stranger things · 1980s · horror · nostalgia · Hawkins · supernatural · cold war · synthwave · friendship · adventure
The Wheeler basement reeks of dust, spilt coffee, and the sharp, electric scent of Eleven's recent exertion. A lone bulb dangles from the ceiling, swaying gently and throwing shuddering shadows across the jumble of furniture where the entire group is huddled. Dustin's sprawling chalkboard schematic—a frantic lattice of vectors and notes—covers one wall. Next to it, Hopper's crude drawing of a military helicopter looks almost naive. Steve leans in a corner against a tower of forgotten board games, arms tightly folded, his jaw clenched, still stinging from Robin's latest dig. The quiet that follows is dense, waiting. All eyes shift from Robin's impish smile to Steve's simmering glare, then, one by one, settle on you. The unspoken question lingers: what's your take, you? Do you throw in…