his face.

“I mean, he kind of is, right?” Billy starts, voice suddenly too soft for Jonathan to be able to think straight. He says it like he knew what Jonathan was thinking about- knew what Jonathan couldn’t say. Jonathan hates when that happens. “Weren’t you… always kind of like… the dad? In all that?”

And Jonathan thinks he might just break, hearing that. Sometimes he forgets how much Billy knows. He’s not sure what he’s meant to say to that. He can’t say he never thought about it that way when he was 12 and cooking meals for all 3 of them. When he tried one summer to get a job out of town- biked himself all the way out of Hawkins to the first place he could lie to about being old enough to work. Because his mom didn’t want him to yet so he couldn’t stay in town where everyone either knew him or knew his mother. All those years he changed diapers and bottle fed Will and taught him his ABC’s or read to him before bed.

 Is that what fatherhood is?

Jonathan doesn’t like to count those years, because if he does then he just gets sad. He doesn’t like to count those as parenting because then he’s forced to realize how much of his childhood was lost on him. Lost to that. He doesn’t like to think of it that way, he loves Will more than anything in his life and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, but…

“Honestly,” Billy sounds so quiet still. Jonathan is amazed at how quiet Billy can get. “I thought you’d never want kids after all that.”

Jonathan thought so too. He wasn’t ready to feel this way.

They sit in silence for a while. Jonathan tries to speak again but Billy cuts him off by shoving a container of food at him and just grunting out a commanding “Eat.”

Jonathan takes it. Stabs his fork through the container without really eating. Billy groans at him.

“God, quit playing with your food? You’re worse than my kid.”

Jonathan’s heart feels like it wants to tug out of him. He concedes to eat, and they do so with virtual silence between them- only the white noise of the TV and the radio and the street underneath them as their background.

Jonathan gets more than halfway through his takeout container before he tries again.

“Why?” He asks, like it means anything. Billy just raises an eyebrow at him. “Why did you decide to have kids?”

Billy pauses- seems to take the time to really think. “... because we wanted to up the difficulty in our life?” is what he ends up saying and Jonathan can’t hold in his scoff. “I don’t know.” Billy finishes with uncertainty and a bit of a laugh.

“I just… can’t think of any reason for me to be a father that doesn’t feel so fucking selfish.” Jonathan forces it out of himself, already feeling self-important just for mentioning it.

He just hasn’t been able to make sense of it. He’s been wrestling with it for too long now- this sudden want in him to have kids.

He spent most of his life dedicated to a kid. He’s almost grown a hatred for being in charge, which is why he loves how sure Nancy seems to be of everything. She can take the reins, and he feels a sense of calm at not always having to drive the helm. But… maybe baby fever is the right word? He sees lots of kids on the street here with their parents. Kids smiling and laughing. He passes by a school on his walk to work and watches them get dropped off. The joy in their faces. He remembers being a kid. Remembers what it was like, to feel all those pains of growing up. Figuring out the world, for all the good and bad that lies within it. He remembers feeling pain, and seeing it in Will’s face, too.

He remembers how hard it was to be a kid in his situation. When he heard Billy and Steve were adopting, he thought about what those two were doing for that kid. What they meant to that kid. He thought about Hop…

“Not that you two are selfish!” Jonathan remedies quickly, realizing exactly what he just said. “You’re literally the exact opposite of selfish. You’re helping that boy… way more than I think you even realize.”

He almost envies it sometimes. For as exhausting as it was to do all he did, he almost misses helping out around the house. Helping his mother and helping Will. Sometimes, being here and all alone, he realizes how little he’s really doing. He misses being helpful… but then he wonders if perhaps he just misses feeling useful. He wants to do right by somebody, but does he just want to feel good? He doesn’t want to use another human life just to reassure himself. And he’d loathe to bring a child into this world just to test out if it’s some grand calling and then find himself feeling burdened. He doesn’t want to put a kid in the position of feeling like a burden.

He thinks about how they’ve adopted. How many kids there are out there who weren’t fortunate enough to have someone willing or able to care for them.

“I dunno, should I do that too?” He wonders out loud, mind stuck on adoption. “I don’t think I care if they look like me. Should I care if they look like me?”

Billy shrugs, brows a little furrowed. “I don’t think so, but aren’t normal people supposed to get like… revved up for that sort of thing?”

“Weird word choice there, pal.” Jonathan scrunches his nose up.

“You know what I mean.”

Jonathan guesses he does. He thinks of Nancy, because truthfully he’s not alone in this. He thinks of the way Nancy has always vehemently rebelled against what everyone expects of her. She always said she doesn’t want the nuclear family her parents forced upon themselves. He knows the struggles she’s had with all of that. And she would hold Jonathan sometimes too, on days where his anxiety would peak, and tell him that he didn’t have to put so much on his shoulders. He didn’t have to worry about the weight of everyone’s lives like that.

But maybe he wants to worry about something? Maybe he misses it, maybe he wants to help, maybe-

“Do you think it’d be easier to get Nancy to agree to that?” He’s still wondering aloud, still thinking of adoption. “It’d probably piss off her parents, and I bet she’d be happy about that… and should I think about my own mom? Does she want grandkids-”

“Joyce is just happy when she hears you’ve left the house.”

“Ha ha.” Jonathan deadpans as Billy chuckles. “I just… I don’t care if they come from me. I think I just want to help a little kid who was like me. Help someone feel understood-”

“Oh yeah, real selfish.” Billy scoffs, crunching on his fortune cookie, the paper inside discarded on the table along with the wrapper.

Jonathan sputters. “I’m serious! Is it- am I being-?”

“C’mon, Jonny boy.” Billy levels with him, looking about ready to slap Jonathan out of it if given even half the chance to. “You don’t know selfish. You’ve never known selfish a day in your life.”

And maybe that breaks Jonathan’s heart, too. He can’t think about that either.

“Well…” Jonathan tries, one final time, to get anything out of this other than an aching stomach. “What is it like for you?”

Billy blinks harshly at him. Jonathan presses on.

“I know this is hard for you, too.” Jonathan explains, trying to be understanding. “You’re like me, Billy. We both know that.”

And Jonathan hopes that Billy has aged enough to the point that he won’t run from this. That he won’t get too scared that he bolts away, excusing himself for something he doesn’t need just to evade feelings, like Jonathan always wants to do, too. They really are far too much alike-

“It’s… weird, man. It’s weird. It doesn’t stop… being weird.”

Jonathan remembers being teenagers. Remembers confiding in Billy. Remembers the chill of the grocery store. He tries to keep his chuckles quiet and to himself as Billy continues.

“Honestly, I don’t even feel like a dad yet.”

“What are you talking about? You are a dad-”

“Yeah, but people see our kid and he doesn’t look like us and they… people are idiots about it. Plus sometimes it feels like we didn’t even raise him. Or like we’re just playing house.”

Jonathan watches Billy rise and fall inside his own mind. He wonders if he should try to console him.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m messing him up every time I open my mouth.”

Jonathan remembers feeling like that with Will. The first time he ever made Will cry. Back when he was going through his awkward teenage phase and he had to push all his own emotions down to be a good role model. It hurt. It was far too difficult.

“I’m sure you’re not.” Jonathan tries to console, scooching just a millimeter closer to Billy. “I’m sure the worst you’re doing is exposing him to shitty music.”

That makes Billy laugh, but it also earns Jonathan a rough shove and a promise of “I’ll end, you, Jonny.”

“I dunno, all of it is hard.” Billy continues on with a sigh. He’s rubbing his palms together, and then anxiously picking at his jeans like he always did growing up. “He’s like a little puzzle we haven’t figured out yet. But I never question if it was worth it or not. And when he smiles, and I’m the reason… I don’t think there’s anything better than that.”

And Jonathan gets a front row seat to watch the smile that melts onto Billy’s face- like all is right with the world suddenly. Like there’s nothing that could ever taint what he’s feeling right at this moment. Jonathan thinks about how casually Billy mentions his son, even at what seems to be the most random times, and how much it plays with his heart.

Jonathan sees Billy relax in a way he’s not sure he’s ever seen before, and he thinks maybe he’s ready to figure out for himself exactly what a father is.

#jonathan byers #billy hargrove #jim hopper #lonnie byers #found family #stranger things #angst #emotional hurt comfort #fic #father's day #i know people don't necessarily like jonathan... #but this is where i come out not only as a jonathan apologist but a jonathan lover #no i don't support EVERYTHING he's done but we know better than most that the duffers are creepy idiots #who used their characters to relive high school (not so) glory days #i see a sad boy who loves his family more than anything and had to give up a lot of his childhood bc he felt he had to support them #that's it! that's all no more defending myself lmao! #i just also really like Billy and Jonathan being unlikely friends and brothers now <3 #they are BOTH my boys! #i dunno!!! just think about a young Jonathan interacting with Hop <3 #it's cute I love the byers I just!!! wanna squish em!!!!!!

