#or making it harder for cops to murder us and get away with it

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

Cw: political rant (?)

[harlowhockeystick]

OH, HERE WE GO AGAIN ⎯ Nathan MacKinnon

y/n is tired of nate crashing her parties, nate is tired of her making dumb decisions, especially with a killer on the loose.

dirty cop!nate x fem!reader

warnings: smut (18+ MDNI, rough sex, spitting, absolute raunchy shit), cuss words, college parties, i would consider this a dark fic so take that as you wish, talk of murder and serial killers, drug deals.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: y'all know me, always makin up new au's. but this time i get to use my (almost) degree. read with caution because i really got down and dirty with this one, but please enjoy.

🎧⎯ listen to "my boy only breaks his favorite toys", "i can fix him (no really i can)" by taylor swift, "THE GREATEST" by billie eilish

she could sense his presence before he even walked into the house. she was aware of the chances of running into him when she went out that he would show up, especially when she went to a house party or a bar on the weekends. he always seemed to show up right when things started to get sticky, she could never figure out why.

she saw the flashing blue and red lights, heard forceful bangs on the door. she chugged the remaining alcohol before getting caught by officer mackinnon once again. people started to scramble, running out to the backyard and jumping the fence, hiding in closets or finding an exit before they got caught with things they should have in hand. y/n was clear, but she knew what was in store whenever nathan showed up.

"alright, show's up! everybody out!" y/n heard his booming voice as she stood in the kitchen talking to her friends. a couple of her friends ditched before officers barged in, one more stayed behind. one that nate didn't like.

"officers! what's the issue?" one of the frat boys approached nate, trying to act like the walls weren't shaking from the bass and the smell of vodka and weed wasn't leaking into the streets. "we're just trying to have fun." nate rolls his eyes and shoves past the boy, letting the other officers deal with him. he shoves people out of the way, yanking beer bottles out of hands and tugging drug baggies out of shirt pockets. then he spots you in the kitchen, a sinister smirk on his lips.

"well well, thought i told you to stay away from these things?" he strides toward her grabbing her hand aggressively, pulling her toward the door. he gave her friend a nasty look up and down, muttering something about how much of a bitch she is.

"whatever do you mean officer? can't a simple college girl enjoy a party on the weekends?" y/n uses a very sweet but annoying tone while talking to him, blowing a kiss to one of the boys as she makes her way out. that just makes him pull on your hands harder, making her strain.

"you're in your last semester of grad school and you work a full time job, hardly consider you a college girl, sweetie." nate bites back, pushing you down on the hood of his matte black squad car, the one he usually uses for undercover work. he pats you down, his hands getting dangerously close to some of his favorite areas on you. but he's not gonna do that in public, at least. sometimes he has manners. he tells you to lean against his car while he gets a breathalyzer, opening the package. he holds it up to your lips, "blow."

"take me on a date first nathan," you wrap your lips around the device and hold steady eye contact with him, blowing out strongly for five seconds. he takes it out and waits for the results.

"hmm, past the legal limit." he shakes his head.

"i hold my liquor real well officer."

nate manhandles her into the backseat of his car, slamming the door in her face. getting in the front seat he drives the familiar route to her house where she gets more intoxicated by the second with the alcohol just circling her system. he helps y/n into her own house, unlocking the door (he hopes she wouldn't notice that he had his own on his keychain) and into her bedroom. she's a giggling, fidgety mess as he tries to help her get dressed into pajamas at least.

"how come you're always ruining my parties, nathan." she spits at him, sitting up in bed lazily wiping her makeup off with a rag he gave her.

"i'm not ruining anything, i'm trying to keep you safe. how many times do i have to tell you i don't like you going to those things, the last thing i need is you getting roofied and i find you on a bathroom floor with your fuckin panties at your knees." he breathes after his rant; standing tall with his chest full of air, his voice getting louder and louder with every other word. "and quit calling me nathan." he failed to realize that he actually struck a nerve with her as he saw tears well up in her eyes.

she crossed her arms over her chest, turning the bedside lamp off signaling it was time for him to leave. he sighed, trying to reach down and make it up by giving her a kiss on the forehead. she swerved out of the way, pulling the quilt up over her shoulders and staring at the wall across from her.

