#1988 fic

[redlinereblogs]

originally here

It's summer in Manitoba and Jonny doesn’t have a care in the world.

Sun’s up. Windows down. And, for the first time in months, he feels like he can actually breathe.

Pat’s spent the entire car ride with his head buried in his phone. He's not giving Jon the running commentary he normally would so Jonny assumes it’s Briss about next year. He and Pat are very pointedly not talking about next year yet but Jon’s not worried.

They’ll talk. They'll work it out.

He and Pat are solid—the last three years proved that. It’s him and Pat at the end of it all—the rest will work itself out.

Jon slows as he makes a turn out and smiles at the click of the blinker. The car is making him nostalgic.

It’s the same one he and Dan drove to practice in years ago. It's the car Jon first learned to drive in and the stain on the backseat is from when he’d spilled red Gatorade the summer before he’d moved to Chicago. Jon’s hardly the sentimental sort but he’d found himself shockingly reluctant to sell the car. He'd ended up moving it into the third garage bay in his new house and had pointedly ignored all his family’s comments about it.

The first time Pat had spent time at the house he’d merely raised a questioning eyebrow. Jon stumbled through something about how it was good to have an extra car around for when others were in the shop and it got surprisingly decent gas mileage and actually Jon’s been meaning to get rid of it for a while now when Pat had reached out to squeeze his hand.

“I get it,” he’d said and Jon thought Pat probably did. Pat too was keen to hold on tight to the things and people in his life from Before—before his name was called and he lifted a cup and an entire arena roared when he stepped on the ice.

Jon isn’t really sure why he decided they should take this car today. He'd said to Kaner that they were taking it because the other was low on charge and he didn’t want to move the boat trailer to get the Jeep out. Both statements were true but they still felt like lies. Pat had barely looked up from his phone and had simply grunted before sliding in the passenger seat.

Jon slows and stops at a traffic light—glancing over to watch Pat frown at his screen. He can’t believe he made it here. Summer at home with his boyfriend in the passenger seat.

He used to dream about doing this in this car. And, of all his dreams that had come true, he thinks this one might be the sweetest.

The light turns and Jon moves his eyes back to the road. He reaches over to place a hand on Pat's thigh as he accelerates. He brushes his pinkie finger back and forth—sneaking it under the hem of pat’s shorts.

“Hey now,” Pat absently comments without taking his eyes off his screen.

Jon smiles and answers by slipping his hand higher.

[blorbosonice]

posted. 35k words of kane/toews with lots of pining, hurt/comfort, and tooth-rotting fluff. enjoy.

EXERPT:

A familiar car pulls up, parking right at the edge of the driveway behind the others. The door opens and shuts. The sound of the water on the tin roof of the cabin is deafening. Once again, Jonny’s feet are cemented into the mud, one moment stretching into a lifetime when Patrick smiles at him, nobody else out here in the pine and the wind and the dark weather. And Jonny is sold on staying, just like that. Would take the twisted blade in his chest a million times over, just for him.

“What the fuck are you standing in the rain for, dipshit?” Patrick shouts.

Jonny mirrors that contagious smile.

[wholivesintime]

hiraeth: an unattainable longing for something, especially one’s home. formed from “hir”, meaning long, and “aeth” meaning sorrow or grief.

“Yeah? You want to have a baby?"

“I want to have your baby.”

one / two / three

[meidnightrain]

YOU ARE IN LOVE - childe

❝ and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars and why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words. ❞

summary: you’ve never given thought to your relationship with your childhood friend with the harbinger, until it changes into something different

warnings: reader is gn, none

notes: day 15! this song is one of my absolute favs and hence, why this fic has to be the one i’m the proudest of! hope you like it!

taglist (open): @staretes , @rynnlvrs , @sentifua , @i-probably-sleep-too-much , @reilly34 , @qqingque , @akutasoda , @mhiieee , @starryshinyskies , @kazemiya , @pix-stuff , @inscaraithrust

you’ve never been a stranger to his looks, able to read the boy you’ve grown up with your whole life like an open book. and this smile, hidden with so many emotions threatening to burst at the seams in this dark room you both were in, was only for your watchful eyes.

time always moved too fast when you were with him, the days that once dragged endlessly were not gone in a blink of an eye. you’d always play it back in your memory like rewinding a phonograph, skipping to your favourite part and reliving every moment all over again.

