▐ ⊰ ' 𝓠. . . does the mother of the lab rat know what will become of her children ?
⌗ 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃 . an independent & mutuals exclusive writing blog for a heavily canon removed rendition of 𝙹𝙾𝚈𝙲𝙴 𝙱𝚈𝙴𝚁𝚂 originating from netflix’s 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, rewritten as an original character, taking inspiration from various midwestern gothic, horror and sci-fi mediums. as found by jayne bird .
𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂 . cassandra’s curse, loss of self, home as the first grave, generational trauma, the influence abuse has on relationships : with others and one's self, the inherent divinity of motherhood, “hysterical women”, when your best is not good enough, parentification of children, survivor’s guilt.
▐ ⊰ ' 𝓠 . . . . could she have stopped it if she did ?
NOTE: I AM NOT AFFILIATED WITH THE STRANGER THINGS FANDOM AT LARGE & DUE HOW COMMON IT IS TO SEE 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 𝗗𝗡𝗜, I AM VERY HESITANT TO FOLLOW FIRST.
standard roleplay etiquette applies, limit godmodding, trim your posts, mutuals only meaning i follow you, you follow me. personal blogs don't reblog content found here etc.
no form of bigotry is welcome here. the mun and muse are both queer individuals. we all know the standard don't be gross, don't be an ass, golden rule. roleplay is a partnership, be kind to one another. ( i have no interest in writing with billy h.argrove, you do you, just not with me. )
this blog heavily focuses on motherhood, grief, the loss of children / the threat of losing children, and the after effects of domestic abuse / dsa . i ask you to keep yourself safe. triggering content will be tagged #[trigger] /
i use small text & icons, i also tend to double / triple space before and after dialogue, i am playing around with colored text at times, and may play around with perspective for replies depending on the situation ( though it is very unlikely to be anything other than snippets of inner dialogue.) if any of my formatting makes it hard for you to see, don’t hesitate to let me know ! you are never expected to match formatting or length in replies.
i am dyslexic, and a majority of my writing is done after work / when i am tired. while i will always try to proof read my writing, i can't promise perfection. <3
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yeah i know we don’t fuck w/ season five, however something near and dear to my heart is joyce b.yers killing vecna. do not strip her of her ‘red dragon’ moment, she deserves it and in this essay i —
opens tumblr but specifically with the intent of screaming about the amount of people joyce loses throughout the series and the amount of pain she has to endure, closes tumblr
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' OH ! ' soft, barely audible as she realizes that it's ending. a sort of something comes over her, a feeling she can't place. she isn't sure how to even begin to place it, actually, but she notices how soft the brunette's hands are as hers reach out for the retreating one. karen's are manicured, perfect. her body was a monument to her suffering, every moment spent on vanity clearly seen in hair perfectly coiffed, makeup painted within all the lines. it was an armor that hid all the parts of her she wished desperately to sink cherry - painted claws into and tear out.
' no, it's fine ! ' a protest too quick to be casual, but she hides her face and worries her gaze down at their hands held now in the center of the table. ' i'm sorry for being . . . ' voice trails off for a moment, as she watches herself begin to toy gently and mindlessly with the fingers on joyce's hand. ' weird. ' gaze back to her companion, eyes shining up at her from where she sat, cross - legged and bouncing a knee. ' it's just been kind of a long . . . ' week ? month ? year ?
' well, things've just been strange for a while. i guess i'm still not used to it. '
A DESIRE TO TOUCH, perhaps it is more simple than that, a desire for connection. to feel something other than the lingering sense of dread that their lives have devolved into. the fear is still there, under the surface, for this is something unexplored.
joyce has not had the chance to point curiosity inward in her adulthood. too busy with work, and kids, meal prep and doctor’s appointments, monsters and government cover ups. to learn about oneself if a privilege, and she has not yet had the time to explore the concept. not really.
she doesn’t laugh when karen apologizes for being weird, but that does not stop a smile from forming, something warm that tugs at heart strings. KAREN WHEELER BEING WEIRD.
“ — no, no, it’s okay. ” she does give a laugh now, not full bodied, but soft, a chuckle that bubbles in her chest. honest. like a wave it settles as quickly as it came, dissipating as if it was never there at all. as if something bad might happen if her joy is too loud.
mother watches karen’s hands against her own, the soft shine of karen’s pink painted manicure compared to the dull curve of her own nails. her thumb nail is chipped from anxious biting, and she would always absentmindedly pick at the chipping paint, ( when was the last time she had time to paint them ? ) joyce finds she’s almost self conscious looking at the comparison.
it’s always been like that, she’s sure they make quite the pair sitting across from one another at the table. the outcast and the model citizen, the delinquent and the prom queen.
but, looking at her in moments like these, rare and fleeting as they might be, joyce can’t bring herself to care about anything else in the world outside of the way the sun casts a halo of warm gold against blonde hair, how good it feels to sit with her. if she could bottle up this moment, if she could save it and keep it safe forever, she would.
“ i think I’ve always kinda liked weird . . . i dunno if you noticed but uh, strange is kinda my thing. ”
give her a break, she’s out of practice when it comes to the art of flirtation.