-

nate and y/n have a strange relationship. they've known each other for so long, since they can remember. nate had a tougher upbringing than she did, which drove him into a tough and rugged job like the police force. when she got accepted into university he was graduating the academy faster than expected from his peers.

he had an odd attachment to her, and he refused to admit to anyone that he was in love with her. he'd been in love since they kissed under the bleachers in seventh grade when she got his gum stuck in her braces. he stays in love with her, that's why in his mind he makes up valid excuses to him stalking her every move around town when he's on duty. especially when he's on his undercover watch.

she's yet to figure out how he comes in clutch so quick, and he's thankful for that. he doesn't have an explanation made up in his head yet when she does figure it out.

nate stays watch outside of her house until his shift is over, listening to radar and watching the time go by. he really doesn't know what he would do if he found her on some bathroom floor. he would probably black out and rip every man apart limb to limb until he found the dick who did it, and only then would he lose complete control. definitely lose his badge and his gun.

his shift ends and he pulls away, driving the fifteen minutes across town to his own place for the night. he dreams about her each and every night, some good and some bad. one time he dreamt about asking her to be his to show off, and she said no. it's a deep fear of his, truly, her saying no; because he really wants to ask her at least once...maybe to the movies keep it simple?

but he never ends up making a decision. he keeps things the way they are for now, nate stalking her around town when he's on shift, stealing her away from frat parties, and pulling her over when she gets too close to the edge of town. the hold he has on her is addicting, like the worst type of drug he's encountered.

-

no more parties. you need to be more careful.

you're not my dad, i am a grown woman who does what she wants

she's not gonna do shit if she gets killed. there's been a few murders in the surrounding counties of college aged girls at parties, they took em out back and fucked em up.

how nice of you to look out for me.

i'm serious, no more. i don't care, i'll follow you around to every single party you even think of going to.

whatever, nathan.

-

"we got a lead on our target- pretty good lead, he's gonna be at some party on erskine street tonight." nathan sat in the team meeting with the other detectives around the table, the other undercover detective sitting next to him in street clothes also.

"we have reason to believe that he is either involved or the cause of the string of murders in the county. four college aged women have been killed in similar ways, but all four were found with their hair cut and their throats slit along with cut marks along their inner thighs."

nate tuned out a long time ago when they mentioned parties and college women. his mind went the worst way possible. what if is was her who was next? what if she was found in a ditch somewhere? what if she was going to be at this party tonight?

"hayes, you're gonna be at this party tonight-" his heart rate sky rocketed. he wasn't about to let someone else do this job.

"with all do respect sir- he doesn't look like a college aged kid. i'm the only person on this team who is close in age to a college kid, i have a better chance getting into this party than hayes." he gave a sly look over to his colleague, knowing he was right. it stunted his boss a little bit, surprised by his assertiveness.

"alright, you can go. you know what to do if you see him. you'll have on a wire, don't do something stupid." yeah, but he doesn't know what to do if she's there and he's there.

the meeting ends and he goes out to his car, sitting with the air conditioner lightly blowing on him. he thinks about texting her as a warning, but he knows that it would only freak her out. he thinks about going to her house and having an in person conversation, but he knows after how last weekend went she wouldn't welcome him in. nate can only hope she finally for once in her life takes his advice and doesn't come to this party.

-

nathan slips the guy at the door a hundred dollar bill, letting him in the party. he knows it isn't going to be easy, he's bigger and has a different look in his eye compared to all the other college boys in this frat house. he feels like he's still got it, though, as he walks through the house and every single girl is giving him the eyes he used to get his freshman year. it takes him back.

he turns it on immediately, allowing girls to flirt and run their hands up his body. he has to be careful not to drink, because if the target is here he can't arrest someone while under the influence; that's not how he wants to be on the news.

nate feels good in his dirty little groove he has going on, dancing with four different girls, kissing them and feeling their bodies with his calloused hands. but he feels her presence- no, he feels her eyes on him before anything else. he slowly turns around and she's giving him the worst look of his life. he feels caught, a deer in headlights, a kid stealing candy, a criminal caught in the act.

but his body acts before his mind does. shoving the girls off of him and making his way through the crowd, he follows after her. when she realized he was coming her way she bolted, setting her drink on a random surface, turning around and trying to get away from him. but he was too fast- he pulled her shirt and into a vacant room.

nate flipped the lights on and when he did she slapped the silly look off his face. but he couldn't do anything, he knew he deserved it. "you fucking dick!" she shouted, pushing him away from her. she continued to yell and shout profanities at him, wanting nate to feel the betrayal she felt.

but she took it too far when she shouted police officer. immediately he put one stiff arm on her chest and one hand covered her mouth, pushing her against the nearest wall. "shut up," he quietly spat, reaching to turn the lights off. he could still see her from the street light that was pouring in through the open window.