when he had came back from a long mission in liyue, buttoned and draped his coat jacket over your shivering body, apologised for taking so long to come back home to you. when he would make lighthearted jokes that were more misses than hits, see the way his lips would turn down slightly, frown turned upside down by a single kiss on the cheek. it wasn’t proof, not much of it but you saw enough.

he had always loved small talk and long walks in the winter wonderland of your homeland, the sneaky pranks he’d once pull by placing his freezing hands on your neck and make you shriek in shock. that was years ago, his cold hands had turned warm, his every touch warming you up quicker than any warmth a fire could offer.

when you would have coffee from fontaine, which he had specially imported for you at midnight, his strong arms around your waist and his bed-head snuggled in the crook of your neck as you made two steaming cups.

the moonlight reflected the chain on his neck, the necklace that you had gifted to him long ago, one with the sigil of a snowflake.

a snowflake that carried more meaning to the both of you, a snowflake that he had tried to gift you when you were kids. to him you were as pure as snow, beautiful and fragile in his gentle touch. and when he had murmured for you to look up and caused the both of your shoulders to brush. it wasn’t proof, not much of it but you felt enough.

when you woke up with him in the morning, the sunlight shining through the curtains. his once failed attempts at making you breakfast, laughing sheepishly as he held two pieces of burnt toast. you’d keep his shirt, a reminder of him when he had to leave for his duties carried him elsewhere and he’d keep his promise to always return to you.

and for once, childe could let go of his fears and ghosts when he was around you. the abyss, the fatui, the thrill of battle wearing him down like a soldier who had spent his whole life on the frontline. not with you, you were the home he looked forward to and he was the soldier you waited for to come back from the war. one small step for him, not much but it was enough.

when he would kiss you on the sidewalk after a long mission, twirl you in the air and you’d hold your breath to savour the moment as you drank him in like water thirstily. when the aftermath of a fight would linger heavily between you two till the point you’d both cave in and talk, for you couldn’t live without the other.

when he had woke up one night with a strange look on his face, the way he had paused and uncharacteristically stumbled over his words. your confused but amused smile at the realisation of how young the both of you were, young idiots in true love. he was never the eleventh of the fatui harbingers to you, he was ajax, your ajax always and forevermore.

“you’re my best friend,” he had said, pinching both your cheeks sleepily and shifting to hold onto you tighter. you knew what it was, being spooned in his embrace, he was in love.

and so it goes, it was like the both of you were dancing in a snow globe round and round. from when your short stubby legs would chase him around in the snow to waltzing with him in the middle of the night, the whole world asleep and only the two of you were awake. it was a whole collection of snow globes picturing the moments and growth of your relationship. from your first encounter, from when you had both become best friends, from when you had realised that you were in love.

when childe would miss you on the nights he had to spend without you, long torturous days where all his dreams were about feeling the ghost of your lips on him, your phantom fingers tracing his body in all the places you had memorised so long ago, your invisible touch causing him to buckle and fall to his knees. how he’d cope by taking out the picture he had of you in his pocket, in his office back at the fatui headquarters, your smile captured on film not as bright as the one he would come home too.

when he would come home to you injured and battle-scarred, your heartbeat on the high line as you watched this strong man you loved so flinch at your touch. only wanting you and only you to patch him up, kiss it all better, only you to see this side of him. and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars. and why he’d spend his whole life trying to put into words, words that would describe how much you meant to him.

cause you could hear it in the silence, feel it on the way home with his arm linked in yours. you could see it with the lights out, the whole room shrouded in darkness except for him, who glowed and shined brighter than any star you’ve ever seen in the night sky.

that you are in love, true love.

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[toxinoire]

Finally, I can write again!

