[notnotafangirl]

[the-tv-trove]

Sometimes I think about Joyce and Terry because they’re narrative mirrors of the other. When Joyce looks at Terry, she is seeing what happens to mothers who question and fight the system. But she is also seeing a mother who loved and fought for her baby as fiercely as she’s been fighting for Will.

And I don’t think the show fully acknowledges how much meeting Terry changed the rules for Joyce. Because she is seeing what is at stake, what the lab will do to her if she pushes too hard and fails. But more notably is the fact that “Eleven” is no longer a mysterious weapon or experiment. She is Jane Ives. She has a mother and nursery that’s been waiting over a decade for her to come home.

And I think that completely rewrote the rules for Joyce because as desperately as she wants Will back, she won’t let it be at the cost of someone else’s baby.

[cerebraljopper]

stop it rn

[skysmadness]

family movie night

[selena-soto]

[v3l4r]

Destination Wedding (2018)

Tell me I have bad taste but I love this movie.

I was avoiding this film for so many years because I've read and heard so many people say, that it's really bad.

But last night, this film singlehandedly restored my faith in love, in finding a partner that matches my energy, I would almost go so far and say, it restored my faith in humanity.

Those two very neurotic, sarcastic, blunt characters were everything I needed to see for 1.5 hours.

[mymagnets]

You Never Looked Back (Jopper Fic)

Jopper songfic for Jopper Week 2026 full of my headcanons and a major amount of fluff for the ending. Song is Rose Betts' You Never Looked Back (except for the last bit)

I could be a hero, I could be a rock

I could be the brakes when the car won't stop

I could be the water when the hiccups come

And I could be your socks when your feet get numb

Her home life has never been what anyone would classify as ideal. Her mom left when she was so little that she didn’t even have any real memories. There were some smells and songs she associated with her mom. She could pick her out in pictures. But she didn’t have much else. She knew it was her fault that her mom left though. That part was always clear.

Her dad was rough around the edges, but she deserved most of what he said and did. She was anxious and irritating. She was lazy. At least that’s what she always heard from him. 

So she grew up a little tired. Because it was hard to fall asleep never knowing what time your drunk dad might stagger into the house.

She was always a little hungry. Because any more was greedy and he wasn’t raising a greedy kid. Because too much might make her fat and nobody wanted an ugly girl.

She wore cast-off clothes and hand-me-downs. She wasn’t worth new, pretty things.

And she genuinely believed every bit of that to be true. So when eight-year-old Jim gave her his apple at lunch one day at school she didn’t even know what to do.

“I have a loose tooth,” she began. “Also, my dad says that I don’t need anything else.”

“My mom said you do,” Jim told her. “Plus, if you’re hungry at recess you won’t run as fast and I want you on my team.”

Jim Hopper was the most normal part of her life from the time he shared that apple until the day he left for Vietnam. Always in her corner, always speaking gentle truths that ran counter to everything she’d heard before, seeing and believing the best about her, and being her comfort.

I could be an oak tree, I could be the shore

I could be a campfire keeping you warm

I could be the sunlight peeping through the cracks

But you'll never know 'cause you never looked back

“She’s really strong, Jim,” she says, hand on his shoulder.

“I know. I know it’s good they caught it early and there’s a good chance she comes through this just fine. It’s just,” he puts his head in his hands. “Scary.”

She’s the only one he can admit that to.

“Yeah.” She plops down beside him. “It is. I need her too, ya know?”

“I know.”

He didn’t expect his mom to come home with a cancer diagnosis. He thought she was just worn out. She took care of everyone and everything. Being tired would have made sense. This didn’t.

“I’m calling it now,” Joyce says, scooching somehow closer to him.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to glower at her but he feels awful.

“Six months from now, that’s how long they said her treatment will be, right? We’ll be celebrating that she’s recovered.”

One month later Joyce reminds him that his mom’s doctor said there were options for treatment so if her cancer doesn’t respond they still have recourse.

Three months later Joyce reminds him that his mom is halfway there.

Four months in and she reminds him why they’re not giving up.

Five months pass and he finds Joyce having tea with his mom on the front porch because his mom can’t get out and do anything.

Six months later she says “Told you so,” and gives him his first real kiss (the one under the slide at their elementary school doesn’t count).

And a year after that, Joyce is the one who makes him and his dad plan a whole picnic to celebrate.

She’s there for all of it.

I could be a blanket, I could be a breeze

I could be the sugar in your morning tea

And I could be a penny at the bottom of the well

I could be a pearl in the middle of the shell 

“Lonnie is a piece of shit,” he says, voice raised.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” she retorts.