"i'm here because the guy we've been going after is going to be here tonight. that is the only fucking reason i'm even here-" she rolled her eyes and tried to move away, "he's killed four other women, your age and your body type, and he's one of the leaders in the drug trade 'round here. so i'd shut the fuck up and listen if i were you, babe."

he saw her eyes soften through the faint lighting and he knew he caught her attention. nathan felt her stiff muscles relax as she stood up straight against the wall, not trying to fight with him anymore. he removes his arm and hand, but he doesn't step away from her quite yet. "i didn't know you were like, a detective. thought you just wrote tickets."

"there's a lot you don't know about me, y/n." he opens his phone to see a text from his partner who was staking out down the street. "he's here." he swear he heard her stop breathing for a few seconds when the words slipped out of his mouth.

there is a killer, a drug leader, a criminal in this house.

nate sensed her anxiety and placed his large hand on her cheek, "stay here until i come get you. i don't care if someone else comes in here do not leave this room until i come get you, understand?" she nodded her head.

he left the room and went downstairs, going to the backyard to grab a drink. he found a cold bottle of coke and took a sip, but as he opened it he saw the target. ten feet from him, was the man he and his unit had been hunting for the past month and a half. reminding himself he was wearing a wire he muttered the code into his chest before making his way over to the target.

"hey man," he gave the man a head nod as he slipped him a fake fifty dollar bill. the target chuckled, "you're new, haven't met you yet have i?"

"new in town, i'm a grad transfer, tryna make it through the first couple weeks y'know?" the target nodded his head. standing up he put his hands in his pocket. just as he did so, nate's backup team busted through the house shouting with their guns pointed, looking for the target. he heard the ruckus, looked at nate and took off toward the gate in the backyard trying to jump the fence.

nate grabbed him by his coat and threw him to the ground roughly, pulling his hands behind his back and slapping handcuffs on his wrist. "you're under arrest motherfucker," nate said through gritted teeth.

the other police officers were getting everyone out of the house and shutting the party down while nate and his colleague took the target to his car. "wait here, i'll be back in a minute." he knew that they still had to get a confession out of the target. his department was known for getting a one hundred percent confession rate, and those never came from the interrogation room. nate was known for getting those in the back of his police car.

he walked back into the house and into the room where y/n was still sitting on the bed. he let out a small sigh of relief. "i'll get someone to drive you home. i have to finish up here."

she couldn't decide on what emotion to feel quite yet. anger? she was extremely angry with nate. fear? she was stricken with fear from the moment nate told her the reason he was really there. worry? she was worried about what might have happened if something went wrong in the arrest.

there was some part of her that was thankful nate was safe, that he was okay, and nothing bad happened. she hated that.

he walked her out of the house and told his colleague to take her home. "i'll see you in an hour." nate watched her get into his partners car before getting into his own. except he got in the backseat next to the target, not the front.

nate grabbed his gun from his holster that was hiding under his thick sweatshirt, wiping it off with a small handkerchief he kept in his jeans pocket, and pressed it firmly against the targets thigh looking the man in the eyes. "you have once chance to confess, i suggest you do it now."

-

she hadn't moved off of her couch since nate's partner dropped her off. she sat there on the white polyester sofa, staring at the front door, listening to the light whistle of her air conditioner. she had been counting down the minutes of the hour when nate said he would be there.

y/n couldn't figure out why she was feeling the way she was feeling, but she couldn't exactly put a name to her feeling either. worried about nate, but also incredibly angry at him. her heart and her mind were at war with each other because deep deep down she knew she loved nate, but she hated him at the same time. hated how he was always so controlling, how he was in her business all the fucking time.

her thoughts were interrupted when she saw headlights pull into her driveway and could make out the outline of his car. he walked into her house and saw the saddened figure of her, sitting on the sofa.

but when he walked in, she felt angry again.

nate shut the door and locked it, taking off his sweatshirt and tossing it onto the chair that faced the windows. he was afraid to speak first, because he could sense a bomb was about to go off and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"tell me everything. i'm done with your lies, i'm done with your bullshit, i'm done nathan. tell me everything." he purses his lips and sits on the carpet across from her on the couch- he knows better than to sit next to her when she presses her hands against her lips.

"i put a tracker on your car." that's the first thing he says- if looks could kill he would already be buried by now. "i've been following you on my shifts, sometimes off my shifts too. every party, date, football game you went to i was there too."

"nath-"

"with a killer on the loose? no way i'm letting you out of my sight. i care too much about you. the last thing i want to find out is rolling up to another crime scene and see you dead."