This is how I visualize the final scene went down. A mix of both the 1988 movie and the musical.

~~~~~~

"Say hi to God."

Kaboom

Veronica, with a cigarette between her fingers and a sprained ankle, made her way through the school hallway as the other students ran past her to see where the explosion came from.

She contemplated.

She feels nothing.

Is she happy that four people had to fucking die? Absolutely not.

But...

When she looks at who are dead, Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, Ram Sweeney, Jason Dean...

Honestly she only feels bad for Heather. Because as much of a bitch as she was, she had her good moments. Moments that made her seem slightly human.

Kurt and Ram, she doesn't care. Those two were rapists. She doesn't like that she pulled the trigger, but Kurt and Ram being dead meant nothing to her.

As for JD....

She hopes he sees his mother. She hopes his father grows a brain and realizes his son is gone because he was never a father to him.

But as for him literally exploding in front of her...

She feels nothing.

She can only mourn that JD she first met, the lost boy who wanted his mother and was sweet, kind, a gentleman, and caring. Not the one that died in front of her.

The crowds moved past her, Veronica is too tired to even care that no one is asking what happened to her, why she looks disheveled and has blood running down her head.

Well,

Someone did say something.

"Veronica." Heather Duke called her, in all red. Veronica can't deny that she looks good in it, but still, she hates her in it. "You look like hell." Heather Duke moved closer to her, as if to inspect her. Veronica notices the slight concern in her eyes, and how she seems to be holding back her hands from reaching out to Veronica.

Veronica hates that last detail. Heather used to always reach out to her.

"Yeah?" Veronica chuckles. "I just got back."

Then, another voice calls her. "Veronica!"

Veronica and Heather Duke turn around to see Heather McNamara running to them. "Where have you been?!"

Heather Mac looks worried. Like, really really worried. "Miss Flemming told us you killed yourself." Heather Mac actually reaches out to her, inspecting her injuries, before she rests her hands on Veronica's face.

Veronica doesn't even hide how she leans into the touch.

She then sees the red fucking scrunchie and snaps back to where she is.

Veronica moves closer to Heather Duke and turns her around to take that damn thing off her.

"Veronica, what are you doing?" Heather Duke asks.

The students who were originally going to run past them stops in their tracks when they see Veronica with the scrunchie.

She wears it on her wrist and raises it up.

Time to actually do something.

"Listen up folks, war is over. Brand new sheriff's come to town." Veronica knows she sounds tired, but fuck that. "We are done with acting evil, we will lay out weapons down." She ties her hair with the scrunchie.

Everyone is watching her.

Good.

"We're all damaged, we're all frightened, we're all freaks. But that's alright. We'll endure it, we'll survive it-" Veronica pauses slightly when she sees Betty and Martha by the crowd. She calls them. "Martha, Betty."

They both turn to look at her, clearly resisting the urge to move. Veronica takes a deep breath. "Are you free tonight?"

Martha and Betty look at each other, before turning back to Veronica. They actually move forward this time.

It was silent for a while.

"What?" Martha breaks the silence.

"Uh, my date to pep rally blew-"

Accidental slip

"-me off..."

That's better

"So I was wondering if you guys weren't doing anything tonight we could pop some jiffy pop? Rent a video?" Veronica can hear how hopeful she sounds.

She doesn't have the right to be hopeful after what she did, but she still is.

"Something with a happy ending." She finishes. Veronica really wants a happy ending right now.

"Are there any happy endings?" Martha asks. Gosh, she sounds so tired. Betty isn't even looking at her in the eye.

Veronica looks at everyone around them and sighs. She turns back to her--hopefully still best friends. "I can't promise no more Heathers, high school may not ever end." She steps closer. "Still I miss you, I'd be honored-" She swallows. "If you'd let me be your friend."

"My friend." Martha says, as she takes Veronica by the hand and pulls her into a hug.

"We can be seventeen. We can learn how to chill." Veronica feels tears form in her eyes as Martha joins her. "If no one-"

Then, Betty joins them. "-loves me now, someday somebody will." She finally meets Veronica's gaze. "We can be seventeen. Still time to make things right. One day we'll change the world, but let's kick back tonight."

This time, it's Veronica who reaches out her to Heather Duke and Heather Mac.

Heather Mac immediately grabs her hand. "Let's go be seventeen. Take off our clothes and dance."

