[mona-henderson]

RAMONA "MONA" HENDERSON "Hawkins is a cemetery with a zip code. Honestly, I’m just here for the scenery. And to make sure my cousin doesn't accidentally walk into a wood chipper."

Age: 21 Pronouns: she/her Hometown: New York City (The "Real" World) Current Residence: The Henderson’s couch (much to Dustin’s annoyance) Occupation: Bassist for hire / Professional eye-roller at The Hideout Aesthetic: Smudged eyeliner, leather jackets, the smell of clove cigarettes, and a bass riff that feels like a heartbeat

Chaotic good with ink-stained fingers and a bass slung low. Bisexual, observant, and allergic to rules that don’t make sense. Mona runs on instinct, music, and loyalty—slow to trust, quick to protect. She notices what others miss, jokes when things get too real, and loves like it might cost her something. Hawkins never felt like home, but some people make it harder to leave.

THE STORY SO FAR Ramona didn't come to Hawkins for the "quaint small-town charm." She came because the city started screaming. Growing up, Mona’s mother was a vault of secrets. A nurse who claimed to work private graveyard shifts, she once made the fatal mistake of bringing a young Mona to her workplace—the Hawkins National Laboratory. Left alone for a few minutes too long, Mona wandered. She saw something she wasn't meant to see—Henry Creel performing an act of such cold, calculated violence that her mind fractured to protect itself. Her mother fled to New York the next day, hoping a different state and a different life would bury the trauma. After her mother’s sudden, unexplained death, Ramona found a box of secrets that didn't belong in a normal home—birth records that didn't add up and old polaroids where a man with pale, icy eyes lingered in the background, watching her grow up from the shadows. She showed up at Aunt Claudia’s door with a kitten in a box and a lie on her lips, claiming she just needed a "change of pace." In reality, she’s hunting. She’s hunting for the truth and to find out why, every night at 3:00 AM, that same man from the photos is standing under the streetlamp outside her window. THE ECHOES Ramona doesn't just see the glitches; she hears them. Her bass acts as a lightning rod for the Threshold. When she plays, the walls of Hawkins feel thin, like paper. She knows something is coming. She experiences auditory bleeds—she can sometimes hear the low-frequency hum of the Threshold through her amplifier or in dead silence. Most disturbingly, Ramona has started seeing a blonde man standing under the streetlamp outside her window at exactly 3:00 am. He doesn't move; he just watches. When she blinks or grabs a flashlight, he’s gone. She hasn't told Dustin yet because she’s afraid he’ll think she’s actually losing it.

[abuickandbloodyknuckles-ste]

"Nah, I only eat shit and die for the extra pretty girls. So you should feel really special." Conrad teased, winking at his savior as he was hefted off the ground with a strength that surprised him- he was NOT a small guy, all excess height and muscles that he was. Conrad stood for a moment, taking a moment to let his body process no longer being on the ground. Sure, he'd taken his fair share of hits to the head in his years playing football -it was kind of a prerequisite, he felt- but the bloody gash was new, and it was making him feel just a touch woozy. The attention didn't help a lot either, and Conrad could feel his face turning slightly pink under Mona's gaze. She was intense. Not in a bad way, just in a way that left the brown eyed man feeling a touch unprepared. Probably didn't do him any favors that she was dating Eddie Munson, accused murderer. Yes, the guy clearly WASN'T a murderer, since he wasn't in prison, but it was still kind of intimidating! He let out a soft hiss, feeling the texture of the bandana press into the cut on his forehead, "Fuck! Warn a guy, maybe?" He asked, but for the roughness in his voice, he didn't move away from the pressure, letting Mona do what she could to help him. He let his eyes close, both to focus on not feeling so dizzy and to keep from staring. He did as she said though, reaching up to hold the handkerchief against his head as she removed her hand from it, though he could still feel the other on his arm. Hearing her ask if he was good, Conrad let his eyes slide back open, "I mean, I'm not 'leaking' so much, so I'm definitely better. I'll see how I feel in a few hours if I manage to hit good." Conrad said, offering her a small, almost shy smile. It was boyish, in a way that never quite fit how big Conrad had gotten (almost a full foot between the start of freshman year and end of junior year) and he still hadn't felt like he'd properly 'grown into' his own height. He wondered it he ever would. "Oh c'mon, that line from before wasn't bad enough to kill me over, was it Mona?" Conrad asked with a soft chuckle, before his eyes grew concerned. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone out this early. Nothin's wrong at Miss Henderson's place, is it?" Conrad asked. He usually wouldn't bother adding the 'Miss', usually calling a house by it's last name (The Wheeler's place, the Sinclair's place, Harrington's mansion, etc) but he liked Miss Henderson. She was pretty damn hard not to like. Sweet lady.