She doesn’t know why he’s talking about her coming with Lonnie Byers when he’s dating Chrissy. What business is it of his who she goes to the Snow Ball with?

“Where’s Chrissy? Why aren’t you with her?” she asks with a sigh, voice losing some of its venom. She really doesn’t want to fight. To be frank, she doesn’t know why they are.

“She broke up with me.” He doesn’t look at her when he says it but he also doesn’t sound too upset.

“She broke up with you?” She scrunches her nose up.

“That’s what I said.”

So we could have come together.

“We could have come together,” he says, giving voice to her thoughts.

“We were fighting,” she argues.

“‘Bout what?” He looks at her when he asks, half teasing (because teasing Joyce is one of his favorite things.)

“Because you-” she begins, then lets out a huff of air and swallows her frustration. “I don’t really know.” She does know, but she doesn’t care. It doesn’t really matter. They should have come together.

“Dance with me, Joycie?” He holds out a hand to her.

It is going to royally piss Lonnie off. If he comes back in time to see it.

“Yeah,” she grabs his hand without a second thought.

I could be a savior, I could be a king

I could be the air underneath your wings

I could be the light when the night goes black

But you'll never know 'cause you never looked back

The tears are running down her cheeks, making tracks, but she’s not noisy about it. She doesn’t blubber. She’s been trained not to.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Hop says, not making eye contact.

“That you’re going to Vietnam, Jim?” she says at a whisper. “You might never come back.”

“That’s what my mom said.”

“Well, she’s right. You’re just leaving us here?” How can he?

“I’m going to help. It’s my duty,” he replies, parroting back the words his dad has said so many times, choosing to picture his father’s pride instead of his mother’s sorrow.

“This isn’t like when we were kids. This isn’t risky like skipping out on class or taking your dad’s car to Lovers Lake or-” she sputters. 

She’s overly-emotional. She’s pregnant. It’s Lonnie’s, not Hop’s like she always dreamed but never said.

“It’s not your duty. Somebody else can go.” She knows she sounds petulant but he’s been her hero, her lucky penny at the bottom of a well, her light when the night goes black. He can't go.

“Are you gonna tell me goodbye or what?” He stands and looks at her as he asks.

“I can’t say goodbye,” she answers softly, swiping at her cheeks.

The next day, he ships out.

At me, you moved so fast

Threw me down like a broken part

I'm so much more than that

But you'll never know 'cause you never looked back

He can honestly say he hasn’t thought of her in years.

No, that’s not honest. He hasn’t thought of her a lot, but she has come to mind. When he feels the grief begin to smother him, he thinks of her.

But she hasn’t been anything to him for years.

His mom keeps him updated every time she calls.

“Joycie works at Donald’s store. I’m glad she has something but that girl is so smart. I wish there was something better for her!”

“Jimmy, you’d have loved to see it. She brought the boys by the house to trick-or-treat. The older one, he has so many of her mannerisms but the little fella, oh, he has her big brown eyes. Charming boys.”

“Come home, Jimmy. You could get a job at the station here in town. Your friends are still here. Benny Hammond and Joycie would love to have you back.”

He thinks that maybe, maybe, being closer to her means he might not drown. He doesn’t know how that’s supposed to work, only that she’s been his sunlight peeking through the cracks before.

We could be a statue and we could be a star

We could be the lovers in the hotel bar

We could be the feet making brand new tracks

But you’ll never know ‘cause you never looked back

They were so close.

They’d grown back together, talked through the causes of old wounds, healed, moved forward. They had the kids, two boys and a girl. They had a house (mildly monster infested) and a cabin (not without its own flaws).

They’d rescued a child together, fought monsters together, protected their family and their town and here was where it ended. Fighting the Russians.

There’s no other choice. The machine has to be destroyed.

So Jim nods.

Joyce turns the key.

She goes home without him and tries to move on.

Until she can’t.

First the denial is just that. It’s the first stage of grief and she’s slow when coming to terms with loss, especially this one. But then there’s the feeling, the same one she had when she knew Will was out there somewhere. Oh, she’s not talking to lights, but there’s something in the pit of her stomach that just won’t settle and isn’t just sorrow. Then there’s the package and the knowledge. And the rescue.

And the choice. He’s back and they're going to do everything else, forever, together.

At me, you moved so fast

Saw who I was, loved me just like that

Promised a love that'll last

That now we'll know 'cause we both looked back

“Where are we gonna stay?” he asks softly, arms around her, loathe to let her go.

“Here,” she murmurs against him. “Here, right?” 

Joyce pulls back and looks so puzzled that he would even ask that it makes him want to giggle. How he’s missed watching every emotion flit across her face.

“S’just that there’s not a lot of room. Wondered if you California girls would find it too crowded.”