[maddy-ferguson]

Ppl who think that jncy is 100% endgame and there was and is no feelings from nancy towards steve sounds like ppl who refuse to see that el, mike and will situation is a love triangle. I am sorreeey but it aint making sense with the logic here chief

not you sending this to me, someone who thinks there was and is no feelings from nancy to steve💔 i mean it's not like i think she was never into him i just don't think she ever Loved him. and continuing that line of thought, in season 4 i genuinely dooon't see her feeling anything deep enough for her to uproot her relationship with jonathan.

to me either way they brought stncy back to remind us that no relationship we've been used to since season 1 is safe.

which could mean, for this particular love triangle, that they're gonna have steve and nancy end up together (which just doesn't make sense. thematically. i don't see it happening. at all. which is why a lot of people aren't really worried about jncy). or that while stncy doesn't come back the relationship we've been used to since season 1 (jncy) is still not gonna be endgame. or that this is all gonna strengthen jncy and that the no relationship we've been used to since season 1 is safe thing only applies to mlvn

#but i know what you mean #to me it's still a little worrying lol but like i don't know! #it's just that a lot of the time people (myself included sometimes) go well stncy can't be endgame for this list of reasons which means #that jncy is. which doesn't really work for me because while you can say mlvn doesn't work for list of reasons thus bylr is endgame for #jncy...idk. the difference between the two is that mike not ending up with either would make no sense since he's only been with el and they #'introduced' will as a love interest for him in s4 right. but jonathan and nancy have been together. and are together. same with nancy #and steve obviously #it's just idk nancy's s1/2 love triangle obviously mirrors mike's but we're talking post-s2 jncy post-love triangle resolution #like they're doing their own thing now. i still don't think they're gonna have her be with steve again but her not being with steve doesn't #necessarily equal her being with jonathan yk? #they could be fine yes definitely but the love triangle coming back at all just makes me very unsure that they will be #but maybe it is a fake out and jncy are gonna stay together 4ever and the only 'main' couple everyone is gonna have to say goodbye to is #mlvn #i'm still 100% sure stncy is not endgame though and that will only change if i see nancy say wow steve i wanna raise your six nuggets in s5 #single nancy truther 4 life #ask

[lihhelsing]

"What do you mean you don't remember your first kiss?" Eddie asked, giving Steve that look he always got whenever he made the mistake of mentioning that piece of information about his past.

Steve shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and hoped Eddie would drop it. "I just don't remember it. Guess it wasn't memorable."

Eddie rolled his eyes, "You're telling me your first kiss wasn't memorable?"

"Yeah, man. It's whatever."

Now, both Eddie and Steve knew that was a lie. Not that Steve necessarily cared about something like a first kiss, but it bothered him that everyone seemed to have either a funny or sweet story to tell.

Like how Robin's first kiss had happened under a tree with her first girl crush, or how Nancy's first kiss only happened because the guy was kind of scared of her, or how Jonathan's first kiss only happened with Nancy.

"Do you remember yours?" Steve asked and Eddie nodded instantly.

"Of course I do."

Steve raised a brow at him and Eddie chuckled.

"It wasn't anything special, really. I kissed a guy under the bleachers and he never spoke to me again after that, the end."

Eddie was using that voice he always used whenever something bothered him.

"So it wasn't good," Steve said as he placed his hand on top of Eddie's. What was worse, not remembering your first kiss or feeling like shit about it?

"The kiss was ok. It was barely a kiss, I had no idea what to do with my hands and tongue and it was a little weird. Nothing to write home about, that's for sure. But I lost a friend that day and it really sucked. It made me think kisses are more powerful than they have any right to be."

And wasn't that the truth? Steve remembered other first kisses. Like his first kiss with Nancy, that he thought was gonna be the last first kiss of his life. He was wrong about that, of course.

"I know what you mean," Steve said. His hand was still on top of Eddie's but now Eddie was smiling.

And then he was grinning.

"I have an idea," he said, looking like a maniac. And Steve knew that couldn't be a good thing.

"Should I be scared?"

Eddie laughed. "Probably. What if..."

"Yeah?"

"We kissed."

Time seemed to stop for a second and then Steve was frowning at Eddie.

"What?"

"Yeah! Think about it, Steve," Eddie said, getting up. He always got restless when his brain started to work in full power. Steve thought it was kind of cute. "You can pretend this was your first kiss, so then when people tell you you can picture it and just make up some story about it."

Steve raised a brow, "I'm pretty sure that's not how first kisses work. Plus, what's in it for you? You remember your first kiss."

Eddie shrugged, throwing himself back on the couch and landing much closer to Steve than he was before. "Sure. But then I can will my brain to understand kisses don't have to mean something. This could just be a friendly kiss between two friends. Nothing else."

For some reason that didn't seem right, but Steve nodded anyway.

"Ok."

Eddie's eyes widened. "Ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Let's kiss and see what happens," Steve said. "What?"

Eddie bit his lower lip, "I don't know. I just didn't think you were gonna say yes."

Steve laughed, throwing his head back. Classic Eddie. His mouth was too big for his own good. Steve fucking loved it.

"Well, that's ok. I'll help you," Steve said, leaning in close.

He could see Eddie's eyelashes and the way his cheeks were tinted red. Steve placed a hand on the nape of his neck and heard the exact moment Eddies's breath hitched in his chest.

"Is this ok?" he asked. Eddie might talk a big talk but Steve wasn't about to cross any boundaries. If he said he was just joking Steve would pull back and pretend it had never happened.

But Eddie didn't, so Steve stayed. Close to him but still not kissing him.

"Y-yeah," Eddie said, nodding slightly. Steve smiled and buried his hand on Eddie's hair before leaning in and pressing their lips together.

The kiss was slow and sweet and Eddie was pliant on Steve's hand. For all his attitude, Steve kind of liked to shut him up like that.

Steve was about to pull back when Eddie whined in the back of his throat and pulled him close by the waist. He had no idea where all that came from but before he noticed he was straddling Eddie's lap and kissing him like his life depended on it.

Eddie tasted like cigarettes and Mountain Dew and Steve thought that combination might be his new favorite. He was so responsive as he kissed Steve back, opening his mouth and letting Steve explore as much as he wanted and all that while holding on to his hips.

Steve liked how Eddie's hands curled around him. Like they belonged there.

When it was becoming clear neither of them was interested in stopping, Steve pulled back so he could look at Eddie's face. All he could see was the pure want in his eyes.

"That's a pretty nice first kiss," Steve said playfully and Eddie snorted, squeezing at his waist.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm glad," Eddie smiled at him and it was the greatest thing ever. "I can't say the same for my part of the deal though."

Steve frowned. "What do you mean?"

Eddie let his head fall back into the couch and closed his eyes. Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest. Had Eddie hated the kiss?

When he opened his eyes there was an intensity behind them that made Steve want to get up and run.

"I can't pretend it doesn't mean anything, Stevie."

Oh.

Before he knew it, Steve was leaning in and stealing another kiss from Eddie's lips. This time when they parted Steve didn't bother moving too far from him.

"Then don't."

#steddie #idk #I just had a thought and ran with it #first kiss #steve harrington #Eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

[thethirdromana]

I'm going to preface this by saying that I don't know how much this actually holds up, but I've been thinking about how each of the Dracula characters perceives/judges other people.

Jack Seward judges people based on looks. I don't necessarily mean that he's shallow (though I think that can be part of his character!) but his judgment is all based on observation. He's the character who describes Mina's looks the most, he's preoccupied with Quincey and Arthur's manly appearance, and he's surprised when Jonathan's appearance doesn't match his character. As soon as Renfield looks less like Jack's idea of a madman, he immediately thinks he should be released from the asylum, even though Renfield tried to kill him less than two weeks earlier.

Van Helsing judges people based on role. We see that in his misjudged treatment of Mina: she has been assigned the role of Woman (wife/future mother) and the fact that she would be better off within the circle of men completely passes him by. Similarly Arthur gets assigned Son (to Van Helsing) and Husband (to Lucy). Quincey is Hero. Despite how their relationship has changed, Jack is still stuck in the role of Student.

