#d4rkmoor

[atmelvalds]

Send a 📸 to see 3-5 pictures that my muse has/has taken of your muse(s)

@d4rkmoor he's a byers alright, fits right into this crazy family

[atmelvalds]

The  number  of  times  Joyce  had  been  stuck  on  the  damn  phone  trying  to  confirm  Jonathan’s  new  prescription  was  getting ridiculous. All the papers were filled out weeks ago.  It  wasn’t  that  he  needed  her  help,  in  fact,  he’d  tried  to  do  it  himself  but  Joyce  was better  equipped  to  handle  obnoxious  doctors  than  he  was.  It  was  really  the  least  she  could  do  since  finding  out  he  needed  glasses.  So  when  they  finally  got  the  approval  they  needed,  Joyce  insisted  on  going  with  @d4rkmoor and  wouldn’t  take  no  for  an  answer.  By  the  time  they  got  to  the  store  Joyce  was  in  full  mom  mode,  cranked  up  to  the  max. One  of  the  store  clerks  attempted  to  offer  assistance  and  advice  but  gave  up  when  Joyce  kept  butting  in  with  her  own  comments,  eventually  leaving  mother  and  son  to  fend  for  themselves. 

Joyce  made  a  face  that  gave  away  she  was  unimpressed,  immediately  complaining  as  soon  as  the  clerk  was  out  of  earshot.  “Did  you  hear  what  that  woman  said  about  ' the ones in your price range? ',  what  the  hell  was  that  supposed  to  mean?  We  never  told  her  our  price  range,”  Joyce  muttered  under  her  breath,  resisting  the  urge  to  throw  a  glare  over  her  shoulder  in  the  clerk's  direction.  She  didn’t  care  about  being  judged  herself  but  she  didn’t  want  some  stranger  making  assumptions  about  her  son. “What  about  these  ones?”  Joyce  reached  to  pull  a  pair  down  from  the  display  rack.  They  were  black-rimmed  with  square-shaped  lenses. “They’ll  make  you  look  even  more  handsome.  What  do  you  think?”  She  held  them  out  for  him  to  try  with  an  encouraging  smile. 

[freakarus]

i haven't forgotten what you said last week. from sam owens on @d4rkmoor.

PROMPTS FOR PRE ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS AND CREATING HISTORY BETWEEN CHARACTERS

GRIEF IS NOT LINEAR. it never ends. for eddie, it felt never-ending from the second jane disappeared before him. that moment replays in his mind like a twisted broken record player. for the first few years, every time he closed his eyes, it's all he saw. transported right back there; with the dawning, HORRIFYING realisation that jane was not alongside him, mike, joyce, or anyone else. it took more than one person to hold him back. no pushing, screaming her name or running was enough. the sound of everything CAVING IN still haunts him.

the world didn't end for hawkins that day, but it did for eddie.

he ran from the grief, but it always caught up to him. on a sunny day in the middle of the street, quiet nights, busy days, or thunderstorms - the weather he'd once talked her out of being afraid of. eventually they'd both run to watch the windows together, teaching jane not to be afraid, instead be excited. there's no more running to the window, he hides from it. reminds him too much of that moment.

everyone eventually moved on in their own ways. eddie remained stuck in the past, frozen in time. how was he supposed to carry on?? every moment had a memory with jane associated. every waking hour && sleepless night. she stepped into his life, huddled by the refrigerator, && became more than a passing story. she gave MEANING to his life. structure, responsibility && most importantly, love. a younger sibling in all but official name.

there's only so much one can do to cope, && in eddie's case?? avoiding worsening the grief with a list of substances, aimless days && nights && reckless behaviour. none of it brings her back. none of it reverses time. driving to nowhere until the sun came up became a nightly routine. one day eddie kept driving, never came back. los angeles, california had always called to him, but even more so then. hawkins was a shell, empty without the bright presence of janessa ives.

california was a clean slate. it was easier to stay distracted. letters were written home, of course. wayne, dustin, SAM OWENS, who'd been a great comfort after what happened. constantly checking in, answering the phone at stupid hours, understanding the depth of grief, && eventually, writing every month. eddie is certain had sam not been there, his story would've had darker turns.

three years worth of his letters sit stacked on the shelf in the cramped, messy apartment just off sunset boulevard. it wasn't the dream life eddie had imagined, jane should be here visiting, but it was better than home.

smoke drifts through the air from a cigarette held in hand && steam from a much needed black coffee at the small kitchen table. he hasn't been sleeping well. messing up shows lately (where a familiar face stood in the crowds, he'd not noticed) && fumbling at work.

she's been in every dream the last few weeks.

vividly, like she's reaching out from beyond the GRAVE surrounded by darkness. eddie's not a religious man, never has been, doesn't believe in an afterlife -- but this nightly occurence has him questioning his own beliefs, life itself, death. as comforting as it is, seeing her && hearing her again so realistically, the morning's are heartbreaking. && he can't shake it, wondering why now.

eddie wrote to sam two weeks ago. asked how he is, how's his wife, told him all about the dreams, the unknown significance of the timing (oh boy, just you wait), the lack of sleep && how much he misses jane.

a knock snaps him out of sleepy thoughts, bolting upright as brown doe eyes, underlined darkly, stare at the door. he's not expecting company. another firm knock && he's jumping from the seat, frantically undoing the chain on the door. the door only opens a few inches, peeking out to catch sight of the unexpected visitor. SAM.