Veronica walks, well, limps, towards Heather Duke and reaches out, a silent plea in her eyes. Heather Duke hesitantly takes her hand, and once she has fully held it, Veronica pulls her into a hug.

Heather Duke puts one hand on Veronica's back, lightly returning the hug. But she grips onto Veronica's jacket as if it's a lifeline.

Veronica sighed. She really missed her. She didn't like what the scrunchie turned her into.

But holy shit, did she missed her.

"Act like we're all still kids, cause this could be our final chance."

Veronica smiles as she sees Betty, Martha, Heather M, and Heather D all try to be nice to each other.

Maybe they can all be friends.

Now everyone is joining them.

"Always be seventeen

Celebrate you and I

maybe we won't grow old.

And maybe then we'll never die."

Veronica feels happy. Genuinely, happy.

She missed that.

"We'll make it beautiful."

Veronica swears she hears Heather Chandler's voice.

"We'll make it beautiful.

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beautiful"

This really feels like a win for Veronica.

[moonyheartbot]

jonny travels dimensions

The first place Jonny goes to is close to home - well, his home, anyway.

His house, and everything in it, look the same; so much so that he doesn’t even notice anything is off until he walks downstairs and finds a small child sitting at the breakfast table. 

He’s halfway to the pantry before the morning fog clouding his mind dissipates long enough for him to whip his head hard enough for it to hurt and blurt out a few select choice words, forgetting to censor himself. It’s his house! He can cuss around an intruder, no matter how old they are.

The little fair-haired kid blinks at him and then his face starts to crumble, just a little. 

Jonny doesn’t do kids - let alone kids he doesn’t know. He starts looking around the kitchen as the child quietly cries at the table, hoping he can find some clue as to let him know he’s dreaming. He even counts his fingers, and leans heavily on the pantry door while his mind spins.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you just going to let him cry?” He hears a voice behind him, half-teasing and so, so familiar. “Jon? Are you okay?” 

He turns around, half-expecting for everything to shatter in the millisecond it takes for his eyes to connect with Patrick’s, but nothing; it’s him, aged up a little and holding the kid in his arms, now slightly consoled. 

“Am I… Did I get high last night?”

Patrick steps closer, and like this Jonny can see the evidence of age even more clearly; the deep crows feet and that little line between his eyebrows where he furrows his forehead constantly in concentration. He doesn’t even hear the light slapping of another pair of feet on the ground before two clammy arms wrap themselves around his leg. 

A dark-blonde girl with the second bluest eyes Jonny has ever seen stares up at him and grins, toothlessly.

He registers Patrick talking to him, but it’s just background noise below the piercing ringing in his ears, and he only feels a slight twinge of pain as he hits the ground before passing out. 

When he wakes up, it’s night time. He stares up at the ceiling, blinks hard, and turns over to cough. His hand comes away wet, palm sticky with blood and saliva, and he takes himself to the bathroom to wash his mouth out and stare at himself in the mirror.

He’s himself. He knows this much; his face is his, and this house is his, and he can’t hear anything. He can feel the memory of the dream fading away as he stands before his reflection, and when he returns to his bed with the right side rucked up and his socks on the ground, the pillow his scent of cologne and the blackout curtains drawn, the memory’s fully gone.

I love writing Jonny losing his mind. This story is going to be huge, if I can finish it. <3

[purple-scrunchie]

JDoodle from last week I forgot to post

[kierancaz]

You know what I find really funny. That fact I have read multiple Harry Potter fics where the characters have letterman jackets and stuff but I have NEVER come across a fic about literally any of the Twst characters who all canonically have letterman jackets.

[redlinereblogs]

I was talking with the incredibly kind and wonderful @towez. She wanted a story about 1988 doing laundry and talking about Little Leagues for their kiddo and then I wrote this

It's 2am and their flight back into Chicago was delayed because of the rain. They were stuck on the tarmac for HOURS and Adam ate through all his plane snacks before they even took off. 

Jonny had ended up giving Adam his snacks too, which was good for soothing a fussing four-year-old but bad when it turned out the airline had messed up and given his gluten-free meal to someone else. So instead of a cranky hungry four-year-old, Pat had to deal with a cranky hungry almost 40-year-old the rest of the flight. 

At least Adam had fallen asleep on the drive home from the airport and had stayed mostly asleep while Jon unbuckled him from the carseat and carried him inside. 

