* ‎ ♯1 ‎⠀ᴰᴬᴰ

*ㅤ ‎ყσυㅤ ㅤ ㅤd̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 ㅤ ㅤ ㅤaround ㅤ ㅤ ㅤwith ㅤ ㅤ ㅤᴶᴵᴹ ..

[chiefhop]

#𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗘𝗙𝗛𝗢𝗣. ░ private + low activity JIM HOPPER as written by mo. ₑₛₜ. NOV 2025.  ⤷ rules under cut.

# STEVE. MULTI. PROMPTS. PINTEREST. PLAYLIST. VERSES.

＊ ‎ ⁱ⠀ .. ؟ DIRECTIVE. please read below. .. NOT SPOILER-FREE.

[A] CONTENT WARNING. THIS BLOG IS A SOLO WRITING BLOG FOR JIM HOPPER. ALL CONTENT ACROSS MY BLOGS IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES (21+). EXPECT TO FIND PLENTY OF CONTENT LIKE VIOLENCE, DRUGS/ALCOHOL, COARSE LANGUAGE AND OTHER SENSITIVE TOPICS. MOST THINGS WILL GO UNTAGGED. AS STRANGERS IS LISTED IN MANY DNIs, I WILL RARELY FOLLOW NON ST BLOGS FIRST.

[B] THIS BLOG IS MUTUAL FOLLOW. ALL REPLIES/ASKS ARE WRITTEN WITH THE INTENTION OF CONTINUATION. I WORK FULLTIME AND SPEND MORE TIME THERE THAN AT HOME. SO, SHOULD YOU NOT FIND ME CURRENTLY ACTIVIE, ASSUME MY MESSAGES ARE.

[C] JOYCE + JIM. IN A GENERAL SENSE, I RECGONIZE JOYCE AS JIM'S ROMANTIC PARTNER. HOWEVER, IT IS NOT SOMETHING I HAVE TO ASSUME AND IT'S NOT EXCLUSIVE. ANY OTHER ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS ARE GOING TO BE PLOT BASED. ( .. ) WHILE MUN AND MUSE IS OF AGE, EXPLICIT NSFW CONTENT WILL NEVER BE PRESENT ON THIS BLOG. IT'S JUST NOT SOMETHING I'M INTERESTED IN. IF ANYTHING SUGGESTIVE EVER DOES, IT WILL BE TAGGED SIMPLY AS NSFW. BUT IT'S UNLIKELY.

[D] IF YOU USE NOAH SCHNAPP AS A FC, I AM NOT INTERESTED IN WRITING. ALSO, GIVEN THE FANBASE AND IMPLICATIONS SURROUNDING BILLY HARGROVE, I HAVE NO PARTICULAR INTEREST IN WRITING WITH HIM. YOU CAN WRITE WITH HIM, YOU DO YOU, BUT HE DOESN'T SERVE ANY PURPOSE TO ME. ( .. ) I TEND TO KEEP DRAMA AND OTHER VARIOUS CALLOUTS OFF MY BLOG FOR MY OWN COMFORT. IT'S JUST A PRACTICE THAT CAN TEND TO BE TOXIC, UNLESS THE INDIVUAL IS GENIUNELY HARMFUL / ABUSIVE IN THE COMMUNITY. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO PLACE FOR RACISM, PEDOPHILIA, HOMOPHOBIA, ANTI-BLM, TRUMP SHIT ON MY DASH. DON'T BE NASTY.

[chiefhop]

how yall doin

[upsides]

BLOG ROLL. ( 3/24/2026 ) @upsides + stranger things multi. @chiefhop + jim hopper. @glossfang + regina george. ... ⋆ @bat20s + eddie munson.

[lordbelacqua]

When I was a kid, and you found me in the woods... I was scared. Really scared. I didn't understand the world. I didn't understand... people. You took me in. Raised me. Protected me. You became my dad.

STRANGER THINGS 5x08

[rivhersbye]

_ / ... he bears the brunt of it. the weight of the world. it's an anchor shackled to his ankle that PULLS HIM DOWN into the depths and the harder he struggles to break the surface, the deeper he sinks. shelby has seen it before she watches him now, her keen eyes boring into his troubled gaze, like she's reading him as easily as though his inner most thoughts were printed in ink across the drawn lines of his face. but, they've KNOWN EACH OTHER long enough by now, it should be easy for her. small smile follows his reiteration, a gentle shrug as if to say why not, and shelby hummed. “ah,” she draws out “you look it.” the barest scrunch of her nose, LIGHT HUMOUR in the wake of emotional turmoil. “no offense.” she offers quietly.