[mona-henderson]

Mona let out a low, raspy chuckle, keeping a steady, firm grip on Conrad’s arm. Even with all that solid muscle, he was currently swaying like a knocked-over lamppost. "Extra pretty girls, huh? Careful, big guy. Keep sweet-talkin’ me and I might start thinkin’ you got a death wish after all." She gave him a quick once-over, her sharp eyes catching the way his face had gone bright pink beneath the fresh blood and boyish charm. It was cute. The kind of cute that made her feel a little too aware of the fact that it was stupid o’clock in the morning and she was out here in her leather jacket and smudged eyeliner like some kind of night creature. "Hold that bandana tight, yeah?" Mona nodded toward her beat-up van parked half on the curb a little ways down the street. She knew for a fact there was a half-decent first-aid kit shoved under the passenger seat. "C’mon, my ride’s right there. I got actual gauze and antiseptic that doesn’t smell like old gym socks. Unless, of course, you wanna keep playing tough guy and risk that pretty face scarin’ the cheerleaders." Her tone was pure tease, but a real edge of concern sharpened underneath it.

The gash on his forehead looked nasty, and the absolute last thing she needed was someone else she actually liked ending up in the Hawkins ER with questions she couldn’t answer. Especially not at 4 AM, when the lone streetlamp down the block felt a little too bright and her skin was crawling for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the boy next to her. With a gentle but unyielding tug, she began steering him toward the passenger side. "And nah, nothin’s wrong at the Henderson’s. Dustin’s probably still snoring like a chainsaw. I just… couldn’t sleep." Her voice dipped on those last few words, losing its bite. She deliberately left out the part about the blonde figure she’d seen standing under the streetlight again tonight. Instead, she shot Conrad a sidelong look, raising a dark eyebrow. "You, on the other hand, look like you went three rounds with a tree. What the hell were you doing out here, Romeo? Practicing football tackles on telephone poles?" She kept her tone light, teasing, but her grip on his arm didn’t loosen, just in case he got dizzy again. Because that’s what she did. She joked when shit got heavy. And right now, something in the air felt way too heavy.

[abuickandbloodyknuckles-ste]

You'll never leave. You'll grow old here and wither. You'll die before you reach 30. You'll live to be just like him. You'll be alone. You'll never be alone. You're doomed if you do nothing. Conrad groaned, pulling a pillow over his head to try and block out the whispers. He knew better- they weren't able to be blocked out so easily. Less like flies buzzing next to his head and more like bees buzzing inside his skull. Wings brushing his cortexes and making it spark in a way that was so utterly wrong it made him shudder with each word said. Or well, it used to. After months of dealing with it, it had grown more annoying than anything. Something just consistent enough that Conrad never took a good night's sleep for granted, and never went to bed with the assumption he'd get said good night's rest. And tonight, it was very clear he wouldn't be getting any rest at all. Throwing his pillow aside, Conrad raked his fingers through his hair, damp with sweat. Ugh, gross. He looked towards his shower, then at the darkness outside his window. The clock on his bedside table said it was a little after 4 AM. Seemed his night was just about shot. Getting up from his bed, Conrad pulled on his red zip up hoodie and a pair of jeans with the knees torn out. Sliding on his well-loved adidas and snatching Doorene's keys and his wallet from the drawer of his bedside table, Conrad opened his bedroom window and slipped out silently into the early morning. There was something embarrassing about still needing to sneak out at 19, even after he graduated. Like he was scared his dad would hear him and do something about him leaving. Wouldn't he though? The air was crisp and cold for now, and it sent clean-feeling shivers down Conrad's back as he walked. He glanced over at Doorene, thinking about getting in before deciding against it. He'd run instead. That'd be a better way to get the energy out. Which led him to now, running running hard and fast down the roads of Hawkins like a bat out of hell. Or maybe like a quarterback chasing a last minute goal, either one worked well enough. He would try and get to the park, maybe have time to sit at a picnic table and get a good view of the sunrise before it started crawling with other people. Conrad prided himself on being a social guy but he just couldn't deal with it. Not today. Not after what those fucking voices said to hi- His musings were cut short as his foot caught a hole in the road, sending him flying forward. Instinctively, he moved to protect his face from the fall...but something was holding him back. What the fu-? Conrad had no real time to ponder what had caused him to lock up, as the blackness of the road met his face read on. Stars exploded behind his eyes, the pain muting him as his forehead collided with the rough pavement, breaking the skin and quickly drawing blood from the tall man's head. For a moment, Conrad remained in place on the ground, dazed and not wanting to acknowledge the pain that seemed to spark with every movement he made after. But, with a groan of defeat, he pushed himself up with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight before opening them to see the ground. Drip...Drip... His blood fell onto the black tar, the color lost in the low light and looking just as dark as the road beneath it. "Today is gonna be a fan-fucking-tastic one." he groaned, before seeming to realize someone else was there. Looking up at the new arrival, dark brown eyes shifted in real time from agitation to a dry amusement, as he held his hand out. "Wanna help me up? C'mon, I think it's fair, since you got to see me eat it on the ground. And for free, too!"