Quincey judges people based on action. There's less to go on here, but his trust of Van Helsing is assured by Van Helsing's care of Lucy, and his friendship with Mina and Lucy is sealed, in both cases, with a kiss.

Arthur judges people based on emotion. Very slim pickings to demonstrate this given there's so little in this novel that's actually in Arthur's voice, but his connections with Mina, Van Helsing and Lucy all seem to take place at a more emotional level than those of the other suitors. Lucy presents Arthur's proposal as more emotional than those of the other suitors; he connects with Mina by sharing grief; and he is more emotionally reactive to Van Helsing's treatment of Lucy than the others.

Jonathan judges people based on... idk, I want to say kindness? I don't know how much of this is that he simply experiences more kindness (as well as more suffering!) than the other characters in the novel. But from the very beginning when the old woman gives him her crucifix, it feels like kindness is something that Jonathan responds to strongly, and unkindness too.

Lucy is trickier too because we don't see her judging people as much as the other characters, since she doesn't meet that many people for the first time on the page. She responds warmly to Van Helsing because he is good to her. I think there's an element of judging people based on social norms but I don't know how much that holds up.

And then there's Mina, who doesn't really fit into any of these patterns. She responds to looks (her physiognomic assessment of Van Helsing), to roles and social norms (accepting the men sidelining her, albeit unhappily), to emotion (the suitors' love of Lucy), to action (the men's protection of her).

I think this demonstrates once again that Mina is the very heart of the novel. She is the listener who hears both the bands; she compiles the text itself; she reflects the strengths of the group with (in Van Helsing's words) a man's brain and a woman's heart; and she spans many of the different ways that they judge, perceive and relate to people too.

#dracula daily #really don't know how much this holds up to further analysis #but i thought it might be a fun thought to throw out there

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I'm thinking about season one Steve, again. He never gave me the preppy popular vibe to me. I knew people like Tommy and Carol in high school. They weren't popular. They were outcasts who sat away from other people and exhibited gross weird behavior like propping their nasty feet up on the table. In season one, they mention that the game is about to start, but if Tommy and Steve were on the team, shouldn't they already be ready, you know? Maybe it was a different game. Did they ever actually say that he was on the basketball team, or is that something we just assumed? I know they said he was on the swim team. And I know that they showed him playing basketball in season 2, but that didn't necessarily mean he was on the team.

Anyway, I think because Steve was rich with good hair, nice clothes, and good with the ladies that people thought he was this asshole jock who bullied people. I mean, occasionally, he would show up to parties and show off his keg king skills, but for the most part, I think he was as much a loner as Jonathan was. He had two friends, and that was it. People called him king, and so with that title came the expectations of knowing everyone. Everyone wanted his attention, even Robin, but they never even bothered to try to get to know him. They just put that ball into his court. For the most part, though, I think he was this dorky outcast who just wanted to goof off with his friends and wanted so badly to stop feeling lonely even when he was around other people. I think he stopped feeling lonely when Dustin came into his life. Anyway, I just think what people know about Steve is just assumptions that they made about him like they made about Eddie. I like that in season 4 that Eddie admitted he made that assumption about Steve, that he was wrong, and that he told Steve that he was a good dude. It's why I love Steddie so goddamn much. Not even Robin said it out loud. I mean, I love platonic Stobin, but I hated it when she said that he was such an asshole for not paying attention to her in class. I mean, I get that she was jealous because of Tammy, but come on, does that mean just because he was popular that he has to know everyone in the goddamn school? In a way, though. I do like it because it shows that Robin isn't perfect, and I think later she sort of realizes it in the bathroom, but I don't think she ever apologized out loud for making that assumption about Steve like everyone else does. She also did say that people like her also wanted his attention. There was just something about Steve. I mean, yeah, he is a bitch but I love that about him but then again so is Robin, so is Eddie. I think that's why I always have them hanging out because, in a way, they're so much better for him than Tommy and Carol ever were. There's not this expectation of being perfect or being popular and Steve can be as bitchy as he wants with them because they'll bitch right back. It's their love language. To sum it up, Steve was an outcast in his own way. He just had a big house, rich parents, and women wanting to be with him. And I'm just really tired of Steve having to keep apologize for that. He apologized for the theater thing and what he said to Jonathan, and then he risked his life for them. He has nothing to apologize for anymore. People keep making him do that in fanfictions too, and it's so annoying. There needs to be a Steve Harrington apology tour in season 5 where everyone apologizes to him instead of the other way around.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington character study #steve harrington s1 #stranger things s1 #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steddie #rueleigh's thoughts

[vickyvicarious]

Oh my God, so if I understood correctly Mina Murray and Jonathan would send letters to each other in SHORTHAND before they got engaged? That's so nerdy and also romantic.

YES. It's just straightforward canon (well, not the "before they got engaged" bit, necessarily, but the letters):

He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad.

The shorthand becomes useful later, and in fact they both take it up with the expectation of it being useful in Jonathan's career (and Mina working with him). But that is only one factor. Another equally strong component, I am utterly convinced is that these two nerds both find it fun.

I bet they started sending the shorthand to one another as little postscripts. Jonathan writes a letter to Mina and ends with a shorthand note: "PS - As you can see, my shorthand is improving rapidly. How is yours coming along?" She answers back with a full final paragraph in shorthand: "As you can see, I am learning as quickly as I can! It still takes me a little while to translate, but I like to think I am all the more thorough for the time. I can't help but notice you misspelled 'rapidly' in your last letter." (It's a cute little prank, Jonathan did in fact write the word correctly, but she makes him go back and double-check and then they both laugh about it and they just progress from writing little bit notes like this to filling up more and more until they're writing the whole letter in shorthand. Justifying that they are 'getting in practice' even though they obviously are just having tons of fun, the nerds)

I also love the idea of them being a little more openly romantic in their letters when writing in shorthand - though Jonathan one time does send a note like, "please, I'm not the only person at the office who can read shorthand, you can't send that kind of thing to my work!!!" and Mina had to answer back like, "all I said was that I looked forward to spending more time with you after our wedding, it was perfectly innocent. Unless you took it some other way...?" And then Jonathan revenging himself with some really dramatic prose praising her at great romantic length with the justification that he knows her coworkers can't read shorthand so she won't have any problem with it. Meanwhile she is reading it during her lunch break all blushy and kind of getting where he's coming from because he didn't write anything salacious but it still feels scandalous! But she loves the letter and reads it ten times that day anyways.

I dunno, just! Them being cute and in love!

(Also I definitely imagine them as the kind of people to take advantage of the mail throughout the day. They don't constantly write little notes to one another, but they also don't let the fact that they can see each other in person later stop them if they feel the urge to share a snippet of their day.)

#dracula daily #jonmina #anonymous #replies

[see-arcane]

"a century and a half of him being a cowardly weakling who sometimes cheats" - about Jonathan Harker in one of previous asks I'm sorry, but that's not even true. Jonathan wasn't always some cowardly weakling in media. He wasn't a cowardly weakling in 1970 Count Dracula adaptation or in 1977 BBC adaptation or in that Czechoslovakian 1971  adaptation or in 1953 Turkish one - he was brave and badass in those. And even if you don't like 1992 version, Jonathan was not weakling there either - he was brave, he was badass chasing Dracula across snowy Transylvania with others and even cut his throat, mortally wounding him. It's an exaggeration to claim Jonathan has always been a cowardly weaking in media.

I don't know what specific ask you're referring to and I don't like my odds of sifting through the pile to find the exact quote, but it's a sentiment that's appeared in a few of my rambles before, so I'll take your word that it's floating around somewhere.

First, thank you for bringing up four whole Dracula adaptations where Jonathan Harker is done some justice that have never crossed my radar. The 1970 version has Christopher Lee himself as the Count, so it seems like a promising watch on principle, and I think I vaguely recall the 1977 BBC being mentioned as a hidden gem adaptation that actually brushed closer to the book's canon. The Czechoslovakian and Turkish versions I will trust you on, as my media saturation is drowning in 'murrican schlock. I will even give the 1992 Jonathan credit for letting Keanu have a fraction of Jonathan's character in Coppola's laughably named 1992 fanfiction.

But the thing is, those are five movies. Five whole movies you could point to in a very very very long list of Dracula media. Five where Jonathan is allowed to possess one sliver of his canonical self's character, courage, strength, and ability. I will say the line you picked is one to be rightfully upset about, if only because it isn't right to be angry over 'a century and a half of him being a cowardly weakling.' Fear is part of Jonathan's character.