although the two have spoken regularly over the years, he hasn't seen him since '87. " what the fuck?? " eddie mumbles in disbelief, the door opening wider. a quiet laugh escapes him as the other stands before him. no lab coat, no shirt && tie. far more relaxed - with sunglasses, considering the california sun in comparison to dreary indiana. a hand immediately waves him to come inside, " you could've told me you were gonna just fuckin' materialise before my eyes here, man. i would've fixed the place up at least. " hm, would he have??

mugs by the nearby sink clink together as eddie scrambles to find a clean one, a final drag of a cigarette before it's dunked into one of the many unclean mugs. " what're you doing all the way out here?? " success, the last of the filter coffee poured into one unused mug, handed to the other with a grin that doesn't quite meet his eyes like it used to, but a grin of excitement nonetheless. " don't tell me you came all this way for little ole' me?? " curls falling to the side as he tilts his head slightly in curiosity.

but the smile widening on eddie's face falters, brow furrowing as he realises ... well, something must be WRONG, right?? then sam speaks, noting he hasn't forgotten their last correspondence. eddie blinks, staring back at the other like he's speaking a different language - hey, he hasn't sleep great - until it clicks. there goes the smile entirely. his demeanour deflating with a frown && the slump of shoulders. he shouldn't have put out that cigarette so soon. " uh, which part?? 'cause the lack of sleep's no big deal. " it is. " or ... " missing jane??

[freakarus]

can we talk about it? from terry ives on @d4rkmoor.

PROMPTS FOR PRE ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS AND CREATING HISTORY BETWEEN CHARACTERS

eddie has always tried to turn discomfort && anxieties into something. loudness. noise. guitar riffs, music blasted loud enough for neighbours to complain, theatrics && rants or sarcastic comments to fill voids of silence. silence had always been deafening, more so than the screeching volume-level-past-ten intro's of songs on repeat.

once jane came into the picture, she filled the silence. an abundance of somewhat blunt questions, commentary && curiosity. can't a guy brush his teeth without a fucking running commentary?? he'd commented once. but really, eddie wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

when jane returned to terry, he was relieved but couldn't help the dread that began to seep in. a tension awaiting the silence on his return home whenever wayne would be out, which is often.

but that day never came, not with how welcoming terry had been.

her home, albeit far vaster than his own, is soft. not loud, not messy, but not quiet. there's always company. there's a distant shuffle of someone around, a hum of a radio, quiet requests for help && his unwavering, unspoken agreement to always be there, for both of them. it wasn't a scary silence. not with jane, not in this home, not with terry -

until now.

terry's question isn't spoken sharply nor shouted, nothing of the sort, but eddie tenses up regardless. the curiosity (like mother like daughter) isn't the problem, it's the TOPIC. alan. the dad who refused to step up but also refused to stay gone - waltzing back into hawkins just this week like it's no issue at all, dragging all eddie's resentment back with him.

fingers that had been tapping a beat on the table between them abruptly stop, instead fidgeting with the silver metal of his rings. his gaze suddenly interested in the glint of moonlight spilling through the kitchen curtain, the wall clock strikes close to midnight. the silence comes creeping back in at his refusal to respond. tensed shoulders attempt a shrug, brushing off the question but he knows terry. he respects terry enough to not be flippant.

" there's, uh, not much to say. " the silence is broken, but it doesn't shatter in a satisfying resolution back to comfort. he still hasn't looked at her. she hasn't spoken either. she could, but she doesn't. lets him stew in the silence. && it works, brown eyes flicker back toward the other for a brief moment. " i didn't even know he was around. " that's a lie.

the discomfort is palpable in the air.

but wasn't it inevitable, he thinks, he'd eventually have to talk about the family lore - more like a curse bestowed upon him by one alan munson. a dad in name only, if even. hell, terry's been more of a parent figure than alan ever could've been. " i don't care that he's - " the fidgeting ceases && hands gesture around them, " - back. again. " jaw clenching at the emphasis on again.

he stumbles through sentences trying hard not to sound like an emotional mess, but meeting her gaze again relieves some of the tension. terry's LISTENING. not interrupting, not lecturing, not brushing him off. " i was too busy, forgot the guy existed. " until this week. ah, the peace of forgetting one's estranged father. && besides, eddie's time had been more focused on the kid who'd once wandered into the trailer eating canned food out of the refrigerator. she'd needed help, attention, a routine, a friend, a family. " jane came along and then she found you again. and ... now look at us. the three musketeers. " there it is, a hint of a smile after what felt like an eternity of frowning. " he doesn't really matter anymore. "

[unholyfuries]

@d4rkmoor + for hiccup

she didn't fear him like she had once before. the songs of the light furies always spoke of the beasts called humans in the same way- terrible creatures that were violent and greedy and most of all, dragon killers.

since she had hatched into the hidden world years ago, spread her wings wide and breathed her first breath, this warning had been instilled upon her. within her, even.

humans were dangerous. humans were bad.

that had been proven when she had strayed too far from home. had been captured, restrained, tormented and starved. but then she had met him, the odd black fury that would become her mate. she had never seen a black fury before, but her mother would speak of them often. a breed they once knew well, now lost to the roar of the waterfall and the hands of fearful men.

and through him, her beloved mate, she saw a different side of humanity. she was still wary, pure instinct and past traumas rearing their head, but she did not flinch from his gaze and raise her scaled hackles like she might have done when they first met.

her blue eye regard the human with reluctant warmth, crooning low in the back of her throat while her hatchlings play with the human's own offspring. she doesn't fear for them. there is a trust here now.

her mate says the human is called hiccup.