#night one: before the funeral

[sinclairss]

PLAYER, THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS TOP SECRET AND NOT TO BE SHARED WITH ANY PLAYERS IC OR OOC FOR THE NEXT WEEK! YOUR CHARACTER, HOWEVER, MAY ALLUDE TO WHAT THEY ARE ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE. FOR THE NEXT WEEK, THEY MAY EXPERIENCE INCREASED PARANOIA, EXTREME MISTRUST, FLASHBACKS, NIGHTMARES, SORE THROAT, AND RESTLESSNESS. WELCOME HOME!

It wasn’t unusual for you to be at Hawkins Middle late into the night. You were a devoted teacher. Not like you had much else going on. You turned out of the teacher’s lounge where you had just poured yourself another cup of coffee. The school was…unsettling at night. Hawkins Middle was old when you went there, now it was certifiably ancient. The uniquely moldy smell seemed to be stronger at night, there was no shortage of creaks, but most of all, the buzzing of fluorescent lights was far too loud for anyone to be comfortable. Secretly? You were excited to get back to your classroom, but it seemed it would have to wait. You turned the corner and saw your keys dangling from the door of the A/V Room, now unlocked and open. For a moment, you scanned the area before deciding to just check the damn room. On the wall projected, was a newspaper clipping of Joyce’s obituary. But you watched cruelly as the ‘O’ in Joyce transformed into an ‘A’ and the ce fell off the wall completely into seemingly nothing. Before your very own eyes, you’re suddenly reading the name Jay DeMario– what a guy. You tend to remember him warmly, how could you forget someone like that after all. But it quickly dawns on you that you’re reading an obituary from 1985– that’s not right! You frown as you urgently begin to read the first couple of  lines, but before you can really process the screen flickers and the projector turns off, leaving you alone in the dark.

[murraybaumanz]

PLAYER, THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS TOP SECRET AND NOT TO BE SHARED WITH ANY PLAYERS IC OR OOC FOR THE NEXT WEEK! YOUR CHARACTER, HOWEVER, MAY ALLUDE TO WHAT THEY ARE ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE. FOR THE NEXT WEEK, THEY MAY EXPERIENCE INCREASED PARANOIA, EXTREME MISTRUST, FLASHBACKS, NIGHTMARES, SORE THROAT, AND RESTLESSNESS. WELCOME HOME!

Let’s face it, you’re a smart guy. One of Hawkins best and brightest! Because of that, you seldom give out your address. Even clients just get the P.O Box. The only person who used to send you packages was Joyce, so when you see one on your doorstep, naturally you’re curious. Was it something from Joyce? For once, you were willing to set aside your suspicions in the name of your dearest friend. You unlock your several locks and deadbolts and peek your head out into the night. This deep in the forest, all you can hear are the cries of insects, and a couple of hooting owls. Clearly the package had been sitting in there. Carefully, you bring it inside, so enraptured with the prospect of it being from Joyce, you forget to lock your door when you take it back in. You tear open the package only to find something much more sinister, a pristine lab coat clearly embroidered with Hawkins Lab, a mock up pamphlet of “provided services”, and finally a file of documents with the Hawkins Lab stamp that had Bauman, Murray scrawled on the tab. 

[artificerdusty]

PLAYER, THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS TOP SECRET AND NOT TO BE SHARED WITH ANY PLAYERS IC OR OOC FOR THE NEXT WEEK! YOUR CHARACTER, HOWEVER, MAY ALLUDE TO WHAT THEY ARE ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE. FOR THE NEXT WEEK, THEY MAY EXPERIENCE INCREASED PARANOIA, EXTREME MISTRUST, FLASHBACKS, NIGHTMARES, SORE THROAT, AND RESTLESSNESS. WELCOME HOME!