He sits down on his bed. Their bed?

“I wouldn’t care if it was a shed with one of those tiny army surplus air mattress thingies your granddad left you.”

He throws his head back to laugh. It feels so good to laugh.

“I’m not kidding, Hop.” She can’t bring herself to stop reaching out for him, reassuring herself that he’s there, he’s real. He’s hers? “I’m staying with you.”

“What do we tell the kids?”

“About what?” she asks, her eyebrows doing that thing where one rises higher than the other. “We just say we’re staying here. Together. Jonathan might want to spend time with Nancy, but Will and El aren’t going to say a thing.”

He watches her as she plunks down beside him on the bed and throws herself backwards, hair fanning out.

It’s long now, probably the longest he’s ever seen it aside from the one time she grew it out.

“What?” she exhales, leaning on her elbow and putting her head on her hand.

“I meant about us.”

“Huh?”

“What do we tell the kids about us?”

She snorts and lets her head fall back again. “Pretty sure the kids know about us. Pretty sure they knew about us before we were an us.”

He twists toward her and leans in to kiss her and she reaches out to pull him closer. At last, they’re home.

You can be a fortress, you can be a net

Be an umbrella so I won’t get wet

You can be a bird and I will be the nest

Forever together living life’s best

You can be the grandpa I can be the gran

I can be your lover and you’ll be my man

We can be the old folks walking in the sand

Doing life together, hand in hand

At me, you moved so fast

Didn't want to miss any more of life together 

Now we're so much more than that 

And now we'll know cause we both looked back

He knows he’s staring at her but he can’t help it, she’s always drawn him to her like some sort of siren that he was powerless to resist, even if he tried for so much of their lives.

“You gonna give her back?” he teases softly as he watches his wife stroke the chubby cheek of their newest grandchild.

“What? No. Why?” Joyce looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Just thought maybe Karen would like a turn,” he continues to needle her gently.

She stares, enraptured, at the tiny face cradled close. “Karen can have a turn another day,” she tells him mildly.

He lowers himself down to sit next to her on the new couch. Not the old one that sunk in the middle. He finds himself occasionally nostalgic for that old couch. He liked how his mere sitting would sink the cushions enough that his wife would, by default, find herself nestled against his side. There's something to be said for the way she chooses to move there now, even when the cushions hold steady.

As if reading his thoughts, Joyce tucks herself next to him so he can put his arm around both her and the baby. It’s almost certain that Jonathan will find them like this and start taking pictures, but for now they’re uninterrupted.

“You ever think,” he began tentatively, “what it might have been like if we’d, you know, looked back instead of just blowing right past each other in life.”

“Hmm,” she exhales softly. “Yeah. But I have to believe that everything happened for a reason and I definitely believe that it brought us here.” 

There’s a pause and neither of them speaks. She has more to say, she’s just finding the words. And he knows that.

“We wouldn’t have this.”

“This is pretty perfect, our life.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. “For coming back.”

“Pretty sure you're the one who went to hell and back again to rescue me,” he reminds her.

“It was nothing,” she quips with that smirk that he finds so irresistible. “And,” she says more seriously. “I was tired of missing life together.”

He hums a non-committal noise before answering, “We always have been at our best that way, huh? Together.”

[nancywheelesbian]

Will, in the S3/4 gap: My mom was upset because of all the boyfriends she’s lost to the Upside Down, so I asked her how many times it’s happened and she said she goes and gets a new one after every time. So I told her it sounds like she just feeds her boyfriends to the Upside Down and she got mad

[harbourverse]

I fear I will never recover.

edited to add the correct caption

and bonus -- Winona's turn!

[tfoggirdord]

I miss them

[mymagnets]

Jopper Reunion Ficlet

She thinks she's done a damn good job the last eight months, but she’d be lying if something inside her didn't resurrect the moment she laid eyes on Jim again. Jonathan will tell her later, years from now in a heart-breaking but beautifully honest and healing conversation, that though she had done well –she kept them whole when they were falling to pieces, gave them a safe home, loved them all deeply and even recklessly– she hadn't fully been there with them in the same way she would be now, could be now. And they had missed her, maybe as much as they missed Hop. But she hadn't known, hadn't noticed until this very moment when she felt a piece of her soul slot back into place.

When she turned that key, she had been naive. It had always been a possibility that things would go awry. Things often did in their lives. But she hadn't anticipated the gaping hole the loss of Jim Hopper left in her very being. She hadn't noticed until too late how he’d crept back into her life until his presence was just assumed, how his thoughts and opinions became the norm in a way that nearly let her read his mind, how his protection extended over her and the children to the extent that she actually stopped living in fear. 

So she turned that key. She had to. And everything changed.

