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[micycle--wheeler]

2

William vs the Homo-Geneous World

Will Byers lives a perfectly normal life. That is, until his life becomes perfectly unnormal, and his life becomes something straight out of a romance novel.

///

Or, Will gets a secret email pen-pal.

read chapter 1 here

read on ao3

FROM: indescisionsbuggingme@gmail.com

TO: evier.maple@gmail.com

DATE: Sep 2 at 11:23 PM

SUBJECT: please respond

Dear Evier,

I’m just like you.

I live a pretty normal life. My parents were the perfect love story, my mom working a low-end job to become pretty successful, and my step-dad is about as awesome as anyone can get. My brother likes photography  and enjoys making weird foods that always seem to taste good (he made kale pancakes that tasted too good to be real. I’m still sure he’s putting sugar in it when he keeps insisting he’s not).

I have the greatest friends anyone could ask for. Two of them, I’ve known pretty much my entire life, one being my sister (how embarrassing is that? A sister as a best friend…). The other I met just a few months ago, but it feels like I’ve known her just as long.

We do everything friends do. We drink way too many caffeinated drinks, stay up together far later than we should, and we spend way too much time on social media.

So yeah. My life is pretty normal.

Except I’ve got one huge-ass secret.

I look around at my room for a second time, at the books stacked up on my shelves. One of the pictures on my nightstand showcase that one time Dad drove us two hours to see a play. My fingers type at the keys once again.

—Horatio

I take a deep breath before clicking the mouse.

Send.

And now I wait.

I step away from the laptop, closing it for the night and going to bed.

That next morning,  everything is normal. Too normal, almost, as if nobody knows I just kinda told someone my secret. Evier is the only one who knows.

If he’s even read the email yet.

It’ll probably be put in the spam folder.

But I take my normal shower, so long it’s freezing by the time I’m out. I check my phone.

Nothing.

I get dressed and hop down stairs, skipping every other step, almost tripping over Chester in the process, who decided to come bounding down the stairs at the exact time I did. Jonathan is in the kitchen, handing me a piece of toast as I headed out the door, not even looking back to see if Jane was following me.

I check my emails as I get into the car, finding nothing of interest.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

I jump as Jane leans over, trying to look at my phone’s screen. “Nothing,” I say as I slide my phone back into my pocket.

“Is it a pretty girl?” she guesses. “Aw, did Willy-Will finally find a girl that actually likes him?”

I tell her to shove it as I pull out of the drive, and she in turn flips me off, not even looking in my direction. I ignore her as I turn down Maple Street.

Maple…

evier.maple

Did my phone buzz? I swear my phone buzzed.

I’m startled out of my thoughts as I almost drive into a trashcan.

I stop in front of Dustin’s house, and I take the chance to check my phone again.

Still nothing.

I drop my phone as Dustin climbs in, wild hair bouncing.

“You won’t believe what I dreamed last night.”

“Oh, again with the dreams, Dustin,” Jane turns her head to look at Dustin sitting in the back of the minivan (Yes, minivan. My parents got it from a friend of theirs who was looking to get rid of it).

“This one is interesting, okay?” Dustin defends as I start heading towards Max’s house, which was just down the street. “I was on a train, right?”

“Is this another one of your infamous dreams?” Max asks as she climbs in next to him.

“Yeah! And I was on a train, but everything was strangely blurry.”

“Hmm… What does Freud say?”

Max looks expectantly at me when she says this, mainly because I was the only one that did Psychology last year, and the main thing we studied was dreams.

“Well, good ‘ol Sigmund said that dreaming of trains was analogous to a dick, so…”

“Maybe you wanted to jerk off!” Jane jokes from the passenger seat. “Will does it all the ti—” I try to smack her in the arm while keeping my eyes on the road.

“I do not!”

“Maybe it means you’re not seeing what’s right in front of you,” Max offers. “Like… like maybe you have an idea or an inkling of something, but you still don’t see the full picture. what'd you think, Will?”

I think of what is in the email I sent the mysterious Evier. “No idea.”