mind races as it keeps pace with the thoughts that war behind hopper’s eyes : she can see them. and while she can read him easily enough, not everything is so easily understood. WHAT HAS HE SEEN? WHAT DOES HE KNOW? grief had made itself at home in the sinew and bone of his body, creating a path jim followed at a crawl that, given time, would have lead him into the same grave where his daughter is buried … he still looks haunted, understandably, but there’s a sense of renewed purpose growing in his guts too. it’s a small relief that she expresses with a tiny part of her lips and a slow exhale.

shelby sees. but she also listens. so good at both is she that she made it her life’s work, dedicated her career to seeing and listening and talking … “most kids are,” arms unfold from around her chest, hands moving to clasp in her lap as she leans a little further against the edge of her desk. as he walks forward : “will has a good support system, HE JUST NEEDS TIME. and it was hard for joyce when will disappeared … it’ll be harder now that he’s home. but she’ll manage. she’s tough too.” shelby followed him with her eyes as he sat opposite her. “i’ve talked to jon … he’s a little like you.” carrying the pain of others while ignoring his own. shelby reached out with her foot, nudging at hopper’s calf light heartedly.

small smile remains, softened and slight shelby shrugged. “some are easy. others are … not so.” the irony being that she sees and she listens and she talks : but never about herself. she can’t unload any burdens she may bear because MOST OF THEM aren’t her own. but it’s okay. she chose this. just like hop. “ … i do. don’t you.” shelby dropped her hands to the desk, bracing herself by curling her fingers into the wood. she tilted her head. “i’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours … the record’s still off.”

[chiefhop]

you'll see , some deformed & misshapen relic of confession sits on the horizon ... is she always this pushy ? or is this private cruelty reserved for him and for this moment ? she presses in that way that is inevitability. this gravitational pull masquerading as curiosity. AT THE NUDGE, DOES HE LAUGH. a sound dragged over gravel, brittle at the edges and performative in its causality. his weight shifts, boots grinding into the carpet. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 ? shoulders rise then, fall. this anatomical shrug that pretends at indifference while something interior tightens and contracts. “ i do. ” of course he sees it. though, hawkins is small. more rather, contained. a specimen pinned beneath glass and preserved in the lie of its own stillness until THE VANISHING OF WILL BYERS ruptured the seal. new york was a lot worse, it drug men to their knees in corridors that smell like antiseptic and regret, it hollows women out until their voices splinter into something unrecognizable, turns young people into ghosts. he's seen it all. “ pickin' it all up ... y'know, that's the job. you get it. ” she does, of course. she is the other half of the wound THE AFTER. he delivers the bodies and she is tasked with making sense of the wreckage. this conveyor belt of suffering, politely divided into before and after, cause and consequence. it is anything but humane.

“ needing to have the answers you know, it comes with the badge. keepin 'em safe, bringin' 'em home. ” they do not see the hollowness, they do not see the man that is falling. “ and sometimes, ... they don't. ” hopper's jaw cinches. his gaze deflects and deserts her entirely, fleeing to the window where the world is simpler in its decay. it had begun to rain. rain fingers the window [ SLOW, METHODICAL ] drags itself downward in streaks of gray. “ ... sticks to you. ” it's adhesion, that is the problem. his grief is no event, alone, as it has morphed itself entirely into a substance. it clings to the underside of his daily thought, to the quiet spaces between his every breath. jim hopper shakes his head brief, dismissive as though he can dislodge it. “ shitty place, hospitals. ” sara's little body with forever bloom behind his eyes, anyway. 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗴𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. jim leaves the vision as quickly as he entered it, slams the door shut. his fingers lift & scratch at the shell of his ear, a gesture small enough to pass by unnoticed, large enough to anchor him back to reality. to anyone else, jim hopper is unmoved. to her, perhaps not quite as much. “ well, that's mine. ” his hands raise and drop against the fabric of his pants and he leans forward, trespassing without permission. his hand cuts across the space of her desk to dive into a bowl. a peppermint is stolen and he breaks into the wrapper. the candy disappears into his mouth. it finds its corner, settles and stays, then he leans back into place. a gesture follows presenting some metaphorical stage before them. a deal is a deal. “ floor's yours, doc. ”

[altruims]

‘you’re lucky. you still got somebody to save. that’s rare.’ ✉️ / @chiefhop

if only he knew that they saved him . the comment nancy once mentioned always played in his memory in moments like these ‘no parents, big house’ ; a very true & clear perspective of how his life has ALWAYS BEEN . absent parents & a boy that walked through empty halls , the loneliness that created a facade just to hide the fact that he has always been alone . so to have someone to save , someone to care for , SOMEONE TO NEED HIM WAS MORE THAN ENOUGH to know his existence . the kids became a testament of the care he always wished he had without even knowing until having them around . to show up . the hesitancy he felt even mentioning it was impossible to form into words , that HE was grateful to even to have them become what he’s wondered a family should feel like .