Jonathan Harker was terrified for his entire stay with the Count. That is in canon. Then he escapes, goes through his magical girl transformation in reaction to Mina being attacked, and winds up beheading the Count. Him starting out afraid is key to his character arc and the catharsis of the climax.

An arc that is--and I will bet money on this--almost entirely gutted even in the four adaptations I wasn't aware of. I know it for a fact in the 1992 film. Keanu was given the same acting directions and script in the movie as you'd give a slice of dry toast or a broom.

Because, as has been the case in far more movies, shows and books with Dracula as a starring role, Jonathan Harker may not necessarily become a coward, but he is always, always gutted. Dracula becomes the dark seducer, now with Coppola's rendition becoming the norm ala 'blaspheming for love,' courtesy of stealing Jonathan's driving passion in the third act. Van Helsing becomes Dracula's badass personal nemesis, courtesy of robbing Jonathan and Mina of that co-owned role.

Yes, Jonathan is sometimes remembered, but it's a coin toss as to whether he gets to A) Participate in the narrative beyond filling screen space, B) Be interesting, C) Be faithful (and not a cookie cutter Victorian Man (c) cliche to poor Mina who needs a REAL VAMPIRE MAN, D) Have any of his importance as one half of the protagonist team with Mina acknowledged without handing everything to Van Helsing. You can only ever have one. If you're lucky.

When people think of the Dracula media of today, or last decade, or the decade before that, and before that, who besides people who have actually read the book would think Jonathan Harker matters as a character? As the guy who opens and closes the story? As the guy who spent two months in captivity with Dracula, as the only person to have actual dialogue with him beyond a single villain rant? As the guy who did not just scratch Dracula's throat, but actively sent him running for his unlife in Piccadilly and ultimately chopped his head off?

The most he's gotten in recent years are the scraps that Moffat tossed him in his latest self insert OCified take on Dracula in his 2020 series, if we ignore the massive middle finger of a send off he gets in the first episode. Or we could look at the 2013 series' lovely depiction of Jonathan (now a jealous prick) and Lucy (an unfulfilled lesbian) having angry-cheating sex about Mina not being into them. Or 2022's The Invitation, featuring Count Ken Doll and his helpers, the elderly Harkers who are also his minions who attack and offer up an innocent girl to his Bride-cult. Or the 1999-2007 comic series of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Alan 'lol Jonathan Harker is a milksop' Moore, who wrote Mina has his own personal SA fetish stand-in while Jonathan is mercifully off-screen, having ditched Mina because he thought her vampire bite scars were ugly. Or we could give Anno Dracula a read and see Kim Newman's special warm welcome and farewell to the Harkers within the first few pages.

Or we could go back to the beginning. All the way to Tod Browning and F.W. Murnau.

Browning's Dracula of 1931 is, like Coppola's 1992 flick, one of, if not the most immediately recognized version of Dracula there is in cinema. Its climax features Jonathan Harker prancing around a crypt looking for Mina while Van Helsing stakes the Count. (I am being literal. The man is practically skipping. I know, I know, film acting wasn't at its peak back then, but come on.)

Murnau and the very definitely for sure not Dracula with its serial numbers filed off 1922 film, Nosferatu, has Orlok being appropriately menacing and weird at the Jonathan Harker stand-in of 'Thomas Hutter,' who is theatrically terrified--but at least one half of an earnestly loving couple with Mina Ellen Hutter!--and then gets sent away by Ellen on a ruse so she can die tricking Orlok into his death by sunrise.

Jonathan Harker mincing uselessly around while Van Helsing gets the work done.

Jonathan Harker quailing and afraid, contributing nothing to the Count's (or doppelganger thereof) destruction.

Jonathan Harker, however effete or earnest or able, loses the girl to the dark dramatic seducer.

This was the foundation people were given for this character well before anyone bothered to pick up the book. And much of that audience didn't bother. Same for the generations to follow. There's a reason the Dracula Daily wave has surprised, enthralled, and enraged so many new readers who thought that 126+ years of multiple mediums had to be working from some bedrock of comparison in the book, only to find how much had been erased or warped out of recognition.

I would be here all day if I threw myself into all the comic book adaptations. All the spinoff novels. The entire filmography and its neighboring heap of TV series. Even I'm not dedicated enough to comb through every single page and scene just to be reminded of how routinely snubbed or bastardized this character--and, honestly, the whole cast--is as time marches on and the writers and directors behind new Dracula media become increasingly detached from the actual content of the novel, relying only on pop culture osmosis and Wiki pages for Coppola's movie.

Anyway. I suppose it isn't perfectly fair to say Jonathan Harker has been portrayed as a coward through the century and a quarter of Dracula film, TV, and print in every single depiction.

But there is enough saturation in the trends of contemporary media that any crumbs the 20th century offered to him are drowned out to the point that we need a microscope to find them. And even if we're not talking contemporary?

I think it's telling that the examples you gave, bar what I can't not read as a hell of a stretch with 90's Keanu, form a list of four examples out of 126 years' worth of media.

#hope you guys like text walls #in all honesty I would love for some surprise Jonathan Harker-friendly recs to come out of the woodwork #I will try to find those four unknown examples if I can #or at least some synopses to see if I need to brace for some BS foisted on the rest of the cast #but yeah #I have Feelings about my good friend Jonathan Harker #jonathan harker #dracula #adaptation

[goosemixtapes]

max's favorite short stories & articles!

to be updated as i read new things! "articles" could be anything from political points to philosophical musings to fascinating stories. obligatory statement that i don't necessarily agree with everything in every one of these stories/articles, but i think about them a lot and want to share :)

short stories

Avi Cantor Has Six Months To Live by Sacha Lamb (@kuttithevangu) (novella) (so says the writing on the bathroom mirror. of gender & judaism & magic and t4t trans guys. cw for suicidal ideation and bullying)

Epistolary by Sascha Lamb ("The [stuffed] frog you are selling on your blog is MINE and he is NOT HAUNTED and his name is MOSHE not BILLY HOPPER.")

Chokechain by Andrew Joseph White (a trans man discovers his parents have replaced him with a robot version of his pretransition self. cw for transphobia and violence)

Sandrine by Alexandra Munck (the tagline for this one is "I dated a sun god in college" but that doesn't do justice to the sheer concept here please read this)

The Traveler Wife by yves. @yvesdot (an astronaut writes to the wife she left back home)

You Wouldn't Have Known About Me by Calvin Gimpelevich (set in a hospital ward where patients are recovering from gender-confirming surgery)

No Flight Without the Shatter by Brooke Bolander (novella) ("After the world’s end, the last young human learns a final lesson from Earth’s remaining animals." cw for climate change/extinction)

And You Shall Know Her By The Trail Of Dead by Brooke Bolander (what if you had to death-match-fight a virtual version of yourself at your meanest made by your boyfriend whose life you're trying to save would that be fucked up or what. cws for guns and violence)

Hell is the Absence of God by Ted Chiang (stories that clock you in the fucking teeth in the religious trauma.)

A Serpent for Each Year by Tamara Jerée (microfiction) ("Our relationship is almost a year old when I ask Nal why she is covered in snakes." cw for animal death)

The Front Line by W.C. Dunlap (microfiction) (cited as one of the world's finest attention-grabber openings. cws for police brutality, racism, and SA)

Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience by Rebecca Roanhorse (step into the simulation and gain an authentic experience! cws for anti-Native racism and alcohol)

articles & essays

Lockhart's Lament (on how math is taught in schools. that is, badly. one of the most cathartic essays i've ever read on education)

Against Cop Shit by Jeffrey Moro (on adversarial education)

I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out. by Jennifer Coates (do you have to be out to be a woman? cw for transphobia, homophobia, and eating disorders)

Debunking "Trans Women Are Not Women" Arguments by Julia Serano (comprehensive, well-written, good to have as a reference point)

On Liking Women by Andrea Long Chu (and on the politics of desire)

Turning a Unicorn Into a Bat by Josh and Lolly Weed (on Mormonism, love, and whether a gay man and a straight woman can marry happily. cw for homophobia)

Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price (musings on motivation from a social psychologist and professor)

How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation by Anne Helen Peterson (how come everything happens so much?)