It was hard to be charming when your head was split open and blood was slowly making it's way to your mouth. But hopefully he'd get some slack.

open starter for @sterpstarters

[mona-henderson]

Mona had snuck out the back window of Dustin’s place again, escaping the lumpy couch that smelled like stale Cheetos and younger cousin chaos. Leather jacket draped loose over her shoulders, she leaned against the old oak on the corner, taking a slow drag out of her cigarette. The night was too quiet. Unnaturally so. Like the town itself was waiting for something ugly to happen. Then came the frantic footsteps. Some tall guy running down the road like the devil was on his heels. Mona stayed half-hidden in the shadows, watching with a raised eyebrow. Not her problem… until he ate shit spectacularly, foot catching a pothole and sending him crashing face-first into the asphalt. The wet smack made her wince. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him: blood was already dripping dark onto the road. After a moment, she flicked the cigarette aside, boots crunching gravel as she stepped into the faint streetlight.

"Jesus Christ, you always greet girls with a free concussion and a blood fountain, or am I just lucky?" She crouched, gripping his outstretched hand with surprising strength honed from years of hauling amps and dragging around too many secrets. Pulling him upright, she got a better look at the nasty gash splitting his forehead. Without asking, she fished a crumpled black bandana from her jacket pocket and pressed it firmly against the wound. "Easy, quarterback," she said, lips lifting into a half-smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You’re leaking all over the place. Hold that there before you pass out." Mona kept her hand on his arm a moment longer, steadying him. She tilted her head, studying the tall, bleeding guy with dry amusement and a flicker of wary curiosity. "You good, or should I start practicing my 'I found him like this, officer' speech?"

[constanceelisee]

Connie laughed. "Obviously, trying to numb living in this shithole," Connie covered her face.

"I mean, I had it coming, not going to Harvard," Connie sighed. "Yeah, I got accepted to 3 Ivy Leagues," She held out the joint to Mona. "Wanna trade? No fun getting high by myself,"

[mona-henderson]

Mona took the joint, swapping it for her half-finished Camel. She took a deep hit, held it until her lungs burned just a little, and exhaled a long stream of smoke toward the sky. "Three Ivies?" She repeated, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Jesus, Connie. Most people around here think higher education is just a taller ladder at the hardware store. You’re overqualified for this entire zip code." Feeling the first fuzzy edges of the high beginning to blur the sharp lines of the parking, Mona looked at the joint, then back at the girl who was currently too smart for her own good. "Harvard would’ve been wasted on you anyway. Too many sweaters. Too much talk about legacy. You’d have been bored out of your mind within a semester. Here, at least, the misery is authentic." She passed the joint back, her movements a little more fluid, a little more relaxed.

[mona-henderson]

[constanceelisee]

Connie sat in the empty lot, smoking. She could've gone anywhere else, but Hawkin's was small. And she wasn't smoking any old cigarette. She was smoking a joint, and she was pretty sure that was illegal in the state of Indiana. And even if Hopper knew her well enough, he'd still arrest her. Which sucked. Just then, Connie caught sight of someone staring at her. She sighed. "Please don't tell the police,"

//open starter// @sterpstarters

[mona-henderson]

"Relax, Connie. I’m not a narc," Mona rasped, her voice cutting through the quiet. "Though, I have to say, smoking a joint out here? That’s bold," she teased, a smirk tugging at her mouth. "You’re lucky it was me and not, say, Mrs. Wheeler. She’d have you in a prayer circle and a mandatory knitting class." Mona reached into her pocket, pulled out her own pack of Camels, and tapped one out. She lit it, the orange glow reflecting in her dark eyes as she took a slow drag. "What’s the occasion anyway? Did Stan finally manage to explain the entire history of the Shire to you, or are you just trying to numb the sensation of living in Hawkins?"

[caroroseste]

"What did that tree do to you?" Carolina asked, having heard her last statement, which could have only been directed at the bright cherry blossom tree. She was fond of the soft pink petals, but she didn't expect everyone to be a fan. However, she also didn't expect someone to sound like they had a personal grudge against this part of nature. "Did a cat get lost in it?"

[mona-henderson]

"Worse," Mona rasped. "It’s got no chill, it’s trying too hard." She shifted her weight, leaning her shoulder back against the library brick, and gestured vaguely at the riot of pink with two fingers. "No cat. Just a fundamental philosophical disagreement. It’s a distraction," she said, a small, cynical smirk playing on her lips. "You look at the pretty petals and you forget that in three weeks, they’ll all be brown mush on the sidewalk and we’ll still be stuck in Hawkins." She tilted her head, catching a glimpse of Carolina's expression, and her gaze softened just a fraction. "But hey, if you like it, don't let me ruin the magic. I’m just the local gargoyle keeping the optimism levels in check. Someone’s gotta remind the greenery that it’s living in a horror movie setting, right?"