Having twins, a library job, and an illustrious inventing career leaves you with very little down time, but one way you can unwind at the end of the day is a good book. Lately, you’ve been on a kick with the classic Sherlock Holmes novels. You open the Hounds of Baskerville, sinking into your designated chair and amusedly reading the lines. You flip the page though, and it’s blank. Frowning in confusion, you flip back to the page you were on, only to find it blank once more. In a hurry, you set the book down on your footrest, trying to flip from front to back to find any words. An increased sense of panic is growing when you can find none and you slam the book closed. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as a couple of seconds pass when you try to open the book again. This time, you’re met with transcripts of your aol logs with Suzie, phone calls, each page you turn the more incriminating things become. A ringing swells in your ear as it all becomes too much and you throw the book at the wall. 

[hislittleraincloud]

I know that look. I've seen that look.

[halfyearsqueen]

visenya’s stillbirth genuinely is so devastating to think about because the implications of it are ?

[ratbastarddotfuck]

oh they didn't even BOTHER inviting me to aunty Net's funeral. I really am estranged.

[kitnita]

.

[sophfandoms53]

Putting Ratcole, Cameron, Frankie, and Cauliflower on the same level of legendary status as Britney, Taylor, Danielle, Josh, and Xavier is kinda nuts imo

[jonathanbyersphd]

No because if there's one thing Jonathan and Nancy are gonna do its wear matching or complementary outfits

[crmsnmth]

Mannequins

This room is filled with mannequins Some dressed up as people from my past There's the girl with the ocean blue eyes Who I still love even after all this time Dressed in sunshine and forgotten dance steps

There's the violent codependent abusive With red blood painted on it's pale plastic skin I stare at it, daring it to make a move because this time I won't let them in

There's the gay man who sold me drugs sometimes for money, sometimes for love Where I learned I have no limits for depravity and that I never really knew my own sexuality

Here's the girl from California who I think of daily my best friend when I had no friends the one who listened to me cry on late and lonely nights And I'm reminded of how much I miss her

Leaning haphazardly against the wall is kid a tragic romance if there ever was one five years of each other's life we wasted before we realized we just didn't work

With missing limbs is my junkie angel And her last words to me play like a scratched vinyl "You need to get clean or your going to die" And a month later she swallowed her tongue and i skipped out on the funeral

I walk through this room of memories The most important people in my stories And I am overwhelmed with nostalgia and sadness I miss you all so much, so so much.

I see my best friend growing up we stopped talking ten years ago because he said he didn't want to watch me burn And I can't say I'd ever blame him

I love you all. I'm sorry.

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

The amount of times I have had a thought to send to my sister and remembered she will never get it 😭

[the-kipsabian]

.

[finexbright]

so he like really truly wore a tank top huh like that wasn't a collective fever dream it actually exists

[warrior-of-sunlight]

Finished drawing the funeral card we are going to send to family and friends today. First thing I actually finish drawing in months and it's this. My dad always loved to see my work and I feel so bad for not being able to draw much since 2020 due to depression.

Made something pretty simple. He loved animals, especially squirrels. He used to have a pet chipmunk as a kid called Puf. I made a red squirrel in red/orange sitting on a branch with some oak leaves in blue. On the back of the card two butterflies in the same two colours. He also loved butterflies. I drew one common blue and one European peacock butterfly. My sister picked the common blue and I picked the peacock butterfly.

He would always point out bugs, plants and animals when we went on walks when I was little and tell me what they were. He knew so much and was endlessly curious. He often talked about how he was so amazed by salamanders and mice etc, how they had such tiny skeletons and were complete even when they were so little, he commented on their tiny fingers quite often. That sentiment rubbed off on me, I think a lot of things did.

[milo-is-rambling]

Just remembered how one of my dedicated to people last roadtrip literally was like “oh actually I don’t think you can stay here tonight I have work early tomorrow :(“ after driving like seven and a half hours to him (and he texted me this when I was an hour away from his house and we had literally talked about my plans to stay there all day) like hello red flag red flag red flag

[watermelinoe]

one thing i will say in defense of the mandela effect people is that most of the accounts i've seen are like childhood memories from the 70s/80s of seeing his televised funeral and then being super confused when they hear he's been released in 1990/becomes president in 1994. children and teens aren't typically the best at keeping up w international politics, especially without the internet