I pull up in front of the school, snagging a good spot, away from the kids that like to smoke cigarettes and kick tires.

We all pile out of the car, making our way to our separate classes.

“Nice hair band, Carri, is it new? Oh, new haircut, James? Lookin’ good! Oh, Will!”

Mr, Newby is standing in the hall, doing his morning ritual of greeting students. Just like he did in my freshmen and sophomore year.

“How are you? Nice jacket, even though you wear it every day. Where’d you get it?”

“It’s from a teenager store, Mr. Newby. You can’t enter if you’re over the age of nineteen.”

“Aw, darn.” Mr. Newby shakes his head jokingly as I make my way through the halls and into first period English.

The rest of the day goes surprisingly smoothly, the only even someone interesting occurrence happening at lunch, when Richie Tozier dropped his tray and got applesauce everywhere.

When he sits down at the table, socks soaked in cinnamon, he starts a loud conversation with his fellow baseball player, Lucas Sinclair.

“Did you hear about the gay kid on hawkinswhispers?” he says loudly, shoveling fries into his mouth.

“I did!” Max sits in between Richie and Lucas, practically draping herself over the latter.

“Does anybody know where Jane is?” I ask, ignoring my redheaded best friend. I love Max, but this is just too much heterosexual PDA for me.

“Probably sucking face with Mike somewhere,” Richie throws out, and I try to keep myself from gagging.

“That is the worst mental image I have ever thought of.”

Mike. Jane’s boyfriend. He’s in my theatre class, but that’s about all I know about him except for the fact that he’s Richie’s cousin.

I look down at my phone, planning on checking my email. I open the app and am met with the no internet connection popup.

Right. There’s not service in the building.

“Again with your phone!” Max sighs. “Will, this is the third time today.”

I roll my eyes and ignore her, getting up and heading toward one of the breezeways, knowing I might be able to get at least a couple of bars.

“Oh, Will. William. Willy-Man.”

I look up and find Mr. Newby walking toward me.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“You know the rules. No phones in the hallway. It can cause a collision. So I’ll be having that.” He points at my phone, still in my fingers, and I reluctantly hand it over. “Walk with me.”

I apparently have no choice as he hooks his arm around my shoulder in a I’m trying to relate to you kind of way.

“I remember being a youthful spirit such as you, except I rode a bike instead of surfed the interwebs and killed monsters from another dimension instead of waited for texts from girls.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle uncomfortably. Mr. Newby can be weird.

“So you can have your phone back after school, okay?” Mr. Newby muses. “And you can go back to class.

He walks away at this, whistling to himself  as I’m left standing in the hallway.

Today has been weird.

///

@reddie-tozibrak

[micycle--wheeler]

William vs the Homo-Geneous World

Will Byers lives a perfectly normal life. That is, until his life becomes perfectly unnormal, and his life becomes something straight out of a romance novel.

///

Or, Will gets a secret email pen-pal.

1

I had to admit, this was not what I expected to be doing on a Tuesday night. I expected to be on my phone, maybe looking through my class schedule to memorize it.

I didn’t expect to be standing three feet away from my desk, staring at my laptop screen, where the thin words “Create Your Google Account” shined in bright, black letters. I don’t really want to move from my spot three feet away from my laptop, but at the same time I should have closed that distance and been typing away. But here's the thing.

I‘m scared.

I’m just a scared teenager in my first day of junior year, standing three feet in front of an open laptop and being too afraid to bridge the gap.

Today was good, though. First day in the school year, a little stressful, but all around fun to see my new classes. Today was the one day in the school year where I was excited for school, before the stress settled in and it actually became hell.

And then I went home, where Max texted me to check out hawkinswhispers, the Tumblr account our school made.

It originally started out as a fun school blog, where you could submit math help and meet new friends. As expected, it turned into the gossip hub for anything and everything happening at Hawkins High. Max follows the blog religiously, and she’s always gossiping about how Tommy and Sara are having sex, or how Nicole Summers was snorting cocaine in a broom closet.