[eddiemunson-ste]

Eddie forgot how to exist the second the door opened. He’d been pacing like a lunatic for ten minutes, rehearsing jokes, trying to decide if he should redo his hair, then undoing it, then redoing it again. But none of that prepared him for Mona leaning in the doorway like she’d been carved out of trouble and eyeliner. When she said wow, his brain just… stopped. Full system shutdown. Blue screen of death. “M’not... I mean... you...” He cleared his throat, trying to salvage the sentence. “Hi.” Real smooth. Then her fingers were on his collar, cool rings brushing his jaw, and Eddie swore he felt every nerve in his body light up like someone plugged him into an amp. He didn’t even breathe when she rose onto her toes, palm warm over his heart, and kissed him. Soft, lingering, right at the corner of his mouth. He made a sound. A tiny, helpless one. He prayed she didn’t hear it.

When she pulled back, smiling like that, Eddie’s knees nearly gave out. “You can’t just...” he started, voice cracking, “..do that and expect me to function like a normal human being.” But she was grinning wickedly, talking about Dustin and binoculars, and Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my god, he would,” he muttered. “Little gremlin’s probably got a whole surveillance setup. Tripod. Notebook. Walkie‑talkie. The works.” He stepped closer without even realizing he was doing it, his hand hovering near her waist like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch her yet. “Yeah,” he said, softer now, steadier. “I’m ready.” His eyes flicked to her mouth, then back up. “And for the record?” His voice dropped, warm and a little wrecked.“ You look… unreal.” He offered his hand, palm open, a little shaky. “Let’s get outta here before Henderson starts drafting a report.”

[mona-henderson]

Mona’s smirk deepened the second she heard that tiny helpless sound he made when she kissed him. God, he was cute when he short-circuited. When Eddie stepped closer and told her she looked unreal, voice all low and wrecked like that, something warm twisted low in her stomach. Slowly, she let her fingers slide into his offered hand, lacing them together without hesitation. She gave his palm a little squeeze, thumb brushing over his knuckles as she tugged him gently toward the van. Eddie's hand was warm, and that slight shake in his grip made her heart do a slow roll in her chest. "I can and I will, Munson. Consider it a hazard of the trade," she said, her voice dropping into that velvety rasp as she stepped off the porch and onto the driveway. Of course she caught the way his hand hovered near her waist and, with a subtle shift, she leaned into him just enough to close the gap as they walked toward the van. "And trust me, unreal is exactly what I was going for. I figured if I’m going to be seen with you in public, I should at least look like I can handle whatever chaos you drag me into."

The van waited at the curb, same beat-up beauty she’d seen him tear around town in a hundred times. Mona paused by the passenger door, glancing back toward the dark upstairs window of the Henderson house. She could’ve sworn the blinds twitched. "Oh, he’s definitely drafting a report," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "He probably already has a Mona and Eddie: Probability of Survival chart taped to the back of his door." The second Eddie settled behind the wheel, she turned toward him instead of buckling in. Her eyes moved over him slowly, appreciative, and then a smile touched her lips. "You look so handsome," she murmured. Her hand rose to smooth a stray curl that had slipped loose from his ponytail, fingertips grazing his temple before drifting to the side of his neck. She let them rest there a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin, the quick pulse fluttering beneath it. Then she leaned in closer still, pausing just beside his jaw, breathing him in. When she pulled back to meet his eyes, her gaze was darker, amused. "That little sound you made when I kissed you?" she said softly. "Yeah… I heard it."

[kiingsteve]

"I have to, or else I won't hear the end of it from Dustin. Work is mostly fine. I just have to work on my attendance since apparently my main appeal as an employee is attracting women to the video store—and yes, I do hear how douchey that sounds, but I wasn't the one who said it first."

[mona-henderson]

"Consider the Dustin and Stan transport situation settled. I’ll make sure they don't tear each other’s heads off over D&D mechanics. But you’re officially in my debt. Oh, and I’m well aware of your main appeal, Steve. It’s a very specific brand of retail worker meets hair model charm. Trust me, Keith has mentioned the sales spike every time you decide to lean against the counter and look thoughtful near the rom-com section."

[eddiemunson-ste]

date night || mona & eddie

Eddie had been pacing outside the Henderson house for a full thirty seconds before he realized he was doing it. Hands shoved in his pockets, hair tied back the way she once said she liked, denim jacket he’d definitely changed twice before settling on this one. It wasn’t even a fancy date. Just… a date. With her. Which somehow made it worse. He exhaled hard, trying to shake the nerves out of his shoulders. “Get it together, Munson,” he muttered. “It’s Mona, not a dragon.” He knocked. Lightly at first. Then again, because the first one sounded pathetic. He heard movement inside, her footsteps, quick and familiar, and his heart did that stupid jump it always did around her. He straightened, tried to look casual, failed miserably.