She had fought hard to give their kids a normal life. A new normal. They had school, Jonathan worked. They ate dinner together in the evenings like “normal” families. She got a job, got their new house, chatted with their neighbors. 

But at night she cried unless she was too soul-deep tired to. She dreamed. Scenarios they could never achieve with happily ever afters. Nightmares where, over and over, she turned that damn key. By day she functioned by rote. Got up, sent the kids off, worked, made dinner and asked all the right questions about everybody's day. Forgot to eat. Suffered headaches and stomach aches and all sorts of physical manifestations of a grief she couldn't share.

When the package came it arrived with a flicker of hope and a painful realization of all that had been missing those many months.

Now though, she's locked eyes with him and even though the worst could happen, still –and they're Jim and Joyce so the worst usually does– she knows everything is going to fall into place. They're going to put everything back together. They’ll be back together.

At first he held out hope. Not because he was worth it. Then again, maybe he was. Maybe whatever he was to them was The Thing that gave him worth. That was what kept him going.

The thought of El, god, he knew Joyce would take care of her, but still. She’d be good at it too, better than him even. But El had come to count on him for quiet, little things and he knew, even if he didn't dare voice it, that he was irreplaceable.

Jonathan. He didn't expect to spend so many cold and lonely hours thinking of Joyce's oldest son. He's too often overlooked and that reminds him of Joyce back when they were kids. And it's not that he thinks of Jonathan as an extension of his mother or only because of her. It's because he's started to care, damnit, and he can't just quit caring. He wants to be there to help fix Jonathan's car, just because he can, not because anyone is owed anything. He wants to sit at the kitchen table (probably Joyce's since she has more room) and talk about how they're gonna make sure college happens for the kid because it's a joy to watch him excel, not a financial burden that ties them down. 

When Will crosses his mind, he determines again to hold on, keep going, not let go. Because if a tiny little kid can survive what he has, surely a grown man can survive whatever the hell this is.

But Joyce, he knows this could kill her. And he knows she won't let it. She's like a soldier who's had a limb blown off and hasn't even noticed. She'll be hemorrhaging while caring for everyone else around her. And surely, surely he can stay alive for her.

So he resolves to make it out. Decides every day to survive that one day, that one moment.

Until he can get out and they can put it all back together.

And then she walks right into a god-forsaken prison to bring him home. 

He realizes that they don't have to go anywhere. As soon as he holds her in his arms he knows. She is home.

It’s like a completed puzzle. A hole that’s been patched. A wound that has healed.

Ironically, like a key that has been slotted into the proper keyhole, turning smoothly.

Just like so many times before, things will never be the same.

He thinks, if they make it out, things just might be better, because they have each other.

She feels, when they pull through this, she’s never letting go ever again.

[megdoesart]

Emerging from the depths of my unintentional creative hiatus to share some David Duchovny & Gillian Anderson art with you all...

[exlibrisliex]

[itsallmadonnasfault]

[jonathanbyersphd]

Willing & Able

[dunhamsolivia]

winona ryder + there’s no heterosexual explanation for this heathers (1988) welcome home, roxy carmichael (1990) night on earth (1991) bram stoker’s dracula (1992) celebrity (1998) girl, interrupted (1999) friends (2001) sex and death 101 (2007)

[eldritchbauble]

People who have a pervasive shit attitude toward everything are extremely exhausting to be around. No, this doesn't make you a bad person for having trauma or depression. You're allowed to go through hard times and lean on others for support. But there is a point where being negative and spiteful about things all the time is not only self-defeating but harmful to your relationships. There is a meaningful difference between talking about your struggles vs. almost pointedly refusing to engage with opportunities for positive experiences/emotions. The latter becomes contagious and fatiguing for people around you, because you're essentially expecting them to dig themselves into a hole, too. It can even start to feel like you're punishing others for enjoying things if you're not happy. And it's wrong.

[eldritchbauble]

Like my mother will often respond to a comment that's positive or happy by talking about how she's unhappy, upset, or angry about things, and she does it with a spiteful "good for you" tone. Absolutely nothing I say will get her to acknowledge that she's still being shown support and caring even if people aren't willing to be miserable with her all the time. It's a very unhealthy and emotionally immature trait. If this is you, I strongly suggest that you look at ways to improve your distress tolerance and consider the emotional impact you have on others. It is NOT others' job to regulate your emotions or fix all of the wrongs in your life for you. Other people's happiness or attempts at happiness aren't a betrayal.

[eldritchbauble]

The bottom line is that it does actually matter how you frame things, sometimes. A lot of the time. Are you committed to being miserable because you take some form of satisfaction in it, and is that maybe preventing you from being healthier and happier?