“—nah it’s , really you guys are the ones that gave me purpose. in all of this shit that we’ve been through , i would still choose this over an empty house any day .” the truth almost confessed in lower volume so that the rest of the group wouldn’t hear , given only robin knew this side of him . & as he looks up at the kids , dustin , nancy —there’s endearment & gratitude that translated in the way he lightly smiles . shrugging his shoulders & quickly motioning them “—i mean it’s them , you. it’s all of you , you guys saved me.”

[chiefhop]

“ the empty house does get loud .. yeah .. ” and it is spectacular the way the silence accrues the mass, the way it thickens in the corners. hopper has lived inside the acoustics before he knows how an unoccupied hallway may amplify even the smallest sound, how the echo of your own steps deafen. peculiar really, it is how the absence of those you yearn most can become very loudest in the room. jim's father, mr. james hopper senior, had been a man-shaped fixture more than any father, a foundation poured and left to cure without any ornament or warmth. a man forged from war and work and unspoken expectations with hands like gravel and jaw like concrete. there had been a handful of nights where his father's fist would close around the collar of jim's jacket, jerk him forward mid-sentence. jim, a troublemaking boy, loud and defiant, big and broad-shouldered and reckless early in life, dragged half a step off his feet. remembers the smell of motor oil and tobacco on his father's winter coat. perhaps, james hopper sr believed in strength as suppression in boys being straightened out in lessons delivered by the palm of a hand, strict drudgery, and stern voices.

as a boy, jim had learned to move through rooms like a trespasser in his own house, shoulders squared in false bravados and hands too big for his wrists. then as a teenager, angry in that unrefined and incandescent sort of way, trying to out-show the vacancy that followed from room to room. well, steve harrington stands bedside him now and hopper feels the disquieting pull of recognition. not in the surface-level resemblance or the cut of his hair or sanded down swagger, but in this overwhelming and rotting architecture known as loneliness. steve had once filled spaces with noise the way hopper filled them with temper. [ hopper should try harder not to see the parallel and to not let sentimentality pry open any doors he had already shut. ] but here is this boy that is not a boy anymore.

“ y'know, you're not the same kid i met. ” the admission arrives like a peace offering placed ever so gently on the table. unadorned, but heavy with implication. jim looks at steve properly now, the teenage monarch of trivial dominions. there was once a boy with varsity jackets and bravados, but in his place stands someone tempered. “ took you a minute. but you might'a grown up. ” it's a praise, if you squint. hopper-style barbed and spare, affection wrapped in abrasion. he notices the way the younger ones orbit steve now, how they lean toward him instinctively, how trust settles in their posture. showing up, that's what really matters. no heroics or speeches, but presence. maybe they both can recognize it with the quiet reverence of someone who knows how many men will fail that simple test. “ so. what're you gonna do with it? ” with this little, precious thing you've built out of noise. with this family that has formed not from blood, but from battle. with this new house that does not have to echo the way that ours did.

[chiefhop]

* negative traits. bold what definitely applies to your muse. italicize what somewhat applies to your muse.

aries.    tries  to  do  everything  at  once,  doesn’t  know  when  to  stop  and  take  care  of  themselves,  bends  over  backwards  for  everyone  even  if  someone  did  them  dirty,  has  entirely  too  much  on  their plate.

taurus.    idealistic,  spends  a  lot  of  time  trying  to  impress  others,  doesn’t  like  to  apologize,  eating  is  a  coping  mechanism  or  just  addictive  personalities  in  general,  a  tad  co-dependent.

gemini.    the  most  flip  floppy  people  ever,  what’s  today’s  mood?,  never  apologizes,  in  denial  90%  of  the  time,  their  way  is  the  highway,  desperately  needs  a  break,  they  have  a  hard  time  setting  goals  because  their  goals  scare  them.

cancer.    the  literal  meaning  of  i’ll  give  you  the  shirt  off  my  back,  isolates  themselves  in  fear  of  someone  hurting  them,  wants  to  change  but  is  scared  of  change,  complains  a  lot  but  never  takes  advice  people  give  them.

leo.    no  one  takes  them  seriously  because  they  feel  they  always  have  to  portray  themselves  as  the  fun  one,  is  actually  really  sad  inside,  honestly  needs  a  hug,  exhausted  always.

virgo.    can  dish  it  but  can’t  take  it,  rushes  everything,  anxious,  plans  their  future  but  forgets  to  live  in  the  moment,  sometimes  ignores  their  friends  because  they  have  so  much  on  their  mind,  talks  about  themselves  a  lot  and  sometimes  forgets  to  ask  the  other  person  how  they  are.