Pat agreed to handle the luggage while Jon handled the kid. He’d pulled out their toiletry kits and put them in the bath. He’d plugged Jon’s dead iPad in and ran a baby wipe over it (cleaning off Adam’s sticky finger prints) and dug his kindle out to plug it in too. He found the souvenirs they’d gotten and set those aside. All that’s really left to deal with at this time of night is the laundry. 

Pat drags the bags into the laundry room and starts sorting the clothes out. He loves his husband more than life but Jon does not understand how to sort clothes. He still washes reds and whites together and sees no issue at all in that.

The soft, “You could’ve left it” startles Pat. He looks up with a start and Jon smiles. “Keep that head up, Kaner.” 

Pat rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Cap,” he mutters and he unballs up a pair of Paw Patrol socks and tosses them in the basket. “How’d it go

“Out like a light.” Jon digs into one of the bags and starts to help. “Honestly, you could have left it Pat. I’ll get it tomorrow.” 

“I know. I got it.” He reaches for Jon’s bag and brushes him away. “I’m just sorting it. Don’t worry. You got the kid. I’ll get the clothes."

“Okay.” Jon smiles to himself as he watches Pat sort their dirty clothes into piles. He hops onto the counter to settle in and watch. The silence between them is comfortable and Jon wonders if this is the moment. He decides that it is.

“So, I was talking to Adam about the fall,” Jon carefully starts. 

Pat’s head whips up and his eyes catch Jon’s. They hold for a moment then, very deliberately, he looks back down to zip up his bag and grab Adam’s. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Jon waits a beat. “He wants to try baseball this year.” 

Jon watches Pat’s face as he scowls. “Baseball?” Pat echoes. “I thought he wanted to try gymnastics?” 

“He did. Does,” Jon concedes. “But then Ryan said he was doing baseball so now Adam wants to do baseball.”

Pat’s scowl deepens. Ryan is fine. Ryan’s parents are not. But, it’s not Pat’s call; it’s Adam’s. “Okay. That’s fine.” But then, “Is it…Will it…” He’s not sure how to phrase it and echoes of his own father stop his tongue.

“It’s a shortened season because of the weather,” Jon answers, understanding immediately.  “It’ll be over before hockey starts.”

Pat nods and zips up Adam’s now empty bag. “Good. That’s—does he still…?”

Jon waits a beat but when there’s no more from Pat, “He said he still wants to try hockey too. He just wants to play with Ryan first.”

Pat nods again and then clenches his hands. He doesn’t have any more sorting to occupy himself. He knows Jon already knows, and Adam too, but he still feels the need to add, “I don’t want to push him. Not if he—if he doesn’t want to play hockey, or if he wants to stop or—I just don’t want to push him.”

Jon hops down from the counter. “You aren’t, Pat.” He puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder and looks him in the eye. “You aren’t pushing him at all.”

Glancing away from his husband, “Then why did he tell you he wanted to play baseball,” Pat counters. “Why didn’t he tell me?’’

“Because I was the one who picked him up from Ryan’s before we left and he told me then,” Jon answers. “That’s all it was. He asked me as we were almost out the door and Jen told me she’d send the info. That’s all.” Jon waits from Pat’s gaze to land on him again. “I was just the one who picked him up, Pat. He would have asked you too. He just got to me first.”

Pat nods. He supposes that makes sense. But still, “Okay. But if I ever…”

“I know, Pat.” 

“You have to tell me.”

“I will.”

“Promise me.” 

“I promise.”

“I meant it,” Pat counters fiercely, his eyes bright. 

Jon brings up his hand, spits into it, and holds it out, “Promise.”

Pat recoils. “That’s disgusting.”

Jon’s smirk is quick, “We didn’t all grow up with sisters and pinky promises, Kaner.”

Pat grabs Jon’s wrist and shoves his husband’s hand into his own shirt to wipe off the spit. “At least our promises were sanitary.”

Jon chuckles and pulls Pat in, smiling a kiss into Pat’s temple and bringing a hand up to the nape of his neck. Jon soothes a thumb over the softly curling hair at Pat’s hairline and says softly, “I promise to let you know if you’re ever acting like him.”

Pat lets out a sign and wraps his arms around Jon’s middle. “Thank you.” And then, “Ditto.” 

Jon snorts a laugh and pulls Pat in tighter.

The night sinks in around them as they hold each other. The quiet of the house is a soft lullaby, beckoning them to rest. Pat pulls away and reaches for Jon’s hand. “So, tell me about this league,” he says as he pulls Jon out of the room and flicks off the light. 

“Jen actually just sent me the link the other day. It seems pretty legit.”

