✨Mother fanon's✨

I've been crying for almost a day, scrolling through my feed and trying to reassure myself that this is getting to something ridiculous, but damn, WHAT DOES ALL THIS MEAN?!?!?!?!?!

I know I promised another fanfic this month. Don't worry, it's on its way, and in the meantime, you can break the wait with a new story that promises to be exciting. 

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler Characters: Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers, Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Billy Hargrove, Murray Bauman, Martin Brenner Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Magic, Trials, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Horror, Angst, Slow Burn, Intrigue, Drama, Politics, Detectives Summary:

A magical accident in the city center is a headache. The investigation by an intrusive journalist is a problem. And the unexpected activity of an old, long "frozen" Watch asset is already a crisis.

Night Watch Chief Jim Hopper has to deal with it all at once. Journalist Nancy Wheeler has to choose between a scoop and those who have ended up on the other side of her investigation. Her brother Mike has to figure out who he is in this world and whether fate can be cheated.

I hope you like it. If not, you can always email me with your ideas and suggestions, and I'll be happy to discuss them with you.

~~~

"What..." Robin faltered. "What do you feel? When you inject morphine."

Finney didn't flinch. He just kept staring and staring, and staring at the ceiling. Still as limp and naked as before. A cool autumn wind blew in from the window. He noticed Blake's skin prickle: a quick herd of goosebumps ran from his neck down to his hips, meeting the light fabric of the sheet that covered his legs to the ankles.

He looked at him and couldn't understand. Finnian's face was blank, his gaze unmoving, and it seemed as if his breath, along with his heartbeat, disappeared for long minutes.

"Nothing."

The voice was quiet. Hoarse. Not at all like the one he'd heard earlier that evening. Robin turned his head to the ceiling, trying to find something there, but saw only the whitewash, slightly yellowed from cigarette smoke. Nothing.

Minutes slowly flowed into one another. The draft intensified, but neither of them moved. After a while, the last lights of the houses went out, leaving them in pitch darkness.