@mona-henderson

[mona-henderson]

Mona had been ready for twenty whole minutes, a personal record, but she still let the silence stretch a second just to watch him. Door swinging open, she leaned against the frame, leather jacket already slung over one shoulder, smudged eyeliner and all. Her eyes dragged slow over Eddie—wild curls pulled back the exact way she’d mentioned liking weeks ago, denim jacket, that nervous energy he was failing to hide. Something soft and warm punched right through her ribs. "Wow," she said, low, almost to herself. She stepped in close, silver rings cool against his jaw as she fixed his collar with gentle fingers. "You clean up real nice, Munson." Before he could deflect with some self-deprecating reply, she rose onto her tiptoes, palm flat over his heart, and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. "Hi," she whispered against his skin, the smile finally cracking wide and real across her face as she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. Then the grin turned wicked. "Ready to get out of here? Pretty sure Dustin’s got his face smashed against the upstairs window with binoculars, and I’d rather not give him any more ammo."

[benditlikedeborah]

Debbie laughed at Mona's comment about the former King of Hawkin's high, who, while changed enormously from their high school days, seemed to have kept his extravagant hair habits. "Well. Connie has been in an unrequited relationship with him for a few months now. I guess love is blinding her, though I think her brother uses similar products," Her cheeks flushed. "Oh, really? I can come in late. Not many people enjoy reading, and I'm not opening today. But as long as it doesn't bother you, of course," she said nervously, twirling her hair.

[mona-henderson]

"Love is a powerful hallucinogen, especially when combined with hairspray fumes," Mona said, letting out an amused huff. "But hey, if she can look at Harrington and see a soulmate instead of a sentient pile of hair gel, more power to her." As Debbie’s cheeks flushed pink, Mona felt a sudden surge of genuine warmth for the girl. She reached out and gently caught the strand of hair Debbie had been frantically twirling between her fingers. Holding the lock for a second, her eyes softened. "Pretty," she murmured, a sincere smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

She let the strand fall back into place and gave Debbie a light, encouraging nudge with her shoulder, steering her toward the cafe’s entrance. "And don't worry about the bookstore," Mona added. "If anyone complains about it being closed, tell them you were busy preventing a sidewalk casualty. It adds mystery to the brand." She pulled the door open, the bell giving a friendly clink, and ushered Debbie into the scent of toasted bread and roasted beans. "My treat, remember? Think of it as an investment in your sanity. God knows this town doesn't provide enough of that for free."

[mona-henderson]

Mona leaned against the brick siding of the Hawkins Public Library, her thumb flicking the wheel of her Zippo. She took a long drag of her cigarette, the smoke curling around her head before being whisked away by a sweet spring breeze. She was locked in a silent, high-stakes staring contest with a cherry blossom tree. It was in full, obnoxious bloom. A riot of aggressive, sugary pink that felt like a personal insult to her current wardrobe and general disposition. To anyone else, it was a sign of rebirth and the "magic of the season." To Mona, it looked like the tree had tried to eat an entire bottle of Pepto-Bismol and then lost the battle in the middle of the sidewalk. "Look at you," she muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the lowest branch. "Aggressively cheerful. It’s disgusting."

There was something about the sheer effort of the tree that bothered her. It was trying so hard to be beautiful in a town that, at its core, was mostly damp soil and secrets. It felt like a trap, a pink, floral distraction meant to make you forget that the ground beneath it was probably still sour from whatever the hell had happened at the Lab. A petal drifted down, caught in the draft of her cigarette, and landed squarely on the toe of her scuffed black boot. Mona stared at the tiny intruder with a look of profound betrayal. She didn't brush it off. "Don't get smug," she whispered to the trunk, flicking her ash onto the pavement. "One good thunderstorm and you’re just pink mulch."

[rangerlucassinclairx]

“Stop it!” Lucas laughed, swatting playfully at Mona because she was seriously making him very embarassed. He had no idea how to deal with the way she kept showering him with compliments. He was obviously both super flustered and kind of flattered at the same time. “That’s not romantic…” he insisted again anyway, pressing the back of his hand to one of his burning cheeks. “It’s just the truth. But honestly it’s not even about, like, romantic stuff for me… I don’t think that’s really the important part! It’s just about her. As a person!” And Lucas really hoped Max had gotten that by now. He just wanted her back, no matter what form that took. He also knew Mona was right and that all he could do now was wait and see where things would go with him and Max. Hearing Mona say it all so clearly again was reassuring. Lucas was already so relieved that Max had woken up and that she was doing at least somewhat okay. But after talking to Mona he somehow felt even more relieved, if that was even possible.