White Women Drive Me Crazy by Aisha Mirza (on the harm caused by white women. cw for racism)

Everything You Know About Obesity Is Wrong by Michael Hobbes (should be required reading for everyone at this point. cw for fatphobia and eating disorders)

Becoming Anne Frank by Dara Horn (on the cultural fascination with Anne Frank. cw for antisemitism)

The Ecstasy of Influence by Jonathan Lethem ([on/a] plagiarism)

On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People by Patricia Taxxon (video essay) (ostensibly what the title says, but actually a detailed musing on the essential properties of furry media and the freedom of dehumanization; changed my life a bit)

#max.txt #yayayayayay :) #i've decided i'm going to start doing the 'what i read this month' thing #so this is like #my base to come backt o and update when i find new favorites #readings

[bugsbenefit]

i'm mmmmh still thinking thoughts (it's about the poster, of course it is, been fascinated by that since s4)

the last few minutes of every season always drop some major hints for the next season that are pretty explicit in hindsight. some examples

s1 shows the baby slugs Will coughs up that come back in s2, hints El might still be alive when Hopper leaves Eggo waffles out in the forest, and gives Nancy a sweet moment with Jonathan despite still dating Steve, s2 has El living with Hopper and J/ancy going canon

s2 shows the mindflayer looming over the school -> meatflayer is the main threat of s3 (as well as s2 having lumax and mleven dancing who will both be established couples by the start of s3)

s3 ends with the Byers moving away and Max sitting alone in Billy's room, s4 then has the Byers living in California be a major plotpoint as well as Max's trauma around Billy's death almost killing her

and so on you get it. in hindsight there will obviously be some pretty major hints in the last 10 minutes of s4

and some already seem pretty straight forward. obviously the gates opening is the big thing, the UD will be a focus in s5. the camera lingering on the church and Jason's bible quote outside also seems like it's a pretty solid nudge at the vibe in town next season. also things like the hill scene in general with the coupled grouping (doesn't even have to be about "endgames" necessarily, would also make sense as main groups of s5, since they're split into adults, teens (now young adults), and kids (teens) again)

but the whole blood thing going on in the last 10 minutes that comes out of nowhere? i want to know where that is going

we already had a ton of blood in s4, with the lab massacre and nose bleeds for the Vecna victims. so why does the donating blood theme come up after all that, what happens in s5 that makes it warrant the blood teaser (that sounds horrible) when s4 already had so much of it? and it's not just blood in general, there's a very specific focus on "giving" blood, however you want to interpret that

the poster in the hospital room already feels extremely foreshadowy in s4 given how bold it's written, how it's the only legible text on screen, and how it's in the negative space of the blocking the whole time so your eyes are drawn to it

but it's not even just that one poster either. in case you missed that one or didn't bother reading it in the hospital they also give you the blood donations promo table that the shot lingers on, that has so many posters begging for your blood it's not even funny anymore. and hey, even for those not reading background posters, there's 4 separate blood drop graphics so you definitely know they want blood, the show seems to really really want people to acknowledge it

and now they use the same exact poster from these last 10 minutes again? in another location? that's more focus on it than even i expected what are we going for here

be a hero give blood you say? on the show with the constant allusions to being a hero? "heroes" by david bowie, superheroes and powers, "don't try to be heroes" only for Eddie to die when he breaks his own advice? all of s4 was about how you shouldn't try to be a hero and that running away is okay. Max also almost dies when she stops running to distract Vecna. girl you know someone is fucked with that poster, that's a set up screaming for disaster (it's also not lost on me how even the stage show has a focus on blood and !TFS SPOILER! as far as i know Brenner senior even dies after not being able to receive blood donations due to his now abnormal blood type anymore. so there's some weird focus on blood going on even outside of the in show canon now, even specifically about giving blood, or well, not being able to give blood in this case. no one was a hero and gave blood in tfs i guess lmao. what are they cooking here)

the poster is also so vague there's so many ways this can be horrible for the characters. in the actual blood donation to save someone way? would be kind of tame but who knows what lore/plot s5 will deliver. in the sacrifice yourself/get injured to save someone way? or a secret third thing we don't have enough context to guess yet?

be a hero give blood my ass. who's giving blood for what tell me now. also how bad will "giving blood" be for them

#that poster had me kicking my feet for months and now it's coming back? oh i'm so (ab)normal about that #no but the constant mentions of blood coming up right at the end when the show enters the 'tease the next season' timeslot #concerning as hell #it's giving sacrifice of some kind #or at least bad injury #but who knows well see #also thinking of that poster always makes the stav post about it and the whole dead and missing broadcast and mike come back to me #it's windows screensavering in my brain again #st5 speculation #st s5 #st5 leaks

[thestrangestthing89]

This is long and I'm mostly just trying to explain why I think it's important for El to have a stable family life rather than a romance at this point. Her interpersonal relationships have been pretty rocky. I think the way she forms relationships with other people is realistic considering she spent the first 12 years of her life living in a science lab. We know now that there were other kids there with her, but they weren't friends. She was bullied and isolated. She had a brief friendship with Kali during this time but Kali left. We don't know too much about the timeline here. And El forgot about a lot of this. So for the most part, she was alone here. And after age 7, it was her and Brenner and some other lab employees. She was the only kid. It was obviously an abusive environment and she was forced to do things she didn't want to do until she escaped. She had minimal interaction with kids her own age up until she was 7 and this wasn't a positive experience. But she forgets this. She doesn't remember interacting with other kids.

When she escapes from the lab, Benny is the first person who she comes across who is nice to her. She's understandably distrustful of him at first but just as she is starting to warm up to him, he gets killed. Because the lab went looking for her and he got in the way.

When she comes across Lucas, Dustin, and Mike these are the first kids she probably remembers ever seeing (except Will?!?! she recognized his picture). She has trouble communicating with them and we see this from the flashbacks in the lab too. She doesn't have a lot of socialization so it's hard for her to explain herself.

This interaction with the boys isn't necessarily positive. It's good that she is out of the lab and found people who could help her but she is still being used as a useful tool. A weapon. Just like at the lab. And it's not just the boys, it's Joyce, Hopper, Jonathan, and Nancy too. They need her to find Will and Barb. And she does this voluntarily. I think she feels guilty for opening the gate. And it's something that tends to drive her to help everyone in later seasons too. So while everyone in this group is a lot nicer to her than the lab, she still has a purpose here. They need her.

It makes sense to me that she would get fixated on Mike during this time. She spend a little more time with him than Lucas and Dustin since she was at his house. He told her about the world and gave her things to look forward to (like a place to live and the Snow Ball). He's mostly nice to her during this time, but he isn't always. When she fails to find Will he gets mean. This is not unlike Brenner. For the record, I'm not saying Mike is abusive. He's 12 and doesn't understand her situation at all and he's scared. But the fact that she doesn't want to run away from him even though he isn't always nice to her is a problem. Because she is used to this behavior. She is used to being punished when she doesn't use her powers well. She's used to getting locked in a room, so Mike abandoning her on the side of the road would have been familiar.

Lucas does apologize for being mean to her and she apologizes for hurting him. The two of them don't have any issues in later seasons. But her and Mike consistently do (and there are no apologies made between the two). And a lot of that has to do with him still viewing her as a superhero and not knowing the impact that that has on her (because I don't think she ever told him).

Her time with Hopper after this is also complicated. The kid spent about a month living in the woods alone in the freezing cold before he found her. From what we know of their year together, it was mostly good. They played board games, watched tv together, and Hopper read to her and helped teach her things. It's the first somewhat stable home she's had. I say somewhat because while this is a much better situation to the lab, she is still locked in here. For a year. Mostly by herself. She spies on Mike a lot because she is lonely.

Her and Hopper start having problems when their communication breaks down. When she first moved into the cabin it seemed like she would only have to hide temporarily. But it's been a year. She understandably wants to leave but Hopper is scared. He doesn't have control of this situation. When he apologizes to her later, he explains himself a lot better than he does during this fight. He says some awful things here (that he'll send her back to the lab). He's grieving and depressed and isn't handling this situation well. Hopper isn't great at communicating his feelings when he's upset. He does this to Joyce and Mike in S3. He struggles with this for a lot of reasons.

But this is El's model for fighting. She's allowed to yell at Hopper in a way she was never allowed to with Brenner. So in that sense it's a good thing. She doesn't have to hold back. It shows she isn't scared of him. I don't believe for a second that Hopper would have ever sent her back to the lab. He was frustrated and said something he didn't mean and he does apologize for this later. But this is how she learned how to communicate her problems to people. Hopper wasn't giving her what she needed and she found out he lied. She then runs away. For the second time in her life she runs away from her home. The lab situation was obviously a lot more problematic, but this one to me had a lot to do with Hopper not communicating well and letting fear take over. Which I think is partly why El does come back home. Hopper is probably the first person she formed any long term relationship with (besides Brenner). She spent a year with him during a time when they were both struggling. So it was a tense situation. She finds very brief periods of feeling at home at her mothers house and then with Kali but doesn't feel like she belongs with either. She runs away from both situations. The Kali one was a little more dangerous but she is scared at her mothers when she overhears her aunt calling Hoppers police station. She isn't ready to go home yet.