"how long have you been following me?" she said, her tone fierce and her eyes cold.

"since i became an officer." she took in a deep breath, slowly standing up and running her hands into her hairline. she turns around and he starts to speak again, attempting to defend himself but she cuts him off.

"you've been following me for almost five fucking years?!" she screams, veins in her neck protruding and her hands balled into fists out of anger. nate bowed his head and pursed his lips together out of shame. she was bound to found out at one point. "nathan you're insane- you're a fucking psycho i can't even-"

"you could have been dead tonight! you could've been fucking raped and killed if i wasn't there tonight!" his rough voice cut you off, "i've kept you safe from so much. i've kept you from being drugged, kidnapped, and you've never thanked me once."

she rolled her eyes and tried to turn around but nate grabbed her arm fiercely, definitely leaving a bruise. "you don't realize all the shit i've done for you. all those girls he murdered looked exactly you: same hair color, eye color, height, age. you coulda been next you know that?"

she wanted to be angry. she wanted to be frustrated. she wanted to kick him out of her house and never let him back in ever again. block his number, throw away everything he left at her house and ditch his memories forever. "why then? if you're so mean to me, such a fucking helicopter of a man, why?"

"cause i love you! i'm fucking obsessed with you and you refuse to see that! you're so caught up with yourself and your own image that you never fucking even pay attention to me," nate had her pushed against the wall now, his hands firmly on her hip bones as his stare was melting.

"you're not good to me. i'm your favorite toy that you break all the damn time, you come running back to me,"

"'cause you're my favorite."

a moment of silence between the two drives nate crazy. he makes the first move that he knows she was dying for. every time they've had an argument it's led to them tossing underneath her bedsheets until the clock strikes midnight.

his lips encapsulate hers, at first she's timid but inevitably gives in. it's a natural response at this point, her body craves his at all times. one day her mind will catch up. it's his mission to make that happen.

he's about to push her sweatshirt up with his hands but he feels a firm hand press against his chest. "there's more you have to tell me, i know it." she pushes him in her bedroom and closes the door. he falls onto the bed with her standing in between his legs tall, making him look up at him. he knows she's trying to intimidate him, and he hates to admit that it's almost working.

"i've been working undercover for this fuckin' gang for almost two years." she leans down and pulls at his basketball shorts that he wore; she can't lie she liked seeing him in shorts. there was something about his thick muscles abusing the thin material that made her want to jump him but she had to remind herself that she was angry with him. she wanted to make him pay.

"that friend you had- fuck," he felt her soft hand press hard against his crotch, "cassie? i threatened her after you told me she stole from you. that's why you haven't heard from her in over a year." he closed his eyes and she slowly, but with firm hands, started to stroke the outline of his cock through the material of his briefs.

she pulled down her denim shorts and kicked them toward her closet. he chuckled seeing a damp spot on her panties. even angry she can't ignore the way she feels about him.

"that guy you said made you feel uncomfortable on that date six months ago? i got him arrested for drugs." she knelt down and took his cock out, thumbing over the tip making him inhale sharply. "and you remember - fuck - that time when you got a flat tire?" he fell back to the bed when she held eye contact, spitting on his dick and rubbing her hand up and down. "i put a nail in your tire just so you'd call me."

"you're insane."

"i'm in love with you," he sits up and puts his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to kiss him. this time she gave in immediately, kissing back with a passion. he pulled back to take his shirt off and she did the same. he reached around her back and unhooked her bra letting it fall to the ground. she straddled him, slowly sinking onto his hard dick.

it stung at first- neither of them thought to use any protection. their minds are too foggy and they're too in love to do anything about it. "i'd kill for you, y/n." he breathes out when she finally sinks all the way down onto him. "why do i get the feeling you already have?"

both of their eyes are blown with lust as they move together in sync. his large rough hands move across her back, feeling her soft skin close to his. he kisses her tits, sucking and leaving love bites where stretch marks have made their light indent across. he sucks on the most sensitive parts that knows make her moan and her back arch.

she grinds down, his cock hitting the best spot inside her smoothly while her clit grazes against his skin so effortlessly. it's the best feeling she's had all day. she holds on tightly to his shoulders, nails gripping hard and leaving crescent moons from her firm hold. biting her lip as she feels the bubble in her stomach about to burst. nate sits back and watches her ride it out on top of him and it's the most satisfying thing he's ever seen. she moans his name and slows her pace down, firmly grabbing his jaw and pulling him in for a kiss, raking her hand down his chest.