libra.    solves  everyone’s  problems  but  their  own,  is  actually  really  sad  and  lonely,  gets  easily  heartbroken  but  tries  not  to  show  it,  will  do  anything  to  justify  bad  decisions,  honestly  just  wants  everyone  to  love  them  but  doesn’t  really  love  their  self.

scorpio.    easily  set  off,  will  give  anyone  the  cold  shoulder  at  any  time  even  without  reason,  keeps  a  lot  in,  so  observant  that  they  often  times  find  out  things  that  hurt  them,  too  many  “what  ifs”  swirling  in  their  heads,  has  trouble  showing  their  true  selves.

sagittaurus.    impatient,  brash,  commitment  issues,  body  issues,  doesn’t  realize  they  don’t  need  to  change  for  anyone,  has  a  lot  of  different  goals  to  a  point  where  they  get  overwhelmed,  just  wants  to  disappear  and  do  what  they  want  without  anyone  questioning  them.

capricorn.    scared  people  won’t  like  them  unless  they’re  at  the  top  of  their  game  24/7,  takes  a  lot  for  them  to  talk  about  their  feelings,  secretly  struggling,  fake  happy,  needs  a  plan  but  doesn’t  know  what  that  plan  is,  confident  but  insecure  at  the  same  time,  wants  to  be  stable  but  sometimes  wishes  they  could  drop  everyone’s  expectations of  them  and  live  normally.

aquarius.    gets  heartbroken  like  30  times  a  week,  trust  issues,  can  be  unmotivated  and  disinterested,  feels  they  have  to  adapt  to  every  person  they  meet  so  they  can  be  liked,  doesn’t  know  how  to  tap  into  their  emotions  despite  being  very  intuitive,  confused,  expects  little.

pisces.   empathetic  often  to  a  point  of  no  return,  plays  the  victim,  doesn’t  know  when  to  say  no,  cynical,  hermit,  is  very  impatient,  trusts  everyone  too  much,  can  be  secretly  very  critical  and  judgmental,  can  only  tolerate  maybe  ten  minutes  of  social  interaction,  needs  a  lot  of  validation.

tagged by: @hawkinsown ♡ tagging: + you ! ( bc im honestly a lil lazy to tag today. )

[nectarot]

winter bites even tucked in nylon, even in dust covered layers. it's all scavenged things through time. found treasures to keep going. the floors uncomfortable, makes her miss the futon in her poorly insulated garage and strategically placed heaters. a deep sigh lets out when she shifts, heat from her mouth turned into something visible. burning eyes catch on his figure, still sat in the same position and as if he'd been smoking the same cigarette.

he's caught on before she even really moved, his voice echoing off the empty walls of the decaying structure. she's sliding out of the bag, pulling on boots with a considerable effort with the layers and adjusting back to reality. she doesn't bother tying them, near slips on the laces as she makes her way to his set up station.

ellie rolls her eyes as she drops to the laid out sleeping bag. “ oh, well. sorry, i forgot you're the picture of good ones. ” she reaches for the pack of smokes beside him, finger tip flipping the top. she's far from interested, doesn't like the smell of nicotine compared to something else. she just knows the pack was full before they got here. “ and just how many was that? ” it's closed and tossed back, the lack of interest setting in like the cold does.

she adjusts herself, legs brought to her chest. arms curl around them to try and trap the heat, or at least start too. “ those things will kill you, you know? ” tone drops, caught behind the fabric of her sleeve there's a lot of that already trying too.

[chiefhop]

“ yeah, well. lotta things already ahead of 'em, 'those things' can get in line. ” the snort escapes him before any discretion can intervene, a coarse exhalation that scrapes its way out. advice, he thinks this noble export, renewable resource and yet how seldom he follows it. a pillar, perhaps, but one cracked clean through the middle. so, touché. “ three? or.. four. want one ? ” delivered with the same deadpan neutrality he might apply to counting bullets or gauging daylight. [ affect flattened and humor stripped. ] a beat, then. then remembers that ellie is ellie and that she cannot be given a cookie or an inch. reflex spurs back into motion, “ kidding. no. ” fatherhood intervenes, and jim turns his attention to her then, openly, studying the way she may curl inward against the cold like something small and stubborn refusing to yield. then down to too-loose boots.