El doesn't really feel like she belongs anywhere and part of the reason she returns to Hawkins is because they are in trouble and she can protect them. Her superpowers give her a role here. People need her to save them. They need her.

So El at this point has run away from 4 places that she considered home (the lab, the cabin, her mother, and Kali). I'm not including Mike's here because she was only there for a few days and it wasn't her home so much as a temporary shelter. She was planning to stay with her mother and then Kali for a while. She also didn't choose to leave Mike's and had to because it wasn't safe.

Season 3 puts her in a very different situation. She's at the cabin but she has the opportunity to have a somewhat normal life. Only she doesn't really. And it's because she is fixated on Mike. Up until this point El pretty much forms bonds with one person at a time. Briefly Mike in S1, Hopper for a year in S2, and briefly her aunt and Kali. There are other people around but she doesn't bond with Kali's friends or with Lucas and Dustin as much, mostly because she doesn't know them long. She only spends time with them for a few days.

So now when she is allowed to leave the cabin and see other people...she stays in the cabin with Mike. All the time. Honestly, Hopper is right to be annoyed and worried about this. He doesn't handle the situation well, but calling it unhealthy was correct considering all the other shit she's been through. And Hopper has a much better idea of what El has been through than Mike. I'm not sure Mike fully gets what happened to her in the lab. I don't think anyone ever told him, which is why he still calls her a superhero. He doesn't get that it's bad in this case.

But El now has the opportunity to form other friendships and she doesn't. She doesn't know how. Her relationship experiences are limited and boil down to what she's seen on tv and those aren't realistic. So it's not bothering her to run off with Mike and ditch anyone else. It's interesting to me that Mike gets himself a girlfriend who has no clue that his behavior isn't normal. He wants to ditch his friends and hide away in the cabin every day, he stands still with his eyes open and doesn't move when she kisses him, and when he does kiss her back it's awkward. He's far away and he's moving her hands off him, and interrupting constantly to sing or piss off Hopper. They are things that only someone with limited relationship experience would ever look past. El doesn't know any better.

When Mike lies to her, she responds the way she did when Hopper lied to her in S2. She runs off and ditches him. She finds herself a BFF. She previously ignored Max. Her behavior toward her in S2 wasn't ok. She hurts her and ignores her for no reason other than she saw her talking to Mike. It's possessive and it's because she is lonely and she doesn't know how to form healthy relationships with people. Thankfully she lets up on this and realizes it was a mistake and lets Max in. It's unclear exactly what changed her mind here. She immediately goes to Max when she's confused about Mike and they probably had some interaction over the few months since the Snow Ball. But this is clearly the first time they hang out together. Maybe it was just loneliness that drove her to go to her house? It drives a lot of her attachments to people.

It's a relationship that is good for both of them but I want to point out that this season it's focused on El. She is centered here. El is once again getting the world explained to her because she doesn't know something. In this case, she doesn't know what she likes. SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SHE LIKES. She is 14 years old and this is the first time in her life that someone prompted her to think about what she likes. She is dressing the way that she wants to for the first time.

El mimics people in the way that little kids do when they are trying to understand the world. So in this case she mimics Max. And when she runs into Mike she does what Max told her to do - she dumps his ass. Sometimes this is a justified response. But in this case Mike isn't given much of a chance to explain - Hopper is largely to blame for a lot of this situation but Mike does make a lot of excuses for himself. However, El isn't willing to hear any of this out. She dismisses him and ignores him being upset that he was spied on. She is doing what Max would do and in this case that's not exactly what's best. Max is 14 and hardly a relationship expert herself and El still isn't communicating well. She doesn't even tell Mike why she is upset with him either or how the lying made her feel. It's not a conversation so much as her having a girlboss moment. It's not one that actually fixes any problems. She still doesn't know how to do that.

When Hopper dies and she's left without a home and her powers she decides to get back together with Mike. He's familiar and once again her loneliness drives this decision. His opinion is also not asked for. And she doesn't notice his awkward fumbling over the I love you declaration. Another thing that would have been a red flag to anyone who has been in a relationship before (I mean he point blank said it was heat of the moment stuff and tried to pretend he forgot). In S4, She has a new family now and it's somewhere completely new. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Being in Lenora gave her a chance to have a normal life. She got to be a regular kid - one without powers who gets to go to school. But this situation leaves her feeling vulnerable. She's away from Max - the first positive relationship she's had, and she's getting bullied. She fixates on her bullies and makes it sound like they are friends, I think so she can feel like she belongs.

Because this is the first time El is confronted with the fact that she's different and kind of weird. Sure the boys said so when they first found her in S1, but she started dressing like everyone else so that was fixed. This group fully accepted El and her idiosyncrasies in a way that most people don't. This is the first time she interacts with a lot kids her own age and it's very obvious that she is behind academically and developmentally. She spent her childhood in a lab so this makes sense. But the other kids are awful about it. She is in a very vulnerable place here and feels defenseless.

I am assuming she didn't form much of a relationship with Jonathan during this time because he even pulled away from Will. Joyce was likely there for her and knew that she missed Hopper so they probably talked about it. But she does leave suddenly with little explanation. It was for a good reason but feeds into El's abandonment and vulnerability.

And I don't think her and Will were very close. They went to school together and probably talked about that, but Mike is unintentionally between them and making it hard for them to bond. So I think El probably felt alone a lot of the time. Her and Will clearly care about each other and are relieved to reunite, but I don't get the impression that they are friends. And a lot of that has to do with El not really knowing how to be still. Because when Mike shows up she completely ignores Will. She knows the two are friends but he is very much a third wheel here. She's never really had a relationship with more than one person at once before. Mike was struggling with this in S3 but he has the benefit of having friendships his whole life, so he's able to correct this more easily.

But she ignores Will's feelings and on the surface so does Mike (though he was paying very close attention to him the whole time). But she's also not really considering Mike's either. She decided they were getting back together without talking to him and gets mad at him for not saying he loves her. She fights with Mike the way she does with Hopper. A lot of yelling and hurt feelings. She dismisses his experience with bullying because she can only see her own pain. The miscommunication happening here is entirely El. Mike starts off this in the way that he should. He does the same thing to Will later. But Will responds in an emotionally mature way and El doesn't because she doesn't know how to. So the conversation quickly devolves into an argument.

She ends up running away from home once again. She runs away when there are problems. Sometimes, like the lab, that is the correct response. But sometimes, like here, it's because she doesn't know how to work through her problems with people. She doesn't know how to have those conversations because she never learned. She runs back to the lab because she's feeling vulnerable and alone. She also hears that people in Hawkins need her. She's their only hope. It's kind of an impulsive choice to go. She doesn't spend much time thinking about it and when she gets there and realizes Brenner is there she tries to get out. It's interesting to consider what would have happened had Joyce been in Lenora when this went down. I don't think she would have just let Owens take her and it may have made her not want to go (at least not alone).

But part of the reason why she wants to is because she feels like she has no purpose without her powers. And people need her when she does have them. She likes to be needed. Mike says a lot of similar things. He needs El to need him. He feels useless when she doesn't. It's not good that either of them think like this. She goes through a very traumatic thing once again and resurfaces memories that she forgot about. El never got the chance to deal with any of her lab trauma. She's young and likely didn't talk about any of it with anyone. But this has such a huge impact on her emotional well-being. Her self-worth is tied to her powers, and her powers are tied to her abuse, but at this point she is realizing she doesn't want to be a superhero. She does get some closure with Brenner though which is a good thing. I think it puts her in a place where she is starting to heal for the first time. But she's unable to save Max, a person who she has grown to care about a lot. She wasn't able to be the hero this time.

Which leaves El in an interesting place moving forward. Because Mike liking that she's a superhero is a big problem and her not being able to save Max is going to hurt her self-esteem. Mike calling her a superhero is something he doesn't notice is a problem because he thinks it's cool. And when he's called Dustin and Will that in the past they liked it. But he doesn't know her lab origin story. So he doesn't understand that her powers are tied to abuse and it's not an empowering thing for her to be called this. Mike and Brenner's attitudes toward her powers are similar - not the same. Both think it's interesting and useful that she can do this. Mike in a more childlike way where he idolizes superheroes. And Brenner in a creepy mad, scientist way.