"do you trust me?" he asked as he pulled away.

"i do now," she admitted, running a hand through his short blonde hair. in once quick movement he flipped the both of them over causing her to shriek. he slides out of her, standing up to the edge of the bed. pulling the rest of his briefs off his body he takes in a deep breath.

"turn over," she does as told, propping herself up on her elbows. he brushed her hair out of the way, kissing a trail up her spine as he lined himself up with her entrance. still slick and ready she dipped her head down but let out a sigh when she felt his whole body weight press down on her. nate laced his fingers with hers, "safe word if it's too much. promise i'll stop this time."

not even starting out in a good pace, nate goes straight to fucking her lights out. his body moving with a vicious pace, using every muscle he has on his body into making her body mold with his. nate bit down onto her neck with his teeth lightly while he picked up his pace in an ungodly manner.

her poor bed frame was squeaking and she could bear the base breaking with every thrust. she kept moaning but couldn’t form words, her body tingling from the pleasure she was feeling from his cock railing in and out of her. using his core strength nate sat upright, continuing to fuck all of the energy she had right out of her.

her clit was grazing against the material of the sheets, his hands gripped bruises into her soft flesh of her hips, out of his mouth came a string of curses and praises all aimed at her.

fuck this is the best we’ve had

you feel so damn good

cant get enough of you

it got to the point where the feeling if his cock, his hands on her hips now pulling her back onto him since she ran out of energy just from his force alone. nate felt her warm cunt clench around her pussy signaling her orgasm was close.

pulling her hair, he forced her to press her back against his chest. this angle was somehow better, she felt the tip of his cock bruise the spot inside her that made her see stars. the pleasure was almost too much as she began to cry out from the overstimulation and pleasure that nate was giving her.

one of his hands wrapped around her throat causing her head to rest on his shoulder. she moaned and whined, tears falling from her eyes. the other hand wrapped around her torso and two fingers rubbing on her clit.

she moaned praises and thanks to nate for fucking her so damn good. his cock felt so good abusing her pussy like this she was out of her mind in pleasure, lost in the fog of it all. the way his hand was slowly adding pressure to her throat, his hand rubbing on her poor swollen clit, his dick pumping in and out she was bound to give out.

she stuffed one of her hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and nate begged her to cum on his cock. to drench the sheets in her sticky mess. she also pleaded to fill her up, to have her leaking for days on end. she wanted to feel him inside her for a week and she knew she would with the way he fucked her so good.

her body flopped down onto the mattress when the orgasm washed over her, white knuckling the sheets as he fucked her through it. nate ran his hands over her now lightly sweaty back, kissing deeply on her neck as he pulled out. the two were out of breath, he laid down on the mattress next to her. nate went to the bathroom and got a wet washcloth, handing it to her, not really knowing what to do with it.

“forgive me?” he asked, his voice husky as he pulled his briefs back on. she propped herself up on her elbows resting the cloth on her tender thighs.

“maybe, depends on if you stay the night.”

-

she woke up to the sound of lightly whispered curses and nate hitting his head on the closet door. she glanced at the clock, 5:19 am. she had only gotten four hours sleep at that point.

“what’re you doing?” she asked, voice coated in sleep.

“partner called, they arrested the other two guys we’ve been after.” he hustled to get his clothes on and tie his shoes. she rolled her eyes, he’s leaving again. nothing changes. she rolled back over with a heavy sigh and a disappointed heart. “hey- hey, i’ll be back. i need this confession and then we’ll be done.”

no response came. she should’ve known it was going to be like this.

“i’ll bring you breakfast, want pancakes or donuts?”

she rolled back over, looking in his eyes. something was different this time, more gentle. more…emotional. different.

“pancakes.”

-

a/n hehe hope u liked :)

masterlist | feedback

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training II (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

When you opened your eyes, it was dark.

For a moment, you thought that maybe you’d gone blind, but you could just barely make out the shape of your hand in front of your face. There’d even been a split second where your heart stuttered, thinking you were buried in a box or something, but then you’d sat up. You were on a soft surface, and it didn’t take much longer to realize that it was a bed.

You couldn’t see anything, no matter how hard you stared or where you looked. It was all just dark, and with difficulty, you pushed yourself to your feet. Your body felt weighed down, almost like it was filled with sand, and you stood still for a moment, pressing your hand to your head. That gave you pause…and you sniffed.

The smell of blood hit your nose, and your lips parted, eyes widening.