“Of course I told Max about you,” he said then, beaming at Mona. “You’ve become a really important person to me, and I tell Max everything that matters to me…” He scratched the back of his neck again, shoulders lifting in a shy little shrug and a crooked smile. “Max loves pancakes,” he went on. “She’s gonna love this, and she’s gonna love you. I can totally picture you two getting along so well!” Just imagining that gave Lucas this really warm feeling in his stomach and put a huge smile on his face. Enthusiastically, he took another big bite of the pancake in front of him and then laughed with his mouth still half full. “Hello?” he said, sounding mock-offended. “Obviously I’m a knight in shining armor! Of course I’m gonna rescue her and not trigger any traps. I’m just gonna march right through that game. I literally co-designed it, I’d better rule at it!”

“But I’m not saying any of this to butter you up!” Lucas promised, still grinning, but there was something really warm and sincere in his eyes. “I seriously admire you. Like, in my opinion you really don’t have any reason to be so insecure or hide behind anything. You’re honestly amazing and totally one of a kind and I hope you know that. And if you don’t always remember it, then I’m very happy to be the one reminding you.” He gave her a long, serious look before smiling again, full of affection and genuine admiration. To Lucas, it was honestly kind of baffling that someone as awesome as Mona apparently had so many insecurities. “I swear, if Eddie ever treats you badly, I will personally punch him,” he added protectively. Even though Lucas obviously had zero desire to actually fight Eddie. And the image of the two of them throwing punches at each other almost made him laugh out loud, because it felt so ridiculously unlikely. “But that’s about as likely as me paying you a million dollars,” he went on. “I’m pretty sure you probably make him just as nervous as he makes you. Eddie’s a good guy. I don’t think he’d mess with you like that. Honestly, he’s probably the one who can’t believe his luck that someone like you is interested in him.” At least that was how Lucas saw Eddie. The longer he talked with Mona about him, though, the more Lucas kind of wanted to have a conversation with Eddie about Mona too…

“You’re underestimating me, Miss Henderson,” he declared then, lifting his chin proudly. He deliberately wolfed down pancake number two extra fast and immediately started stacking up the next one. “Eleven pancakes is easy mode for me!” he bragged. And as he kept eating and talking with Mona, Lucas felt genuinely happy and safe. Mona had really become someone special to him. It didn’t happen very often that he felt this connected to someone and this seen, appreciated, encouraged. So he couldn’t help looking at her fondly while he kept eating his pancakes. The amount of chocolate she put onto her own pancakes only made him like her even more. “There is no too much chocolate, Mona!” he said with a giggle. “That’s not something I would ever judge. The only thing I’d judge is if you put too little on!”

Lucas had just started his third pancake, and the mood was nice and wholesome. For a moment they both ate quietly, enjoying their food, until Lucas suddenly noticed Mona’s expression change. Her eyes widened for a second, and then she looked so scared that it made Lucas’ blood run cold. He spun around immediately, searching for whatever had frightened her. The lamp caught his eye right away and of course he saw the way it was flickering unnaturally. A cold shiver ran down Lucas’ spine at the sight. In Hawkins, lights flickering like that only ever meant the worst. Instantly his mind went into full alert mode and his whole body tensed, ready to react. “Does that happen a lot here in your house?” he asked sharply, dropping his fork and his eyes locked onto the flickering light. “Yeah, I see it too…” he muttered. “And no, that’s definitely not normal… do you see stuff like that often?” His gaze shifted back to Mona, and he had to swallow hard. He’d accidentally told her a little too much about the supernatural things going on in Hawkins before, and then tried to play it down afterward. But sometimes he had the feeling Mona knew and understood a lot more than she ever let on.

[mona-henderson]

Mona burst out laughing, dodging his swat with an exaggerated lean back. "Knight in shining armor? Bold claim, Sinclair." She winked. "But fine, I’ll lay off the romantic talk. For now.” She saw the way he pressed his hand to his burning cheek, flustered and proud all at once, and something warm settled in her chest. God, he’s a good kid. The kind who’d walk through hell for the people he loved and then blush about it after. It made her want to protect him with everything she had. "About her as a person," she agreed, nodding seriously. "That’s the best kind. And trust me, she knows. Girls know." She tapped his nose twice with her finger. "You’re doing it right. Just keep showing up. The rest sorts itself." His beaming pride when he talked about telling Max about her? That hit different. Mona felt her throat tighten just a little with affection and silent gratitude. It was that rare feeling of belonging she hadn’t expected to find in a nowhere town like this. "You’re gonna make me blush," she teased, but her smile was genuine. "Important person? Me? Careful, or I’ll start thinking you actually like having me around."