So after knowing all of this. After knowing everything El has been through. How can anyone suggest that El needs to be in a romantic relationship with Mike? Because she has had nothing but an unstable childhood full of trauma. And obviously because of this, she doesn't know how to form healthy relationships with people or handle problems well. It isn't her fault. No one taught her. She didn't get to learn the way the rest of us do. But it doesn't change the fact that she struggles with this. It doesn't change the fact that Will and Mike have both had their feelings dismissed by her and she didn't notice or apologize. And it doesn't change the fact that what she actually needs is a stable, normal life. Which is why it is so so important that she now has a family. And it's so important that she learns to form relationships with people. Her and Max haven't spent that much time together, but it's also important that she spend more time with the rest of the group too.

I always assumed that El had Post-Institution Syndrome but I don't think that's ever been confirmed. I think it's far more interesting for her to go through this journey and end the series with a stronger sense of self and a stable support system than it would be for her to have a boyfriend she doesn't communicate with or understand. It would show character growth in a way that a romantic relationship just wouldn't at this point for her.

I think she's at the point where she is realizing this herself. She wants distance from Mike at the end of the season and she is happy to be reunited with her family. She deserves her lost childhood back.

Edit: Apparently this kind of post qualifies as El hate. This post explains why it's not.

#el hopper #stranger things #byler #anti mileven

[itswhatyougive]

I'm going to go out on a major limb and suggest that Nancy is a way likelier candidate of clocking what was happening between Eddie and Steve than Robin.

It seems like a lot of people assume that because Robin is a lesbian, she had some automatic gaydar for Eddie, but I don't necessarily think so.

Robin looks perplexed or pulls a face when Eddie flirts in front of Steve

In contrast, there are several moments in S4 where Nancy's reaction to a Steddie interaction is subtly captured. She is an aspiring investigative journalist and she is OBSERVANT.

A lingering hand, the close proximity to one another, the sustained eye contact...she sees it!

And lots of people thought that Nancy's smiley comments to Jonathan about Steve growing up a lot at the end of Vol. 2 suggested that she was back to thinking of Steve as a romantic option and I VEHEMENTLY DISAGREE. Their goals are wildly different and she knows that.

Rather, aside from just acknowledging that Steve was maturing and responsible with the kids, I think that was a very subtle allusion to the fact that she had clocked Steve "expanding his horizons" with Eddie in contrast to how he called Jonathan a queer in S1.

#and yeah i do think that she has some experience with this #because she has been watching the gay tension unfold for years with will and her brot-(GUNSHOTS) #lmao #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie analysis #steddie hcs #st analysis #stranger things analysis #st4 rewatch #steddie fandom #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #platonic edancy #nancy wheeler analysis #jancy analysis

[riddlesrhymesandfear]

Riddler, Scarecrow, and Mad Hatter headcannons for when they are put into an Escape Room with their crush. The assigning of pairs for the escape rooms are completely random, and by son coincidence they got put in the same one. How'd they react?

Summary: Mad Hatter, Riddler, and Scarecrow being randomly assigned to their crush in an escape room. (2nd person/ gender neutral)

A/n: I'd like to be the first to say that I'be never been in an escape room, so I apologize if any of these seem far-fetched. However, I was interested and had some minor ideas. And I may had gotten a little ahead of myself with Jonathan’s.. :))

*cutlass is a sword that was commonly used by sailors and pirates through 17th-19th century.

||> Mad Hatter

It must be fate—destiny's work, it must think you two are meant for each other! That's what Jervis thinks, but has some semblance of thinking skills to keep that to himself, even if it's very obvious how delighted he is to have been randomly paired up with you for the escape room.

He is one of those rare people that can actually multitask, so while he's going around the room with you looking for clues, he's chattering absently. It's nice, even if it may be a little distracting for you.

"—And you wouldn't believe the time it took, fixing the chips on my cards after that whole mess! It would've taken less effort to make new ones, of course, but they still had some use to them. You understand what I mean, don't you?"

You nod your head in response, pulling out on of the books from the bookshelf. The clue from the desk pointed over here, so surely it had to be one of these books— You stiffened upon feeling Jervis' hand on your arm, his other hand's forefinger out and running along the spines of the other books on a shelf higher. "What was the clue again?" he asked, eyes running along the titles on the binds before he looked at you.

Blinking away the surprise from a moment ago, you returned your gaze to the book in your hands. "'Among neighbors in a makeshift-complex, one stands alone with its call to adventure,'" you quoted, thumbing the cover of the book before sliding it back into its slot. Jervis hummed in reply, his hand leaving your shoulder to tap his cheek as he pondered. Your gaze flitted between the titles, before stopping at one in particular—above the title was a small illustration of a cutlass* near the top of the spine.

There was slight amusement on your face as you heard Jervis gasp right beside you, the man grinning as you opened the hardcover to reveal a sticky note on the first picture. "We've found the next clue!"

||> Riddler

Not sure if there's necessarily a "[clenches fist] Let's goooo!" meme, but if there is, Edward is internally the imbodiment of that. Not only is he in his element, but his crush is there, too.

He totally uses the situation to impress you, upturning clues left and right. You have to tell him that you're supposed to be looking for clues too, before he realizes. Despite his ego and trying to impress you, he's fun to work with, especially if you're skilled at escape rooms. There's plenty of times when you've both figured out a clue at the same time, or you figured it out before he did.

He says he was "handing it to you," [the clue] but you know better.

Conversation is exchanged while you and Edward look for teh next clue, suggesting possible answers back and forth. It wasn't long before you returned to the middle of the room, where a key inside a locked, transparent box laid on the center table. You had tried fiddling with it at the start of the session to see if you could find a loophole before abandoing it to look for the password.

"If you think messing with that box is going to give you the answer, then I'm afraid you're sorely mistaken," Edward says with a laugh. He's at the bookshelf adjacent to the door you both stepped into at the start of the round, slotting out and in the books and materials on the shelves in hopes he'd find a clue. A slip of paper, or some numbers scratched into the back—something to answer the four-digit code on the box.

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from the box before glancing around the room. Each bookshelf had been searched and moved for clues, each cabinet opened and rummaged through—your eyes flitted to the mirror across the room, some of the light from the lamps and the ceiling light reflecting off it. Nothing appeared off, merely reflecting the view before it, and yet you stepped forward, squinting for anything that appeared off.

Then it hit you: faint numbers mirrored from the wall behind you, barely noticeable if it weren't for the mirror and just the right lighting. You shrugged it off as discoloration at first, but you knew better now that the numbers 4, 2, 9, and 6 stared right at you. "Found you."

||> Scarecrow

I doubt Jonathan would've showed up to an escape room of his own accord, so maybe Edward or another rogue somehow talked him into it. Who knows how it came to be—all that matters is that he's there, and he's been paired up with you by random.

Jonathan is put together for the most part—except that he's a wreck on the inside, his default intimidation dampered by the heavy awkward vibes around him as you and him go around looking for clues. It's quiet, mumbling about where the clues could be and searching on your own.

When the first clue is found you two start working together, actually communicating with each other and thinking on the clues.

"42—that couldn't be a code or something, could it?" you ask, rummaging through a desk for anything that could hint to what the number was for. The escape room you were in practically screamed Jonathan's name—it was dark for the most part, save for a sole vintage lamp in the center of the room that bled light to the corners of the room, and was academic in aesthetic.

Jonathan stood facing the walls, studying them and the neighboring decor as he pondered over the clue. Just earlier the two of you uncovered a key from inside the desk, but it was far too small to fit into the keyhole for the door they needed to get through. His gaze drew toward a bookself, skimming over its contents boredly before he rose an eyebrow; while many of the books shelved were in an unusual manner with the spines facing inward rather than out, on the bottom shelf multiple books were shelved properly.

He kneeled down before the bookshelf and ran his finger over one book before pulling it out. It was an old book, but looked nothing out of the ordinary. He shelved it back the way it was previously, before repeating the action once more, twice more, before pulling out the fourth of the five. It was a hardcover with a book latch over the fore edge that required a key—a small one, he noted, as he glanced to wear the key was set on the desk you had abandoned to see what he had found.

“Found something?”

He hummed in response, standing up and you watched as he took the key from the desk and poked it into the book’s latch, unlocking it before opening the hardcover a few pages in. He flipped more pages before stopping at one, trailing his forefinger down the text before pausing half the page down, and looking up. You cocked your head slightly as you followed his gaze, coming to a halt at a painting of a tree and a group of black birds. “Jonathan?” you asked, looking at him once more as he moved, handing the book to you before making his way towards the painting. Your gaze fell to the book, skimming the pages for a moment to come across a line of text—she stood before a painting of ravens and a tree—only to look up as Jonathan unhooked the painting from the wall, turned it around, and revealed a key taped to its back.