So when she Facetimed me (it’s as if she hasn’t grasped the concept of texting, I swear to God), I just sort of expected her to be ranting about how Richie Tozier finally managed to fail a quiz.

I sighed and answered her call. The first thing she said? “Check the new post on hawkinswhispers.”

“No.”

My finger hovered over the end call button before-- “It’s about the closeted gay kid at school.”

I tried to keep my expression neutral. “What?”

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Oh, Chess just threw up all over my floor.” Chester perked up at his name, lying on the pillow in the corner of my room. He in fact did not puke. “I’m gonna have to call you back.” I practically threw my phone on my desk as I ended the call before Max could say anything else, sliding into my chair and wildly typing tumblr.com into the search bar on my computer that was sitting open.

Hawkinswhispers popped up immediately, and I read it quickly before leaning back in my seat, thinking only, thank God it’s not me.

Oh yeah. I think I forgot to mention that.

But I didn’t really think it was a big characteristic of me. Of my personality. It was just a trait of me, I guess. Max likes to stalk hawkinswhispers. Jonathan likes to cook. Will is gay. Life goes on.

And then I realized what this meant. There’s another closeted gay kid at school.

I live in a very conservative town, and the only out guy at school is in the year younger than me, Eddie Kaspbrak. He's the pitcher on the baseball team, which means nobody tries to beat him up unless they want to get clobbered in the face, although he still gets a lot of hate on his tendencies to wear girls’ shorts.

But the thing about Eddie is that he simply oozes gay, even before he was out, so nobody was exactly surprised when he was found kissing some guy from another team. Mike Hanlon, I think.

So this Tumblr post was really surprising.

I read through it more carefully. It was surprising in the way that all of the words were spelled correctly and there was actual punctuation.

It was a poem, and I guessed it was an original.

“Smile,” they say,

“You have good grades.”

“Smile,” they say,

“You have both parents.

That’s more than most can say.”

“Smile,” they say,

“You have a pretty girlfriend.”

But do they know?

Do they know I'm scared?

Scared to be myself?

Do they know,

That good grades aren't everything?

Do they know,

That I’m actually gay?

I don’t know.

I don’t know,

And even I don’t know why,

I’m the only one who knows.

- Evier

There was a picture of the sky surrounded by trees below it, as if he had laid on his back in a forest and taken a picture.

I scanned around the post some more, finding sent from evier.maple@gmail.com in the top corner.

Who sends a Tumblr post from their emails? I didn’t even know you could do that.

Anyway, I kind of really wanted to try talking to him, maybe. So I clicked on the little blue link.

And that’s how I ended up here. Standing three feet away from my computer like it’s a cursed object with a bright little screen displaying “Create Your Google Account.”

I already said I was a coward.

I jump as the sound of the front door closes with a bang. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to slam it,” I hear faintly. Jane’s home.

Now or never, I guess.

I walk over to the desk. Easy peasy. Right?

Right.

Typing in the characters. I don’t know why I was stressing about this.

Username. I glanced around my room, looking for inspiration. The bed was unmade, although my floor was spotless. Chester was asleep and snoring. My eyes rove up the walls, stopping on the vinyl hanging above the headrest.

The Clash.

I hit the next button.

I can do this.

I can’t do this.

I close my eyes and inhale, taking a deep breath.

I practically jump out of my swivel chair as my dad bursts through the door, and in a force of habit from staying up late and pretending to be asleep, I slam the laptop shut.

“Oh, was I interrupting something?” he hesitates, his hand still on the doorknob. “I was just coming to tell you we’re all waiting to watch The Bachelorette, but if—”

“No Dad, sounds fun!” I try to sound convincing. I don’t think it works. I hop up out of my chair, although my hands are still placed firmly on my laptop, as if it holds all of my darkest secrets which, when you think about it, it does.

“Really? Because you can go back to jerking off to sexy pictures of Gigi Hadid if you want—”

My eyes widen. “Oh my god, Dad!”

“No?” I walk towards my door, and he steps out of the way as I step into the hallway. “Scarlett Johansson?”

“No.” He follows me as I trod down the stairs.

“Emma Watson? Jennifer Lawrence?”