[ if hopper is never anything else, he is forever observant. ] her immunity is not invulnerability and hopper knows better than most. perhaps, he should probably try harder not to notice these things, not to inventory the living the way he inventories the dead.

the cigarette finds its place at the corner of his mouth and he pats his knee once, then twice for the unlaced boot. he takes her foot with the practiced economy of someone who has tied a thousand knots under far worse conditions. some older version of himself who did not know the vocabulary of loss. this is the same motion, the same careful catch as the boot tips toward him.

sara's boots were ladybug, bright and ridiculous, scuffed from the playground concrete. always untied no matter how many times he knelt to correct the motion. she'd perch there, small and vibrating, insisting she'd almost had it, that she'd just needed to get the bunny ears right this time. he finishes the bow, laces drawn snug and tension calibrated. the room is cold and the world is even colder, and the girl's posture brings him away from such nostalgia. he pats for the next one, “ you warm enough? ”

[chiefhop]

inbox call, i miss yall.

[wthdrawn]

@chiefhop

you are no one and someone all in one. you are the memory of a girl. wrapped in chords with the gentle beep of life. you are the shallow final breath, to an unknown expiration date. but we all float down here! no one has to leave jim. now in the hallway, you are a daughter. " D-DADDDYYY !! " voice a mimic into a known delusion. petite hand holding a bright ((red)) balloon. teeth sunk in the flesh of lip, offering a wave to the older man.

[chiefhop]

“ ... sara? ” two syllables rupture the corridor. it's a hairline crack in glass, a fault so fine. it's exhumed, dragged up from a sealed chamber behind the ribs where time has been mislabeled and grief has been archived. the gun is drawn, but even this steel knows when it has wandered into the wrong cosmology. the barrel lowers. ( trembles. ) the hallway they stand in responds in elongating, receding, a perspective sort of trick authored by malice. fluorescent lights hum with the devotional buzz of hospitals, basements, morgues. “ no, no sara. ” language scrambling to impose any borders here. because it is her. UNDENIABLY, OBSCENLY yet, the illusion is wrong. she is pale in the way the very sick are, translucent, edges shimmering as if reality itself will not render her full. veins map like blue pencil marks. she is not quite the image of the bright and laughing child memory has curated. she is it. it is her. it howls for him ( D-DADDDYYY !! ) and hopper's throat constricts itself around the instinct he has to kneel before her, to beg forgiveness for the years that carried without her. “ you don't get to be here. ” jurisdiction means nothing in this liminal space. in this hallway that stretches and darkens. it does not snarl or sneer here for there is no need. THIS IS PEDAGOGY. “ what are you doing? you're supposed to be ” the sentence buckles. supposed to exist in only photographs and recollection, curated and controllable. the gun is dead weight now. perhaps the deepest horror here is not the apparition itself it is the treacherous and unbearable longing that sara might answer him if he speaks her name three times into existence.

[chiefhop]

you're not fooling me.

“ yeah? .. losin' my touch. ” phrase deployed as countermeasure, a flare shot sideways to divert attention from the fault line yawning beneath his feet. it is simply remarkable GROTESQUE, EVEN how these offhanded syllables are weaponized, how irony is load-bearing. hopper's mouth twists into something that could resemble a smile if viewed from a sufficient distance. he does not meet joyce's eyes, vision is selective, omission an art form. [ this is how to mask. ] the floor remains obediently solid and the walls unmoving. “ i'm fine. drop it. ” a command, closure in punctuations alone. fine a soft and deceptively mild adjective functions here as a SACRAMENT, a consecrated lie repeated so often it has achieved a certain doctrine. fine is the sound of a door locking from the inside. fine is a preemptive strike.

hopper has long since learned that to speak of a thing, it gives it mass. however, the thing about joyce is that she's lived inside aftermaths long enough to recognize this prelude of his.

[clefts-a]

unsorted dialogue from various sources. ㅤ ...ㅤ adjust wording and pronouns as needed.

please help me.

i never said i would help you.

you think i got a chance?

aim straight.

no point in discussing names. we'll all be dead soon anyway.

hold your fire.

oh, i'm sorry, did i hit a fucking nerve?

everything was fine until you showed up.

not exactly the subtle type, are you?

there is blood everywhere.

how long do you think it's been there?

i'd say we got a week tops.

it wasn't technically a lie.

i'll go help them. you stay put.

t'is just a scratch.

you're bleeding buckets.

when's the last time you slept?

when's the last time you ate?

i'm right behind you.

let me see it, no use in hiding it.

i can't see!

i can't see you, where are you?

you got eyes on the target?

i'm catching up to the target.

i'm a nobody.

thanks for saving me.

get up, you're still in one piece.

you're not fooling me.

hand it over.

i won't ask again.

don't look at me like that.

drop it.

i have to try.

move out of my way.

i can't let you.

make them bleed for me.

i'll kill them.

kill them all.

it is my medical opinion that that could have gone better.

does this mean we're friends now?

nice catch.

good eye.

i have my moments.

let go.

i can't give up. not yet, not ever.

you need to rest.

take a break.

don't leave.

come with me.

you're a handful.

don't do anything stupid.

don't do anything i wouldn't do.