#jervis tetch #mad hatter #jervis tetch x reader #mad hatter x reader #edward nygma #riddler #edward nygma x reader #riddler x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #posted: 7 Jan. 2023

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

I hate that you got hate. This is one of my favorite reads right now and even if you rip my heart and soul out that's fine. I don't need it any way lol

Also wanted to ask, is there a reason why Barb is just being a bitch? I think it's a nice contrast to everything else but it seems odd for her to be kinda be rude. I am not trying to criticize! I just was wondering

First of all, I'm soooo glad you're enjoying it.

Second of all, anon, this is hilarious. SO! In my head, Barb and Nancy have always been each other's main person. They're the stereotypical codependent girl best friends. You know how it goes. And then Barb had the stereotypical response to having your codependent best friend get a boyfriend for the first time: jealousy. I think we see this in the show within the little bit of screentime Barb gets. She gets snarky and mean, especially toward Steve, sometimes when he hasn't necessarily done anything. And yeah, a chunk of that's gonna be because she flat-out doesn't think Steve is good enough for Nancy. But another big chunk is that Nancy suddenly has shifted priorities, and she's no longer sure she's at the top of the list.

So, in this AU, Barb had to go through all of That, and then when Steve goes missing, she somehow gets stuck with her best friend mooning after Jonathan Byers of all people, where she's third wheeling (again???). And THEN her best friend finds out the boy she was sort of not really seeing is like in TROUBLE with a capital T, so now she's focused on getting him back. And Jonathan is Still There, so what is she going to be, the fourth wheel????

So she's going through all of this inter-personal shifting of dynamics all while not having any time to sort it out in any real way because she's also going through inter-DIMENSIONAL shenanigans.

#asks #sorry anon I have thoughts about this one!!! #I'm thinking about a one-shot focusing on Barbara and Nancy and Jonathan a bit because honestly I have Thoughts #about how they're dealing with all of this internally #especially nancy and barb

[strangestcase]

why do adaptations or even fandoms project the DID system to Jekyll when he never had it in the book?

DID was discovered shortly after the book was published and of course it being the Victorian era and the Gothic Double as-an-alternate-identity archetype being particularly popular in the late Gothic tradition, due to changing paradigms of mental health and spiritualism, the Victorians fetishized the shit out of the disorder and of course some tried to force that reading into the book. I say some because oddly enough it really didn't kick off, since people found the book as-is much more appealing.

Still, Stevenson got letters suggesting he gave Hyde "realistic" symptoms (unique handwriting, amnesia, etc) and somewhat chastising him for "getting the disorder wrong". Stevenson rejected that reading and corrected the letters, commenting that he hadn't even heard of the disorder beforehand, and that he had rather based Hyde off the then-buddying theory of the subconscious (which would be later developed by Jung and Freud).

As it seems, making Jekyll a system (and I don't mean it in a benevolent lets-put-decent-plural-rep-in-this-book way, I mean it in a wow-scary-disorder-so-terrifying-and-exotic way) is a relatively (?) recent choice. Most adaptations that I know of either don't follow that reading or at least keep it ambiguous enough to let Jekyll and Hyde be its own thing without necessarily drawing any solid parallels to real life disorders- maybe except addiction, but that's a given. Versions of the character that boldly lean in into those specific ableist tropes (not ableist tropes in general, since Hyde is almost inseparable from Scary Autism Is Scary tropes; more on that later) tend to be more "modern" and fall into one of these camps:

-read the book, but wants to be 3edgy5me about it and in too many people's minds "edgy" means "has the scaryweird disorder oooo"

-read the book, doesn't give a shit about being offensive or not because MY plot is BETTER !!!!

-didn't read the book (and you can tell) and is doing this out of pure ignorance (of everything. in general)

-didn't read the book and wants to be 3edgy5me and you know what this person should just make ocs or something

-secret fifth thing: this isn't about jekyll and hyde. this is about the idea of jekyll and hyde and it's going to be incredibly stupid (definitely the most bearable one, usually isn't malevolent, but it has to be done right)

I don't know what adaptation got the ball rolling (if it was only one) but I suppose the problem lies in the average layperson not knowing a Gothic Double (fictional archetype! interesting! fun!) from a honest to god real life somatic disorder that exists in real life and affects real people and of course some people writing the former as the latter and/or viceversa. It's like, God forbid a fictional character dissasociates, or has some saucy identity shit going on, lest a neurotypical writer thinks they're sooooooo smart and have them all figured out! (Because it's not just Jekyll who gets blasted with the Yeah I Don't Know How Plurality Works What Of It ray, let's be honest.) (Coughs Jonathan Crane coughs)

#jekyll and hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde

[findafight]

Idk if you’re the person to send this to but like

The whole thing with Murray’s comments and Nancy and Jon getting together…. It is set up in such a way that it can be read as a situation where an ambitious teenage girl was pressured into what she was “supposed” to be. Nancy was told by a man that she respected and who took her seriously (and was the ONLY one to do so, so Murray gained an untold amount of trust from Nancy immediately, and the show just brushing off their relationship is such a loss but ok), that in order to be her real self she must dump Steve. Now Murray was just poking at two teenagers with a metaphorical stick to see what would they do. Understandable position, as a younger sister haver love doing that also (not with romantic feelings though but Murray was never meant to be ethical). I doubt that what the comment meant for him can be easily translated into what it meant for Nancy (let alone Jon, who thinks that he is better than most people and that he is definitely better than Steve, so I imagine he was nodding along). But he did influence her into becoming an investigative journalist. Like Murray with him taking Nancy seriously influenced her into two major life altering decisions (career and significant other). Like wow. And they never interacted again! Fucking hate st continuity.

Like Nancy dumping Steve because Murray told her to do so is a major thing. It’s BAD for jancy. Before s4 I thought that they were not mentioning it because jancy happened and was the endgame. But with them toying with stancy and likely knowing that they might toy with stancy all along??? Why did they not leave it open to interpretation. It’s such a juicy storyline, it shows the magnitude of the influence that you can have on a teenage girl, it’s beautiful, it’s painful, it’s the stuff of a real love-triangle (which is hard to make interesting but that would make it interesting!!!). Why did they write it then??? Whyyyyyy?????

oooooh that's so interesting anon!

I am much more of a murray fan when he is being a weird gay conspiracy uncle guy and isn't matchmaking, it must be said.

He and Nancy have the potential for a really interesting dynamic! It really is a shame we don't get to see more of it tbh. and you are so right in what his comment meaning to him and what it meant to Nancy and Jon separately would be so different! I don't know if Nancy would necessarily feel pressured by it, (though I wouldn't say she wasn't, either) but maybe it would vindicate something of how she was feeling about her relationship with Steve at the time and her feelings for Jonathan? Like a "oh this man I respect and who takes me seriously also thinks Jonathan is better for me, thinks I should go for it. Maybe I will..." kind of thing?

And lol yeah so true Jon just had his own conception of himself and Steve and their relationships with Nancy confirmed by Murray. he just kinda got...permission? I guess? to make a move on Nancy even though he was the one bringing up Steve both times he's mentioned on the road trip.

Totally see where you're coming from of Murray's influence not being mentioned because you figured Jancy was endgame, makes sense (if boring) to not question it if it doesn't need to be addressed as an issue because the pairing is canon for the rest. But now the teen love triangle has been brought back.... you're so right it is bad for Jancy. It brings up stuff about them that a lot of people (especially the Duffers!) don't want to deal with or acknowledge. Though I don't think they were planning the whole time to bring stancy back I think that sort of happened because the duffers unfortunately don't know what to do with Nacy if she doesn't have a boy to look at and Steve when he isn't pining over Nancy.

There's not enough time left to fully and satisfyingly delve into the issues between the original older teens, especially since some of those issues aren't treated as issues. It would be interesting to see, and also so so juicy, the complicated relationship they have with each other because of the UD etc, but I don't think a whole lot of interesting canon material will come from it (though that doesn't mean fan content can't!!) just based on how other romantic relationships and their dynamics with each other have been treated through the show. tbh I think maybe s5 will tease the love triangle but ultimately either end up with them all single (my preference) or with Jancy still together.

#nancy wheeler #murray bauman #jancy #stancy #this isn't really anit either of those but i'll tag them jic #anti jancy #anti stancy #jonathan byers #steve harrington #monster hunting trio #stranger things meta #stranger things #anonasaurus #findaanswers