#punchback

●: which time of the day do you rp best?

uh my track record would say never haha. it comes in waves, sometimes i can write all day. sometimes it's the middle of the night. sometimes its just on discord which is @alwaysthegdbabysitter's problem lol

☺: do you prefer memes or plots?

i like both. sometimes memes are easier then plotting. sometimes plotting isn't something that you can avoid. oooooor you could end up again like @alwaysthegdbabysitter and we could spend MONTHS plotting out our muses entire life from sun up to sun down lol

- 📷 - that.... hurt.

jonathan thought that , of all people in hawkins , at least his own mother would know that was never his intention. he was risking his life because he thought his brother's life is worth more than his own. not for some selfish reason like ' feeling like a hero '

'' i'm doing this for will! all i do is for will or you! ''

since moving to lenora, jane has spent most days in a depression over losing hopper but at the same time being over the moon about having a family. she has joyce and two brothers now and in small flashes of a moment, she feels like a normal girl. but her mind is cruel to her and she's quickly reminded of the reality that she will never be normal. it doesn't feel possible in the slightest.

she's learning from joyce that she can try though.

Jonathan was bent over the dining table, photos from his latest project all laid out. Normally, he’d do this in his room, but the lighting was better in here, and he needed to see them all at once to get a feel for which stood out the most. He was looking between them, his brow pinched with focus as he took in layouts and color compositions, mumbling under his breath.

He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed, and didn’t notice his mother’s car pulling in as she returned from work. “What the hell…? Did I overdevelop this or something? Jesus,” he grabbed the photo up and tossed it behind him to land on the pile of rejects.

           it's  warm  here .  that  place  was  cold  and  damp  in  a  way  that  takes  root  and  never  lets  go  ;  it  seeped  into  your  bones  a  long  time  ago  and  chased  away  the  memory  of  what  it  felt  like  to  be  warm .  you  adapted .  the  cold  became  bearable  /  the  shivering  STOPPED .  after  a  while ,  it  didn't  even  hurt  to  breathe .  so  well  adapted  that  the  clear  air  and ,  alleged ,  chill  of  hawkins  feels  more  CHALLENGING  to  survive  in.   part  of  you  longs  to  go  back .  that  is  the  life  you  know ,  the  hellish  place  you've  come  to  call  home  these  last  few  years ,  and  there's  a  voice  in  the  back  of  your  head  whispering  to  come  home .

            BUT  YOU  CANT .  this  was  the  life  you  knew  before  that  and  you  chose  to  follow  mike  back  to  it .  there's  a  sketchbook  rested  against  your  knees ,  the  pages  greyed  and  you  can't  really  remember  where  you  stole  it  from  anymore  because  there  was  NO  ONE  there  to  notice  some  missing  paper  and  pencils .  you  needed  them .  it's  full  of  admittedly  rough  sketches ,  places  and  FACES ,  and  right  now  you  try  to  write  down  everything  you've  been  told  since  you  got  here .  names ,  mostly ,  corresponding  to  the  out  of  date  portraits .  you  don't  want  to  forget  the  details  again .

            there's  a  sun  here .  you  haven't  seen  daylight  in  so  long  it  had  actually  HURT ,  which  is  why  you  sit  in  the  corner  of  this  basement  in  what  they  called  the  squawk .  no  daylight  to  hurt  your  eyes  /  back  against  the  wall  because  old  habits  die  hard  and  they  insisted  you  leave  the  rifle  upstairs .  you  saw  the  sun  rise  once  since  getting  here  but  you  couldn't  say  how  long  it's  actually  been .

            STRANGE ,  the  things  the  you  were  attuned  to  now .  because  you  can't  tell  how  long  you've  been  HERE    so  much  noise  /  so  many  arguments  /  some  complicated  reunions    but  you  can  hear  footsteps  approaching .  survival  instincts ,  someone  had  called  them ,  like  they  were  COOL  rather  than  painful  lessons  learned .  you  have  a  scar  for  EVERY  TIME  you  failed  to  stay  on  guard .  look  up  through  long  hair ,  choppy  where  it  falls  in  your  face .  it's  been  a  while  since  you  got  the  chance  to  cut  it .

            no  need  to  flip  to  the  page  in  your  book .  you  recognise  joyce  byers ,  your  mother ,  even  if  you  hadn't  before .  maybe  that  was  PART  of  why  it  was  a  particularly  complicated  reunion .  the  birthmark  on  your  arm  that  helped  is  still  exposed .  it's  too  warm  to  put  on  long  sleeves .  does  she  wish  that  mike  hadn't  found  you ?  they  must  have  all  MOVED  ON ,  and  the  little  voice  that  says  to  come  home  also  suggests  that  she  probably  built  a  NEW  LIFE .  one  you  are  interrupting  now .  obviously ,  you  don't  voice  this .  you  haven't  learned  enough  about  anyone's  life  to  consider  if  there's  space  for  you  yet .

            at  some  point  along  the  way  of  your  relative  isolation ,  words  became  SPARING ,  and  anything  you  say  carefully  considered .  right  now ?  you  feel  at  a  LOSS .  knees  draw  tighter  to  chest ,  arm  wrapping  around  your  legs ,  and  still  you're  unsure  what  to  say .  maybe  they've  all  come  to  realise  that  you  don't  belong  here  anymore ,  mike  made  a  mistake  and  it's  time  for  you  to  LEAVE .  you  hope  not .  slide  the  sketchbook  out  where  it  was  trapped  between  knees  and  chest ,  flipping  through  the  pages  until  you  find  the  one  you  wanted .  it's  pretty  far  back .  " i  used  to  go  back  here  sometimes .  it's  our  house ,  right . "  voice  still  a  little  rough  from  disuse ,  turn  the  sketchbook  to  face  her  almost  nervously .  there's  notes  scribbled  in  the  margins .  you  haven't  been  back  in  a  long  time .  " do  you  still  live  there ? "