“No!”

“Halsey? I heard she likes girls too but—”

“Okay, fine, if it gets you to shut up, then yes, I was!” I turn to him, and although he’s literally a foot taller than me, I try to glare him down.

“Well that’s not something you should say to the police chief,” he says smugly.

“It is if he's your dad,” I grumble, and I turn into the living room, where Jonathan is setting up the TV.

“Ooh, you got him down from his room!”  Jane walks out of the kitchen with Mom behind her, both holding large bowls of popcorn.

“Haha, very funny,”  I say in a monotone voice, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into my mouth as she plopped down on the couch next to me. “We’re all laughing over here.”

Jonathan hits play before she can retaliate, and her head snaps to the bright screen like a magnet. See, my family loves to watch shows like this. Me, I think it’s too heteronormative.

“I hope it's Josh,” Jane says from her perched position on the couch.

“Josh?” Dad asks. “The gay one?”

“Jim—”

“He's not gay!” Jane defends.

“You serious? He's such a flamer, he's smoking at the ears! Right, Will?”

“What? Yeah.” I remember my mom saying once that she'd rather have someone tell her to the face that she was ugly than overhear someone else calling another lady ugly.

Maybe I'm understanding that a lot better.

I try to go back to the TV, but my thoughts are too jumbled to focus on what I'm watching.

When the bowls are empty and the screen is black, I sloth my way up the stairs. And then I remember what I left.

I sit down at my desk and open my laptop.

Now or never.

[micycle--wheeler]

just kidding i lied the chapter isnt done oOpS

[micycle--wheeler]

new story coming soon!

you like gay?

you like will byers?

you like this fandom?

you like secret email penpals?

well have i got a proposition for you!

William vs the Homo-geneous World coming soon!

First chapter up probably later today!

(im not telling you who the other side to this ship is...)

[micycle--wheeler]

to all of the wonderful annies and people that have sent prompts: im still seeing them. im still writing. please don’t think im ignoring you. it just takes

time

[micycle--wheeler]

Elmax for anonymous.

I kind of just imagined El pointing out a bird to her girlfriend and Max just kinda being like “wow.”

[micycle--wheeler]

could you draw elmax?

Yes i could. I shall post that shortly.

[micycle--wheeler]

Kali

[micycle--wheeler]

Its ok that it took a while it was really good, I ove that you included some other ships a little

Thank you! I loved the prompt!

[micycle--wheeler]

Duster coming out to the rest of the party?

Sorry this took so long. I really enjoyed writing it.

___

“It was your idea in the first place, need I remind you?”

Currently, Mike and Dustin were in the Henderson’s living room, pacing back and forth.

“Yeah, but I’m not just gonna walk up to our friends and be like ‘Hey guys, I’ve been dating our best friend for three months, sorry for forgetting to tell you!’” Mike argued, throwing his hands into the air. “You do it!”

“No!” Dustin defended. “You’re better at words than I am!”

“Yeah, well you’re nicer!”

“What’s that have to do with anything!”

“It’s got to do with everything!” Mike sighed, stopping his pacing (partly to prove a point, partly because he was getting dizzyingly tired). He sighed. “Fine! I’ll tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Dustin jumped, his hat almost falling off of his curls as Max barged into the room, along with the rest of the party.

“Um—I—uh, well—”

Dustin nudged Mike in the ribs. Mike stepped on Dustin’s toes. “Well… uh, what I was going to say was… um…” he scratched the back of his neck, “Dustin beat Max’s high-score in centipede!”

“WHAT?” Max practically shrieked. “You motherf—”

“No I didn’t!” Dustin defended himself as Max looked ready to throw hands. “I mean, well, I did beat you in Centipede, but that’s not what Mike was going to say.” He glared pointedly at his companion.

Mike gulped and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, gulping again and clearing his throat. Again. “I—” He went back into silence mode. Had his throat always been so tight? He wondered. And why did his tongue feel too big in his mouth all of a sudden? He couldn’t seem to swallow his spit properly.