Pat listens intently as he leads Jon through the dark house and up the stairs to their bedroom. He smiles as Jon continues with his research into the team and the league as they dress for bed. 

“And Jen said she wasn’t sure which team Ryan was on yet but I really think that we should push to get the boys on Miller’s team. I think that guy’s got the coaching philosophy we need.”

Pat snorts as he pulls down the coverlet and gets into bed. “Coaching philosophy. Really Jon?”

Jon pauses getting into bed himself and stands up straight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means they’re four, Jon. I don’t know how much coaching philosophy matters at four.”

“What’s that—Pat. You of all people know that these are foundational years in athletic development ad—”

Pat gets up on his knees and quickly moves to cup Jon’s face. He does not want to have this fight with his AHL coach of a husband at 2am after a stupidly long travel day. “I know. I’m sorry”

“—Having the wrong coach in a position like this could impact Adam’s attitude towards sports for—”

“I know,” Pat kisses Jon, fast and hard on the mouth. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right, I know.”

“I just don’t think that this is something we should take lightly. I mean, we care which teachers he’s getting. This is just as import—”

Pat kisses him again, deeper this time, longer. “It is,” Pat says against Jon’s lips. “It is important. It’s very important. You’re right.” He pulls back to meet Jon’s eyes. “His coach is important. I shouldn't have joked.”

“No,” Jon looks down, he nudges Pat to scoot back so he can get into bed. “You shouldn’t have.”

Pat watches as his husband settles into bed and feels a weight drop in his stomach when Jon turns his back. He settles in close and puts an arm around Jon to pull his back close to Pat’s front. “What’s Miller’s approach?” he asks. 

Jon readjusts his pillow. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

“I do.” Pat presses a kiss to Jon’s neck. “Tell me.” He dots the words over Jon’s skin. “Tell me. Please tell me. Jon. I’m sorry. Tell me."

“Fine!” Jon turns over. “I’ll tell you.”

“Good. I want to hear.” Pat settles into his husband’s chest and falls asleep to Jon’s deep voice telling him all about all the research (aka: borderline Facebook stalking) Jon did on all the coaches in the league.

“It’s not stalking, Pat. It’s research. The website wasn't detailed enough. I want to know what other parents were saying.”

[marypsue]

“What is it? What’s happening to me? How do I stop it?” “I can’t name what you are now,” Chavez says, almost mournfully. “I tried to warn you all. I saw our paths ending in blood.” “Please, if there’s something, anything I can do -” But Chavez is already shaking his head, slow. He’s rising to his feet as he says, “It’s too late. The hunger will eat you whole.”

I watched (most of) Young Guns (1988) and got The Lost Boys (1987) brainrot all over it. In my defense, vampire cowboys.

[flowerprintundies]

Doodles inspired by @from-beyond 's Dead Man Walking fic, "Time"

Time

[december1983]

The Life We Needed All Along

Third in the New York 1988 series. After getting married in the Summer of 1989, Elio and Oliver continue their life together in New York with their young sons Simon and Noah.

New Chapter: Simon Turns Five

Simon turns five. And his dads are a little angsty, of course.

[steddielicious]

So next up for peak bi experience is Joyce Byers.

Joyce Byers, who is still Joyce Maldonado in 1956. She’s the daughter of a doctor in Hawkins, living a comfortable upper middle class life that she hates. So at fourteen, she starts dating twenty-year-old Lonnie Byers, who her father loathes. Daddy Dearest threatens to kick her out if she doesn’t break up with him after a pregnancy scare; she focuses on her friends and school. She forms a clique of girls who idolize her and are fascinated with her tragic forced break-up and salacious stories. Her friends would never dare to approach boys and be labeled as hussies, but they all want to know how to kiss them at upcoming Semiformal and Winter Formal and Homecoming and Prom. Joyce is thrilled at the power she holds in teaching her gal pals to kiss. She gets to pull breathy whimpers out of the other girls and she can’t even get pregnant from it. 

By the time she’s a junior, Joyce and Jim Hopper are scandalously best friends. She’s queen bee and he’s a notorious ladies man, but they don’t ever date. People gossip about how it’s not right for boys and girls to act the way they do with each other and they don’t care. They skip class to smoke and compare their exploits. Jim just laughs when Joyce says Alice Gilbert let her feel her tits when she wouldn’t even let Jim kiss her. 