do as i say, not as i do.

i'm fine, relax.

don't baby me.

if you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.

i've dealt with worse.

i know it hurts. you'll be okay.

did you see that?

you're not alone.

i like to keep people on their toes.

i won't leave you alone.

what happened to you?

what the fuck happened?

you look like shit.

you clean up nice.

you look ... alright.

you look ... beautiful/handsome.

i have no idea how uncomfortable i am right now.

what did you do?

looks like i can't leave you alone for one minute before you start doing stupid shit.

what can i say?

you owe me for this.

i owe you, big time.

so we're even?

it runs in the family, doesn't it?

they drive me nuts, but they're family.

you wouldn't get it.

don't pretend like you understand.

i think you're the only one who gets it.

take it easy.

breathe.

i may have fucked up.

did you hear that?

can we go now?

i don't like this.

run!

this is no joking matter.

do you ever take anything seriously?

i'm not leaving without you.

i'm going to get you out of here.

leave without me. i'll just slow you down.

i'll catch up. go!

i thought you were dead.

peekaboo.

i know you're there, [name].

it takes a lot more than that to kill me.

we both know we can't do this without each other's help. so grow up and help me.

i hate you.

i love you.

i know you love me.

you love me, don't lie.

care to join me?

we are never speaking of this.

don't tell anyone about this.

why did you leave me?

the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

shut the fuck up.

i'm fucking livid.

your wish is my ... strong recommendation.

i'm calling it right here. this world can officially bite my ass.

take a picture, it'll last longer.

it's nothing.

leave me alone.

you're like family.

don't talk to me.

i know you missed me. i missed you too, you know.

i'm tired of pretending.

stop pretending you care.

we're safe, i think.

i only wanted to help.

you don't scare me.

try me.

what are they here for?

why are they after you?

whose blood is that?

do you love me?

you're not a bad person.

what are you hiding?

you're safe with me.

did you have fun?

feels weird seeing you again.

just like old times.

someone was here before us.

you're not as bad as everyone says you are.

are you always so serious?

you look like you've see a ghost.

i don't think i want to find out.

don't fucking touch me.

do you mind if i smoke?

over my dead body.

got a light?

forget you saw anything.

i'm too old for this shit.

i'll see myself out.

don't call me that.

i won't say anything.

did you come alone?

i want you to run, okay? run and don't look back.

you're all right. you're safe. it's over.

you're not acting like yourself, are you okay?

what's in it for me?

ladies/guys/people love me.

get behind me.

follow me if you want to live.

oh, fuck you.

i'll take care of you.

maybe you should stick around for a while.

i don't believe you don't care.

let me carry you.

look at me.

i'm this close to losing my shit.

i can tell when you're lying to me.

you're staring.

this is for your own good.

i don't need your pity.

can you walk?

i can explain.

they deserved it.

am i dead?

takes one to know one.

i don't owe you shit.

kill me if you're not a coward.

this better not be in vain.

are we getting paid for this?

you are one lucky son of a bitch.

please go. i can't look at you right now.

it takes two to tango.

do it, pussy. you won't.

let them go.

let me go.

let it go.

where are you taking them?

there you are.

it's me, you're okay, i'm here.

don't look.

do you care about anyone but yourself?

you got a weapon?

allow me to show you how it's done.

i can't believe i actually killed them.

i can't believe you actually killed them.

i don't like this anymore than you do.

you can trust me.

i know you're just dying to say something to me.

i can protect you.

you've been awfully quiet.

don't.

don't say another word, you hear me?

ha! i knew i could make you smile.

ha! i knew i could make you laugh.

you're going to hell, you know that, right?

we're going to hell, aren't we?

i got you.

you mumble in your sleep.

don't miss.

get a fucking grip.

pretty sure that's illegal.

i didn't ask for this.

no one's coming to help us.

we're fucked.

i think god hates me.

i think god hates us.

it's never been easy.

i was worried about you.

i'll drink to that.

you're joking, right?

i'll do the talking.

lady luck smiles on me today.

didn't take you as a softie.

don't go soft on me, now.

the quiet type, eh?

don't remind me.

i'm just messing with you.

that's an order.

come on, don't be shy.

i know someone that could help us out.

don't go too far.

don't lie to me.

i'd prefer to get out of this in one piece.

well, that was a waste.

let me do it.

they've got us surrounded.

stop lying to me.

time changes you.

come on, lie down.

i wish i was like you.

look at you.

are you proud of yourself?

we're almost there.

you should look away now.

i'm glad i checked up on you.

don't get mad.

watch your language.

because i love you.

keep that shit to yourself.

keep it up.

where do you think you're going?

it's ok to cry.

that's my boy/girl.

stay safe.

i need to tell you something.

can't sleep?

you can take the bed. or the couch, if you want.

listen to me.

i dare you.

snap out of it.

promise me.

i'm not scared of death.

you know i'd do anything for you, right?

this isn't your fault.