Mike Wheeler, clever wordsman and master at the art of speech, was having trouble talking. So, being the logical person he was, he did as anyone could in his situation and took action.

This just means that he was so panicked that he ended up kissing his boyfriend instead of telling his friends outright (although Dustin wasn’t complaining).

They had expected sounds of surprise, or maybe some swearing, perhaps a slap across the face.

They definitely did not expect, when pulling apart and turning to their friends, Will to turn to a crestfallen and regretful looking Lucas and shout joyfully, “You owe me two hundred bucks!”

“Wait, what?” Dustin pressed confusedly. Max and El also didn’t look surprised. Not in the slightest.

“Oh, please,” Will started, staring at Lucas as he pulled out his wallet, “it wasn’t like you guys were being secretive.”

“Yes we were!”

“We were trying to!”“Well you guys failed horribly,” El started. “It’s not like you guys didn’t, I dunno, both conveniently have to study instead going to the arcade. And it’s not like you guys just were busy grabbing something from Mike’s car during the lunch period.”

“I—well, I mean,” Mike spluttered out.

“Lucas didn’t know!” Dustin offered.

“Exactly!”

Lucas looked up from the twenties he was counting out. “Oh no, I knew.”

Mike and Dustin turned their heads in confusion at the same time. “But then what was the bet about? Between you and Will.”

Will smirked. “I bet him you guys would tell us after you were dating for three months. He thought it would be after six.”

Instead of looking clarified, they just looked more mind-boggled. “How do you know how long we’ve been dating?”

“Blue cake icing really stains,” Will began. “I very vividly remember Mike refusing to eat any of it for that reason. Dustin, however, ate three slices. People’s lips don’t just magically turn blue, Mike.” Mike turned bright red, as did Dustin. They just watched silently as Lucas handed Will his ten twenties and say, “thanks, babe” while leaning up to peck his lips.

“WHAT?” Dustin burst out. “YOU GUYS ARE DATING TOO?”

“Guys we’ve been together for two years, why are you so surprised?”

“TWO—I DIDN’T KNOW THAT!”

“Yeah, and we’ve been dating for about six months.” Max lifted the hand interlaced with Eleven’s. Mike looked ready to pass out.

They all stood around silently. Will pocketed his winnings. Dustin itched his nose. Mike reached for his boyfriend’s hand.

“We’re all just kinda really gay, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Definitely.”

“Hundred percent.”

[micycle--wheeler]

You know how a lot of fics have weak soft Will uwu and protective Mike??? Well could you write something with Will being the strong and assertive one and Mike being a soft bisexual mess who can't win arguments for shit and only thinks of smart comebacks three hours too late and admires and looks up to Will and pins after him and is shy af and a total mess for him and Will needs to protect his cute dumb boyfriend from getting his ass kicked or something?

Will Byers was a momma’s boy. His mother always fawned over him, practically waiting on him like a servant.

And this wasn’t just his mom, no. Every woman who had birthed a child in the entire town seemed to exist to make sure that Will was okay and that he wasn’t dehydrated and that he wasn’t hungry and that he was happy.

Will didn’t know why, but he wasn’t complaining.

This almost superpower came in great handy against bullies. Trent Erikson calls him a queer? He suddenly has to do the dishes for a month. Janice whispers behind his back about his painted nails? Looks like she can’t sleepover at her friend’s house this weekend.

Will enjoyed this immensely. Will remembered one sophomore stumbling upon him and Mike making out in the alley between the gym and the cafeteria. He just leaned over and said, “Tell anyone, and I’m gonna tell your mother.” That enough caused the kid to run away in fear.

Mike was especially entranced by this power, always staring in amazement at his boyfriend walking undisturbed in the hallway, lest those kids get hell from their mothers. (That also made him that much more attractive in Mike’s opinion.)

Will was also not scared to use his hands as well as his words. He would maybe administer playful slaps across the face, or a pat on the head like that of which you would give to a dog that has been a good boy.

A lot of the boys (who would never admit it in a million years) seemed to be attracted to the boy. Many pegged it as how he was so girlish, but others were also very confused as to why such a petite boy had so much power.