After they graduate, Jim goes to Vietnam and Joyce to NYU where she has grand plans to be a realtor after a degree in psychology or something. She hasn’t changed much from high school and finds herself around the same type of girls, this time as part of Kappa Kappa Delta. She gets close to a girl named Rachel and spends all of her undergrad at her side. That is, until December 1963, senior year. Sigma Chi is hosting a luau, so Joyce and Rachel go all out. They’ve got grass skirts and coconut bras, even managing to rustle up leis made of real flowers. Sangria flows all night, and by 3 am, Joyce has Rachel in her bed, plying her with endless kisses. It feels so, so right, but in the morning, Rachel says that she thinks they shouldn’t be friends anymore. It’s just not what girls are supposed to do with each other. 

This lights a fire under Joyce. She is enraged by constantly being told what she is supposed to do, who she is supposed to be. So she drops out. She returns to Hawkins for Christmas and does the exact opposite of what a sorority girl is supposed to do. She heads straight into Lonnie Byers’ bed and they’ve eloped by June. This is the final straw for her parents, who take her younger siblings and move to Boston. They don’t provide any contact information. Joyce lives off of her rage and her broken heart, though she doesn’t quite realize how it got there. Rachel’s face still flits through her mind when her husband is drunkenly fucking her. She tries to drown out the sounds of masculine grunts with her memories of coconuts knocking together. Lonnie is furious once she’s cut off from her family funds, so she takes a job at Melvald’s to help make ends meet and stick it to the system that told her she had to graduate from university and marry a finance major right after. 

It’s not until 1967 that her fury subsides. She and Lonnie have somehow created the most beautiful baby boy, Jonathan, who is the center of her universe. She becomes a stay-at-home mom to him and their next son, William, until money runs out; she has to return to Melvald’s when Will is only two. Being a parent to her boys and keeping Lonnie off of all of their backs is exhausting; Joyce mellows. She is no longer the temperamental young woman telling the world to fuck off. She just wants Lonnie out. Jim Hopper moves back to town, dealing with his own heartbreak at his daughter’s death and his subsequent divorce. He and Joyce don’t reconnect much beyond surface level chats when they run into each other around town, but that’s fine for now. Their time will come. 

Divorce papers are served to Lonnie on Joyce’s fortieth birthday and it turns into an explosive fight, as all their disagreements do. And Joyce knows this isn’t healthy for their sons, but she needs to show them that she will always stand up for them and herself. Because she’s Joyce Fucking Byers. 

And once it’s just the three of them, she keeps the Byers name. She associates it more with her boys than Lonnie anyways. Joyce doesn’t even think about dating, especially once Will goes missing a year later and their world is turned upside down. Jim Hopper reintegrates himself into her life and this crazy mindfuckery. 

But then that’s done and Bob Newby is just such an extreme opposite from Lonnie that it’s easy to slip into a relationship with him. And then the Upside Down is back and Bob is brutally killed. Time passes and Jim asks her to dinner, which she forgets, because of the magnets, and then he has the audacity to die just as the potential for something starts to appear; now Joyce has the sweetest daughter as well. And she has to protect her kids and leave this toxic, cursed town, so it’s time to head for California. There isn’t any time to date anyone and Joyce is well-practiced at ignoring her urges to ruin the careful hair and makeup of the polished women that Lenora Hills is full of. (She hates them all so much and doesn’t connect these feelings to the thrills of her youth at making pretty girls gasp and pant against her.)

Then Hopper is alive and Joyce thinks that for the first time ever, she’s actually in love. (She thinks she came close with Bob, but alas.) She still notices beautiful women, but so does everyone. It’s normal to appreciate when a woman has a gorgeous smile or can hold herself well in heels, right?

Christmas 1986 brings the usual shuffling of Steve Harrington between the various Party households for each meal. The Hopper-Byers home has the honour of hosting him for Christmas dinner, for which he provides two homemade pies and a topic of conversation that seems suspiciously well-rehearsed with Jonathan. 

Very, very casually, the two oldest boys bring up David Bowie, and a little thing called bisexuality. Will and El share several looks, but are overall attentive. Joyce can see the surprise on Steve’s face as Hop asks more questions than either of the younger kids. She stays silent, but Hop gently takes her trembling hand under the table, giving her a soft look. 

After dessert, Joyce escapes to the back porch for a well-needed smoke and reflection. Lovely, kind Steve wants to check in on her and, she can tell, gauge if she has any disgust at the dinner’s main conversation. 