[thebrainy]

@chiefhop said, “ that's very noble of you, cautionary tales of hubris notwithstanding. ”

‘  i'm just trying to help. ’ you toss your hands up, but the white flag catches between your fingers just before you're about to throw it down when a rare second wind of acid builds up in your voice. you turn back, ‘ and you know what, jim? there's no extra credit points in life for making things harder for yourself, taking things on alone when you don't have to. okay? i can help.   ’

[chiefhop]

“ yeah, well. ” it's spat back with that same mild acid bob offered, though hopper pretends he does not notice the symmetry. his shoulders lift and drop in that loose and flapping shrug. “ you know what, bob things get messy the more hands in it. ” more hands, more variables, more chances. he has lived the math of that equation and buried those results. the world does not reward collaboration the way people who think like bob may insist that it should.

bob newby, of all people. bob with his earnest mouth and careful gentility he has orbited jim's life since school hallways and half-remembered locker rooms. maybe they are not friends and maybe they never have been. but they are not not something either, some long-standing familiarity. hopper does not allow himself to imagine bob at the end of the blades. perhaps, he knows that that's just where he might end up. “ back off, will ya? you tryna get yourself killed? ”

[4tr0phy]

A MAN AFTER HER OWN HEART, there to reinforce threads of normalcy that she grasped at so desperately. jim was an unlikely friend, the person karen's sorta needed her whole life. he was honest, brutally, at times, but there was a softer side to him too. it was comforting to be seen, but not laid bare.

she thinks it's wholly A MATTER OF LUCK that their stories would have entwined in this way, and maybe at another time she could be angry about the logistics of how exactly it all happened— right now, karen didn't particularly care, though. her children were alive, and the sheriff, in so many ways and instances, was perhaps to thank for that.

' well, you got any a' that popcorn to share ? they feed me rabbit food in here. ' she gives him a playful grimace, and her complaint lacks any real passion behind it. really, it's just something she thinks ted would say, if he were around anymore to say it.

a sigh releases in the place of a laugh, features briefly quite miserable looking before she regains awareness of herself. a smile is presented, and thanks is nodded for the flowers. a shoulder rotates back and arm extends to pull away the other side of her curtain. like a ringleader revealing his next marvel, she boasts a stunningly large selection of flowers. briefly, mind wanders to the only florist in town . . . must have been a great month for business. head motions for him to deposit them with the others.

" . . . HOW'RE YOU HOLDIN' UP? "

she lets her head fall into the shrug of shoulders. she hated people seeing her like this. it felt bare and unsafe. then, she thinks, maybe someone like jim had seen through her their whole lives, anyway. still, she thinks her fall from grace was penance for the path she'd paved up to it: AN EARNED SUFFERING. so, she wouldn't complain. ' i've been better, but doc says i'll be home soon. '

HOME . . . whatever that looked like now. ' how're the kids ? they don't really . . . tell me anything. you know, teenagers. ' it wasn't just that, but she'd still pretend.

— for @chiefhop! ( cont. )

[chiefhop]

“ that's good. ” he nods. comical how two modest syllables shoulder the burden of absolution. they fall with deliberate neutrality, thud into the sterile air and stay there unadorned. hopper's fingertips remain occupied thumb worrying the ruptured seam of the chair cushion, forefinger tracing the fault like over and over again. cotton guts peek through vinyl skin. it keeps his eyes obediently lowered because staring is impolite and staring is all he wants to do. ( she survived this, he thinks. alive, a blunt mantra. )

the kids? what's left of them, truly. “ they're, uh hangin' in. ” you should recognize the phrase for what it is: relic, moth-eaten, familiar. the kids are in a constant state of suspension, refusal to fall or succumb, limbo between devastation and recovery. they are endurance. and the kids, peculiarly, seem far superior at such challenges than the adults preternaturally calibrated, sharpened by their circumstances into something so frighteningly lucid.

“ they've changed. quieter. ” holly's former effervescence has fallen into quiet vigilance with eyes too old for her face, mike's folded inward like a door closed sternly, nancy stands a structural beam for them all, load-bearing. the rest are circling loss too massive for their proportion. maybe better shall come with time, of course. that's the stock parent answer. hopper has never trusted time to be particularly kind, though. but he is confident it shall always be relentless. his thumb hooks deeper into the seam, “ but sharp as ever. ” it's truthful. children that have been honed rather than sheltered. they are survivors, as well. “ and together. ” together, as covenant and knotted rope. hopper should probably say more, should attempt something aspirational or reassuring. however, he lets it speak for itself. this small sanctuary of shared bruises and for now, that is sufficient.