She leaned her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling. "Pancakes are the universal language of friendship anyway. If she loves those, we’re golden. I can already picture it: us three terrorizing the kitchen, you playing referee while we argue about syrup versus chocolate spread." His enthusiasm was infectious, as always, and Mona grinned wider. "Uh‑huh. Co‑designer doesn’t mean invincible. One wrong move and boom, trap city." She made fake explosion noises, complete with hand gestures. "But hey, if you do rescue the princess on the first try? I’ll personally crown you Knight Lucas with a syrup scepter." She bumped his shoulder affectionately. "Eleven pancakes, a victory lap, and Max cheering you on sounds like a perfect day to me."

Despite herself, Mona felt her cheeks heat at his sincere intensity, ducking her head with a soft laugh that didn’t quite hide how much his words affected her. He admired her? The words made something fragile twist in her chest. Something unfamiliar and dangerously hopeful. "Hey, easy with the hype train," she said, but her voice came out softer than she meant, affection bleeding through. "I’ll start believing you one of these days, and then what? My ego won’t fit through the door." With a bright smile, Mona bypassed her typical hesitation toward physical touch and gently took Lucas' hand in hers, her thumb brushing over the back of his knuckles in a gesture of quiet solidarity. "But… thank you. Seriously. It’s nice hearing it. Means more coming from you than you know."

Immediately, Lucas’ protective streak cracked her up too much. Enough that she snorted mid‑sip. "You? Punching Eddie Munson?" She grinned wickedly. "I’d pay to see that. Hell, I’d film it. But yeah… he’s a good guy. Messy, loud, but still such a huge sweetheart underneath all that." Her expression softened, thumb tracing the edge of her plate. "And honestly, I think you’re right. He makes me nervous too. In a way nobody has in… a long time." She paused, gaze drifting to her half‑eaten pancake as the truth bubbled up. "Relationships have always been kinda fucked for me, you know? Messy exits, people bailing when it got real, or me hitting eject before they could. I never really believed the healthy kind was in the cards." A small, meek shrug. "Eddie’s different. And that scares the shit out of me, because… what if I fuck it up? What if it’s too good to be true?" Her eyes flicked back to him, vulnerable for a split second before the usual grin quickly returned. "But I really like him... a stupid amount. So we’ll see."

Lucas’ pancake bravado pulled her right back to the moment, and she laughed outright, pointing her fork at him. "Eleven? Easy mode? Famous last words, knight boy.” She scooped another massive amount of chocolate onto her own plate, smearing it with zero regrets. "And thank you. Finally, someone gets it. Too little chocolate is a crime against breakfast." She bumped his foot under the table, eyes full of warmth. "You know, for a little brother figure, you’re dangerously good at this pep‑talk thing. Don’t let it go to your head."

Mona’s fork hovered mid‑air, her pancake forgotten as the flicker pulsed again, insistent, like a heartbeat reflected through the wires. Her pulse matched it, thudding heavy in her throat. Not now. Not here. She forced her eyes to Lucas, saw the way his whole body went rigid, fork abandoned like a weapon. He was sharp, maybe too sharp. He’d let things slip before, given hints about monsters and shit that didn’t belong in a normal town. She’d played dumb. Mostly. "Yeah," she said, voice calm but low, setting her fork down slowly. "Happens more than it should." Another flicker. The hum in her ears deepened, familiar pressure building behind her eyes. She slid her chair back an inch, eyes flicking between the lamp and the window. The trees outside rustled but there was little to no wind. "Seen it a few times," she admitted, meeting his gaze. No bullshit, no softening it for him. "Not just here. Hideout. Streets at night. Always feels… charged." Her jaw tightened at the thought, free hand curling into a loose fist on the table. He knows something. Probably more than me. "You wanna tell me what you’re really thinking, Sinclair? Because that’s not a loose bulb. And we both know it." The light stuttered once more, this time brighter. Mona didn’t blink but her skin prickled like something had just breathed on the back of her neck.

[kiingsteve]

"Ah no but I will owe you one and Connie said she'll treat you to anything you want. Do it for the kids."

[mona-henderson]

"Oh, so now it’s for the kids and I get bribed? You’re really throwing everything at me. Fine, but if I come back with a migraine and encyclopedic knowledge of… whatever they’re into, I’m cashing that in. You surviving work at least, or are you one bad shift away from actually getting fired this time?"

[kiingsteve]

"Alright, alright, I do need a favor, but not like that. I haven't done that in months! Well... at least a month. Anyways, could you take Dustin and Connie's brother Stan to this convention thing next weekend? I can't get out of work and if I call out again I'm definitely fired."

[mona-henderson]

"Oh, this just keeps getting better. A convention? You’re asking me to voluntarily lock myself in a moving vehicle with Dustin and Stan? That’s not a favor, Steve, that’s a controlled psychological experiment and I’m the test subject. Be honest... have you actually seen them together? It’s nuclear."

[kiingsteve]

☏ ring, ring... connecting to @mona-henderson

"hey, are you doing anything next weekend?"

[mona-henderson]

"Steve… that tone means you want a favor. What kind of trouble are you trying to outsource to me this time? And it better not involve me acting as your getaway driver for a date that’s going south."