And maybe it’s strange that the first person she says these words are to Steve Harrington, not Hop or any of her kids, but she sends a silent prayer up to Bob that she’s not making a massive mistake. 

“I think,” she pauses to take a shaky drag of her cigarette, “No, I am bisexual.”

See more in the series at #peak bi experience

Crossposted to AO3 here

[meidnightrain]

NEW ROMANTICS - beidou

summary: after a breakup, a night out with your drinking buddy and crux captain makes you realise maybe life isn’t as cruel as you thought

warnings: reader is gn, featuring ningguang

notes: day 16 and the last day for the main tracks! i tried to end it off strong for this one before i’d move on to the angstier ones to come so i hope this uplifts your spirits!

taglist (open): @staretes , @rynnlvrs , @sentifua , @i-probably-sleep-too-much , @reilly34 , @qqingque , @akutasoda , @mhiieee , @starryshinyskies , @kazemiya , @pix-stuff , @inscaraithrust

drinking your heart out with beidou wasn’t an uncommon experience for the both of you. the captain could handle her liquor fairly well and well, drinking was a good way to get over a breakup, wasn’t it?

but the mug of beer in your hand stayed full through the entire night, there was something about beidou that you’ve never seen about. not that she was gorgeous or that she could come off as boisterous, you’d established that upon your first encounter.

“we’re all just bored, we’re all so tired of everything.” you had murmured, a thoughtful look crossing your face. was it because that when you were both young, you’d feel this urge to try something new all the time? you’d wait for boats that weren’t coming, show off your different scarlet letters and compare which one was better.

you were young, but you were on the road to ruin. no matter how hard you’d try to play dumb, you knew what exactly you were doing and the consequences of your actions whether it be good or bad. and when you’d cry tears of mascara in the bathroom at every challenge that life had thrown at you, you’d bounce back stronger.

“honey, life is just a classroom. you learn every step of the way. heartbreak is a part of the experience,” drawled ningguang, a smirk on her lips as she twirled pieces of jade in between her gold covered fingernails.

“you know, i could build a classroom out of all the bricks they throw at me. ningguang included but it’s more of taxes than bricks.” the pirate captain laughed heartily, slamming the bottom of her mug on the table, ningguang rolling her eyes at beidou’s words.

“every day is like a battle, but every night with the both of you is like a dream.” you nodded along to the captain’s words, following what she was trying to say.

living it out in the big city of liyue harbor with nothing but your heart in your hands and a dream, the lights and noise could be blinding at times. you’d wait finding love out, it was all in the timing anyway. it was like playing poker in a way, they’d never it in your face but you were about to play your ace. every heartbreak meant to break you down could never tarnish your wild youth.

“think about it, do you need love? or is all you want danger?” beidou continued, taking your full cup and swapping it for her empty one. it looked like she was doing all the drinking today.

she was right. you’d team up and switch sides like a record changer. the rumors that people would spew out of their mouths like poison would be terrible and cruel but then again, most of them were true. you wanted to feel young and free, not tied down by any chains.

wasn’t it weird that such things that could make you rethink what you’ve gone through, would be said by a half-drunk beidou? you were about to reply until she suddenly grabbed your hand, much to your shock and amusement of ningguang.

now seeing life in a new light, the rose tinted glasses you had now were off and you could see the bright lights illuminating the city at night from the view of the jade chamber. and all you could see was beidou’s flushed face in front of yours, taking your hand and leading you into a dance to the background music that was playing faintly, you being louder than the melodies of the song. hear nothing but the roar of your hearts and the amused chuckle from ningguang as she nursed her glass of wine.

you were young and you should be celebrating every moment you had. heartbreak is the national anthem and you’d sing it proudly cause you were both too busy dancing to knocked off your feet by whatever was thrown at you with the intent to get you down. right now, you’d enjoy life, make memories and dance like no one was watching.

because the best people in life like your friends, was free.

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[thedeadestgirleverdied]

As much as I love the Yurification of heathers, I think it's still important to address that they're in the late 80’s