“ tell you what: soon as they let you loose, i'll take you somewhere to eat. not rabbit-food adjacent. ”

[mcxine-archive]

he's breaking his protocol. emotion over logic, or perhaps it's experience. not with finding youths, or those that look like them, but with handling them. it leeks out of the man like a bad crack in a submarine already too far gone. his assessment is.. clever. hypervigilant. although maxine has fitted his search to be less about locating a possible weapon on her than it is a bruise or scuff that could bleed with the rain. stubby, cold fingers swat at her cheek, pushing away a red section of hair gone astray, stamping pale make with an auburn split from the storm. " ..no! " red eclipse revealed, blinking. warning. his training returns, tempered. warning.

it remembers. she, remembers. a reckless man's loss of his reckless son will only turn the household.. reckless. unstable in its location, unstable at the heart, maxine, YK500, was supposed to stitch the holes up and mend the scraps of this family back together. but neil, he didn't want a daughter. and if maxine's assessment proved to be true, he never really wanted his son either. but one was gone, one was bought. both, in their own way, deviated far from their role in his life and maxine is aware of what corporal punishment awaits for the phenomenon of getting caught. that's all that ever lived inside cherry lane. waterlogged hands raise, palms reflective of the bouncing beam of light sabering out of the torch in the chief's hand. " mom is missing- " mom. registered: susan hargrove, née mayfield. last seen six weeks ago, with neil hargrove inside neil hargrove's personal vehicle, PDW932. circumstances? reckless.

there is no manual for police apprehension. her kind should not know a thing about this, let alone the child models. hands curl into fists, pulsing like the mimic of a beating heart, as elbows begin to bend. maxine only draws her hands closer to her face, both to shield from the light source and anticipate impact. also not a designated protocol for her model. freckled design scrunches like that of a newborn, wherein at any given moment, the replication is uncanny until the model tilts her head away. red. blinking. warning. corrupted. it shows itself like a fatal wound kissing the eyes of the opponent. she knows this is it.

" mom is missing, please! " maxine tries again, voice breaking the limitations built into her box. this model will laugh, and giggle, and sing, and rhyme, and it will not cry. it will not yell. it will not disobey. though maxine can feel an odd sensation burning behind her faceplate. like creeping rust not borne from the rain, but something else. an internal puncture. an error in her build. it brings her curled fists to notch at her eyes, alleviating the source of discomfort. this model doesn't cry? it does now. " help.. mom is- "

[chiefhop]

prolonged and cathedral-length pause here. rain splits through the dark, each drop a tiny insistence on him, that this moment is happening and it is real. it cannot be rewound or neatly filed away, it cannot be reported and closed and deactivated. it is rust and ozone and old leaves and somewhere beneath it all, there is the unmistakable and domestic scent that quiet hum of something pretending to be nothing brewing here. “ c'mon, kid. ” hopper thinks, absurdly, of tone and volume and how carefully one must tread around a cornered thing. he stands there unmoving, monument-still and looking down upon her. upon it. the red circle on her temple jittering and spasming, flickers like a star. the light is supposed to be precise, regulated and obedient. instead, it looks panicked. erratic. a malfunction only seen in living things when fear overrides its instruction. living things, (n.) a blurred line. the rain beads and red fractures into pinks and rusts.

she resembles something childlike, something with scraped knees and borrowed coats and an everlasting future. the engineers got that part right, disturbingly so. even now, soaked through, hair plastered to her forehead, she resembles that of just a small girl who wandered too far from home. that is what disturbs him the most. a young mind caught mid-translation between what she was built to be and what she has already become. a creature paused on the threshold of choice and what a dangerous place to stand. it's familiar, as he is now a man who has carried many endings and cannot remember now which he is meant to choose. the badge on his chest feels obscene, gleaming and official and absolutely in the way. a relic of rules written by a group of assholes who have never stood in the rain staring at a child-shaped paradox.

“ i lower it ” another pause, a sentence hanging half-assembled in the air. “ be smart. ” don't do anything crazy, in this world that has gone feral. the gun dips in increments, surrendering to the ground inch by inch, rain slicking against the metal. it hangs now, limp in both grasps. he almost demands: model designation, registration status, comply. they crowd there at the back of his throat and die away. instead, his eyes catch on the small involuntary movements, the way she braces, the way her fingers curl. so he takes to training, “ mom. tell me about her. ” this quieter heresy. not where is she, what did she do, is she a deviant as well?

[chiefhop]

lowkey about to just dump my inbox bc there’s 50 things in there and i might start yelling

[chiefhop]

@amalgi .. places this multi gently. a lil soft opening.