[awakenedsorcerer]

Will listened intently while Mona described the man she kept seeing outside of her window. Any random man lurking outside of your house would be creepy, but there was true fear in Mona’s voice as she described him. He hoped that the information would be useful, but honestly he had no idea if he’d be able to come up with any leads to help her. At the very least, hopefully it might make her feel a little better to get it all out talking to another person. The fear probably wouldn’t leave her, but hopefully a burden shared could be a burden halved. Well, maybe halved was a bit generous, but maybe it could be slightly reduced. He nodded, flipping to a new page in his sketchbook and writing down the details as she spoke. He didn’t know if she’d be able to give him enough of a description to ask around and see if it rang a bell for anyone else, but the least he could do was try.

The more she described, though, the more it seemed to bother her. That was understandable to Will. He really hadn’t wanted to talk about anything related to the Upside Down for the longest time. He got good at white knuckling it, pretending everything was fine because there was nothing anyone could say that could change what happened to him. He didn’t want to put all of that on someone else. People already thought he was weak, so he wanted nothing more than to prove that he was strong. “Not off the top of my head, but I’m happy to ask around if that’s something you would want. I already have that town freak thing going for me, so it’s not like I have to worry about what people are thinking if I ask.” He shrugged, cavalier, because it genuinely didn’t bother him at this point. The people who actually mattered didn’t think of him that way. Hawkins has always been a small town filled with a whole lot of small minded people. The rule didn’t apply to everyone, of course, but the norm tended to skew toward people wanting to be perceived as normal. Homogenous. It was only the first part of that word people took issue with.

His head tilted to the side, curious when Mona told him she didn’t know how he did it. Instead of asking, he waited for her to elaborate. When she did, a shy smile bloomed on his face, ducking his head just a little the way he always did when he received an unexpected compliment. A “thanks,” was quickly returned, her own warmth making him feel just a fraction of a bit better about the situation. “And honestly, Mona, you’re not losing it. It’s a shitty, scary, situation, and you must have felt so alone….” Will trailed off, hoping the observation came off as sympathetic rather than pitying. “But you’re not. I’ve seen some pretty weird shit, too, and I’m not the only one. It’s Hawkins. It’s always been Hawkins. Ever since the night I went missing.” The last thing she needed to believe was that this was some deficiency of her own making when that wasn’t the case.

[mona-henderson]

Watching Will write down the details made it feel more real, and strangely, less like a haunting and more like a case. Mona caught the way he ducked his head at her compliment, that shy smile reminding her why she’d felt safe enough to spill her guts to him in the first place. But when he mentioned being the "town freak," her expression hardened into something fiercely protective. "Let them think whatever they want, Will," she said, her voice dropping into a low rasp. "Small-minded people need small boxes to put us in so they don't have to admit the world is bigger and scarier than their backyard. If you're the freak, then I'm the circus, and I’m perfectly fine with that."

Mona went quiet as he spoke about her not being alone, about it always being Hawkins since the night he went missing. The mention of that night—the catalyst for everything—made the air in the room feel heavy, like the atmospheric pressure had just spiked. "I did feel alone," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper as she looked at his sketchbook. "I thought I was bringing the 'New York crazy' back with me. I thought maybe I’d just finally cracked under the pressure of trying to be a person." She let out a short, jagged exhale. "But hearing you say that... It doesn't make the man outside the window go away, but it makes the 'losing my mind' part a lot quieter." She straightened up, pushing her hair back from her face, her eyes searching his with a new, grim intensity.

Hearing Will acknowledge the "Hawkins-ness" of it all was like finding a lighthouse in a fog bank. "Dustin’s mentioned it," she said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial rasp. She leaned back, her fingers tracing the edge of a stray pencil. "He gets this look sometimes. This specific, high-intensity energy where he starts talking about 'anomalies' and 'theories' like he’s trying to build a map of a place that shouldn't exist. He promised to tell me everything once he 'vetted' me, whatever the hell that means. But he’s been tight-lipped. He’s usually such a loudmouth, you know? Seeing him hold back... it’s probably the scariest thing about this town so far." She looked at Will more closely now, feeling a sharp pang in her chest. It wasn't just him. It was Lucas’s quiet intensity, Mike’s temper, and Dustin’s manic need to solve every problem. They all had it. A shared, unspoken collection of nightmares etched into the corners of their eyes. "I’m curious, obviously," she added, giving him a small smile. "I’m a Henderson. Curiosity is basically in the DNA. But I’m not gonna push you, Will. If Dustin’s gatekeeping the truth, I’m guessing there’s a damn good reason for it." She reached out, her hand momentarily hovering over the sketchbook before she pulled it back, not wanting to intrude on his space. "You guys carry a lot, don't you? It’s not just weird shit. It’s a whole second life."