Many were jealous of his boyfriend, who seemed to follow him like a lost puppy. A tall lost puppy that had curly dark hair and pale skin and a whole galaxy of freckles.

And Will liked that. He liked it a lot.

[micycle--wheeler]

I REALLY LOVE KALI PRASAD OKAY

[micycle--wheeler]

"I'm a master of fright, and a demon of light, and I'll scare you right out of your pants."

[micycle--wheeler]

It Always Gets Stranger

IT ALWAYS GETS STRANGER

Mike’s family is going to Maine for the summer. Sometimes, things take a turn for the worst.

CHAPTER 9

read on ao3

read chapter 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8

words: 2116

MIKE was hot.

This didn't mean that he was more attractive than the average male, and Mike thought he was not nearly so, but he was sweating and he didn't like it.

It was maybe a week after going to the quarry, and since then, his mother (thankfully) didn't make him tag along with Richie and his friends. The Party, however, seemed to love the Losers’ club, and there wasn't a day when Dustin didn't have Ben over, and not a single moment in which Will was not out with Bill.

It was in fact one of these times when Mike was laying on the couch, doing absolutely nothing. Well, he was breathing, and blinking, and he was swinging his legs, but other than that, it seemed that Mike could have been on that couch for centuries, staring at the ceiling with his hair fanned around his face like a dark mane.

He was alone in the house, everyone else outside showing off skateboarding moves and flipping hamburgers and wearing overlarge sunhats. There was no particular reason why Mike wasn't outside. Maybe he just missed complete silence, or maybe he just needed time alone. Or maybe he was just confused as to why anyone would be outside in this heat.

He was startled out of his mind-palace when the front door opened, and the silence was shot with the sound of loud boys talking boisterously.

“Y-y-you got him good, Byers.”

“Me? Look at me, my nose is dripping. You really got him! Your knuckles are bleeding.”

“I duh-duh-don’t know if that’s his blood or m-muh-mine.”

Mike sat up, finding two Williams standing in the doorway, covered in blood and smiles.

“What the hell happened?” Mike demanded, and the boys jerked their heads as if they didn't realize Mike was in the room.

“Oh, uh, we ran into Henry Bowers, and uh…” Will trailed off, motioning to his bloody nose and bruised cheek. He seemed to be blushing, although that might’ve also just been the blood on his face.

“I know where the bandages ah-are,” Bill spoke up. He grabbed Will’s arm and led him to the kitchen, Will sitting on the counter as Bill opened a cupboard bursting with band-aids and bandages.

“I’ll just… go… I guess.” Mike turned toward the stairs, heading to his suitcase and thinking maybe I’ll just grab a comic or something. There’s no way I’m going downstairs and seeing those two looking at each other like that. He could still hear them downstairs, laughing and giggling about something Mike didn't want to know about.

Mike walked past the guest room, the one occupied by his sister and his friends. He still didn't understand the logic of three girls getting a room and five boys having to cram into the one next to it. He lingered near the doorway, and after a few seconds of blank staring, he realized that the window was letting hot air blow in, the curtains shifting in the wind.

What idiot decided to leave a window open in this heat? Mike wondered as he stepped into the room. He pulled aside the curtains to close it, finding his view perfectly overlooking the backyard, where Bill and Will had apparently joined the group, running around and playing tag. He stared out the open window, unable to drag his eyes away from the smiling boy, golden brown hair whipping around his face.

He was jerked out of his trance as the door behind him slammed shut. He jumped, turning around as the sound of the lock clicked into place. He ran over, trying to unlock it, shaking the knob and banging on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Help!” he called out. “Help!” He ran over to the window, still open, hot air blowing his hair back. He called out for help a couple more times. The kids down below were still running, still picking flowers and laying on hammocks and laughing like there wasn't a care in the world.

“They won't hear you, you know.” The voice came from behind him, and Mike looked around the room. He didn’t find anyone, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The only other thing in the room was a large tank, a snake sitting peacefully under the heat lamp.

