seraphluciel
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In the end, it doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters. Because what’s really in control is the tension. This elusive string tied between their chests that’s always changing length. Right now it’s so short and taught and strong that Will can’t imagine resisting it. So really, it was never a matter of if he would. Just when. When will he fold? When will he let go and let himself follow Mike into the water?
He dares to glance down at his knees, where he can see Mike’s fingers peeking out from behind his calves (as if he needed that visual reminder that they’re touching), and then back up to meet Mike’s expectant gaze.
He’s going to do it. He’s such a fucking idiot.
OR
Mike & Will have a long overdue conversation on the way back to Hawkins— by, in, and around a random motel pool.
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Bookmarked by seraphluciel
30 Apr 2026
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Mike grins so widely that he displays each one of his baby teeth. "Open it," he says. "It's a card. I made it for you."
When Will gingerly peels the birthday card open, Mike’s uneven handwriting is displayed across the page.
The p’s in happy are backwards, the y wobbly and curled at the end, and the k in Mike is also flipped the wrong way. The word birthday is etched in their kindergarten teacher’s steady print, and it seems like she'd also added the punctuation for him.
Happy birthday, Will!
Love,
Mike WOr: Will Byers' birthdays from age six to adulthood, told through cards from Mike.
Bookmarked by seraphluciel
07 Apr 2026
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That seems to click something in the woman’s head, because in three seconds flat, she’s pulling her helmet back and staring her dark eyes dead into Will’s.
Will’s eyes widen and he hears Jane’s shocked gasp beside him.
Underneath the helmet, underneath all the scars and jagged lines, stares back—
“I am Michaela Childress, firstborn daughter of House Acer, Sworn Paladin to the Kingdom of Holkins, and Right Hand to the Queen Regent.” She seethes, the hard line in her jaw tightening as she glowers at Will. “The Queen Regent, whose face you have adapted as your own.”
Okay, so it’s not just him.
This woman clearly looks like Mike.
(or, the one where michaela childress is all but a lonely paladin that misses her wife so much that she risks her life, jumps into an unknown portal, and inadvertently causes distress and awakens realizations among the local populace.)
Bookmarked by seraphluciel
05 Apr 2026
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“Just saying, if you’re taking another hit, you should share it with me,” Mike says, and Will slowly tilts his head, drinking in every word. “It just makes sense. Like, mathematically.”
Will’s reddened eyes narrow, bewildered. “Mathematically?”
“If there’s two hits left, we’d each only get one,” Mike explains. “But if we shotgunned, we’d both get two.” God, this is the best idea he’s had in ages. He should’ve stolen Will’s weed, like, months ago. “That’s like, bang for your buck. This is simple math, Will Byers. Keep up.”
In which it’s well past midnight in New York, Will can’t sleep, and Mike feels like they barely know each other anymore.
So, they get a little high. Mike is very normal about all of it.
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Bookmarked by seraphluciel
11 Feb 2026
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yes, a sword (will pierce through your own soul also) by drunkrunnings
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
07 Nov 2025
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“The unclean,” the priest says, lifting his Bible upwards, the glow of the red light casting a halo around it. “The unclean will be cast out. This is the type that can only be driven out by prayer. This kind.” His eyes slide to Will, a hungry, taunting smile stretching across his face. “Your kind.”
or
A church, a possession, a kiss.
Bookmarked by seraphluciel
27 Jan 2026