He shuddered. Mike hated snakes. He remembered back in sixth grade, when his class went to a zoo, and the kids were allowed to pet and hold some snakes. Mike was pretty sure he almost passed out that day.

But he still didn’t know who was talking.

“Who-who’s there?” he called out weakly. His eyes were still roving around the room, narrowing a look at the closet. They’re hiding in there, I bet. Ready to pounce on me and gut me. He backed up, ready to jump out of the window in case an axe-murderer jumped out of nowhere, but he was surprised when he found the window closed. And bolted to the frame. “What the hell?”

“Can’t run away now, can you?” the voice called again. Mike was mortified as he realized that it was the snake that was talking, its head raised as it stared at Mike with strangely human-like eyes.

He blinked, and, as if it appeared out of thin air, a perfectly round red balloon floated in midair, perfectly still . Unnaturally still. Mike tried more to blend in with the wall,.

“Oh, I thought you loved balloons,” the snake quirked its head. “You can’t have a birthday without them.” The balloon shifted, as if on a conveyor belt. It floated along, not bobbing, not shifting; the string didn't even move, stiff like a pole. “Oh, but your birthday’s soon, isn’t it?” the snake inquired. “Here’s an early birthday gift.”

The balloon floated until it was six inches from Mike’s nose. “Go on,” the snake pressed. Mike gulped, and he felt his hand move to touch the balloon, and he couldn’t pull back his arm if he wanted to. It was like the balloon had him on a string, pulling him unwillingly along.

“Take. It.” Mike’s finger connected with the balloon. And it popped.

Mike half expected it, but what he did not expect was the black ink that came from it, soaking his clothes and getting on the beds, splattering on the walls and staining the carpet. The window had shattered and, with a mortified certainty, Mike realized the snake’s enclosure had fragmented as well.

Mike didn't know what kind of snake it was, as he was never interested in learning about them, but this one had spots on its back, and he could see them as it slithered its way toward him, and Mike, petrified, could only scream, and he didn’t know how he ended up curled up on the ground, surrounded by broken glass. It unhinged its jaw and showed long, thin fangs, and Mike knew this is how I go. Not to a mind-flaying monster from another dimension, no, I, Mike Wheeler, is going to die from a three foot long snake that can pop balloons and speak and—

The door burst open, Nancy running in along with half of the house.

“What are you doing, Mike?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips in a scary imitation of their mother. “You’re not allowed in the girls’ room, remember?”

Mike could only stare, wide-eyed and dripping ink, surrounded by broken glass.”Th-the i-i-ink, and the suh-suh-snuh—”

“Ink?” Nancy looked around, as if she was unable to see an entire wall and her younger brother covered in the dripping liquid, unable to smell the intoxicating, sickly-sweet fumes. Maybe she can’t, Mike thought. Maybe there is no ink, or balloon, or snake. Maybe I’ve finally gone off the deep end.

But Dustin’s open-mouthedness, Ben’s raised eyebrows (he seemed to have arrived without Mike’s notice), and Will’s reproachful stare said different.

“And you let the snake out of the terrarium!” Nancy rushed over and, before Mike could say that thing’s gonna kill you!, she picked it up and placed it back in its broken tank, where it promptly fell asleep. “Really Mike, we shouldn’t have to treat you like a little kid. Why were you even screaming anyway? To scare the shit out of us all?” Her eyebrows were raised, and her lips were set into that pout that she did when she was really pissed.

Mike was left stuttering as she left the room with a “And come outside, Mike. You need to get some sun.”

As soon as she left, a flood of people filled the room, all of Mike’s friends along with Bill and Ben, asking a million questions at once.

“Why did you break the window?”

“Why couldn’t Nancy see that?”

“Are you okay?”

“Wh-why is there i-i-ink on the wall? A-and on you?”

“Did you fucking hurt Martha? She’s sensitive, you asshole!”

“Mike, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up? Mike, how many fingers?”

Mike was still whispering about ink and balloons, staring at his leg, where the snake was about to sink its venom-filled fangs into his skin. He half expect to find two perfect puncture holes, feel himself fade away from life as the venom gripped his heart.

But no. He was alive, perfectly fine except for the bits of glass in his arms and the drying ink covering his freckles.

And maybe it was the overstimulation of all of his friends yelling at him, or maybe it was the ink fumes getting to his head, or maybe it was the entire weirdness of the day, but after whispering “snake” one more time, he promptly passed out.

…

After the hectic day he had, Will was ready to go to bed right when the sun went down.

Mike, who was woken up soon after passing out with a slap to the face (courtesy of Max), was already asleep, snoring lightly into his pillow. He had taken a shower, although Will could still find spots of ink on his skin, a dark contrast to his pale complection.

He still seemed slightly shaken up, but he didn't elaborate on what happened except for the words “ink,” “balloon,” and “snake.” Will guessed the best medicine for his nerves would be sleep.

Will himself settled down to sleep, closing his eyes and snuggling in deeper underneath his pile of blankets.

Will always loved these kinds of dreams. Or maybe he hated them. He hadn't decided yet.

He was standing in an empty room, or maybe room wasn't the right word. It was like a wide expanse of pure nothing, black and forever. The floor had a thin covering of water on it, but his sock-clad feet were never wet.

He liked the peacefulness of it, his hectic life calming down in dreamland. He liked the fact that he could see himself, as if a spotlight was on him and he couldn't see it. He liked the blackness, the water on the ground, and the cool air twisting around him like a snake, the air still, but moving, wrapping around him in a suffocating grasp. He liked this.

What he hated, very, very much, was when things would join him in this nothingness. Sometimes it would be Castle Byers, but the bluish tinge to it and the vines twisting and curling into it let him know it wasn't the one in his backyard. No, this version was collapsed and torn apart, as if a giant monster had ripped it to shreds in its hunt for a small boy.

This was one of those nights with things in this void.

It started out pretty normal, with his feet planted firmly on the ground as he stood alone, in nowhere. And he looked around, finding nothing. And then there was something.

A person, standing still, shaking and wait, were they crying? He stepped closer to the person, finding a familiar face underneath a sheet of auburn hair.

“Bill?” Will asked. He kept crying, looking down at something Will couldn't see. He was wearing pajamas, and looking as if he had just woken up, but the tear tracks down his face looked years old.

“Bill, are you okay?” Still no answer. “Bill, can you hear me?”

He opened his mouth to speak, staring at the Lego turtle in his hands. “I miss-s you s-s-so much…”

“Bill, what are you—” Will was startled out of his sentence, and his dream altogether, when the sound of a bloodcurdling scream filled the house.

//

Hey, as you may have already guessed, the incidents that happen in the movie are very out of order here. Do not worry. It’s supposed to be that way. (And yes, Richie named the snake Martha.)

@sapphic-sadiesink @protectthebyers @dorkytaylor @noahschnapp-noahclap @janyamz @tiny-tea

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[micycle--wheeler]

Hey friend! I'm not sure what their ship name is but I would love a cute little drabble for Dustin x Will! If you are up for it 💖 and if you could please tag me @michael-hearteyes-wheeler

Dustin forgot how they ended up together, how their friendship had slowly turned into a relationship.

Maybe it was when Will had fallen and twisted his ankle, and Dustin had carried him all the way home (“Put me down, I’m like a billion pounds!” “Nah, you’re a lightweight.”).

Maybe it was after a particularly bad visit from his father, and Dustin cheered him up by telling him jokes and never letting go of his hand.

Maybe it was during their senior year, at a New Year’s party, tipsy but sober enough to kiss under mistletoe, giggling too much and smiles spread across faces.

Dustin didn’t know but, as he looked at his husband laughing along with their four year-old daughter, Dustin was glad that it did.

//

@michael-hearteyes-wheeler

[micycle--wheeler]

UNORIGINAL PROMPT IDEA!!

send in a ship + song lyrics/complete song

[micycle--wheeler]

What is joyren?

Joyren, my dear annie, is a lovely ship someone in the depths of this site made of karen wheeler and joyce byers. The liminal amount of content that ship contains has a small place in my heart.