You stumbled back, bumping into a wall, and a loud gasp escaped you. You stared ahead into nothing, eyes watering as you remembered watching your friends die one by one. Pietro was the first to go, dying for something as silly as trying to protect you. Wanda had died for even less, and Michelle… You struggled to breathe, recalling MJ’s last moments and how she used them to push you away.

You pressed your hands to your face, tears wetting your palms, and before you could stop yourself, a loud wailing noise climbed out of your throat. Your knees shook, and you were falling before you realized it. Your forehead touched the floor as you cried, and you wanted to convince yourself that it was all a nightmare.

It had to be.

You had to be still in the car, Pietro behind the wheel as he argued with Wanda, MJ listening to whatever songs she had on her phone. You had to still be asleep, your mind coming up with the most horrific nightmare possible. That had to be the truth, but everything felt too real.

Your skin felt too dirty, the stench of dried blood was too strong, your ankle ached too much. All the signs pointed to otherwise, that this was your reality, and you cried harder. You couldn’t see a thing, didn’t even know where you were, and you didn’t know what to do. Those cops had to have brought you here, and you wondered why.

They’d killed your friends like it was nothing, had talked about their bodies like they were nothing, and it made your chest clench painfully. You didn’t understand why they did that, what was going on, and more importantly…why you? Your friends had been taken from you so violently, and you were still alive, and you didn’t know why.

There was too much going on in your head, and you fought to remember everything that had happened. You remembered the blond one, the scary one, saying something to Peter. Peter was the one who’d looked nice…sweet. He’d been friendly, and at the time, you’d thought he was a little too friendly, but you’d written it off. Now…you wished that you hadn’t.

Are you taking her or not?

That was what he’d said, and the words had only served to confuse you then, but now you understood. He had taken you. Where? Only God knew, but you were fighting with the fact that you were now a statistic. You’d been taken, by cops no less, and that fact only made you cry more. Any chance of you getting out of here seemed laughable because these guys were professionals.

You felt cold, and you knew it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. You peeled your eyes open and kept them open, because every time you closed them, all you saw was your friends. Bloody and lifeless. It made your stomach turn, and you fought the urge to be sick. You didn’t have the strength to return to the bed, and so you remained on the floor, cold and afraid and crying so much it made your throat hurt.

You surmised that you drifted in and out of consciousness, not because you could even relax enough to find sleep, but more so out of exhaustion than anything. Your body had seen and dealt with too much in such a short amount of time that it took it upon itself to try and heal.

The next time you peeled your eyes open, you could see light.

It was only a crack of light, and it looked too far up to make sense. You didn’t even know what you were looking at at first, but then you sat up, and your lips parted. The light was coming from beneath a door…at the top of stairs, and you trembled.

You were in a basement.

You could feel yourself shaking at the realization, and you forced yourself to your feet. You tripped a few times going up the stairs, stumbling to the door, and the sound you made was loud. You banged on it, searching the wood for the handle before frantically pulling and twisting.

“Hello?”

Your voice croaked at first, but the more you yelled, the stronger it became.

“Hello?” you screamed, banging on the door. “Is anyone there?”

When only silence met you, you could feel your eyes watering again, and you squeezed them shut. Your chest twisted painfully, and you wanted to break down again, but you thought about MJ and how much she’d tease you for being so weak. Taking a deep breath, you sniffed and hit the door again, standing this time as you kicked it too.

“Let me out!”

Your arms felt so weak, and there was no telling how long you’d been down here. The door shook from the force of your assault, and you wouldn’t stop hitting it, your vision starting to blur.

“Let me out, let me out,” you shrieked.

Your hands were starting to hurt, and you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. When it became too much, you stopped, falling to the stairs and sitting down. Your chest heaved, and loud choking sounds left your throat as you dropped your head into your hands. You were trying so hard not to panic, but it was hard. You didn’t know where you were nor why this had happened, and you dropped your hands with a frown.

You blinked at the light coming from beneath the door…

…and the way it broke up, now.

It took a moment for you to realize that someone was standing there, shoes in the middle of the door, and you sharply inhaled. You leaned over, doing your best to look underneath, but all you could see was their shoes.

“Hello?” you choked out.

They didn’t reply, and you blinked back tears.

“I don’t… I didn’t do anything,” you told them. “I don’t know why I’m here, but I didn’t do anything.”

Again, silence was all that met you, and you started crying again.

“Please, let me out…”

They started moving away at that, and you cried harder. You didn’t know who they were nor why they pretended not to hear you, and you stared at their shoes. At the way they seemed to hesitate in leaving, and you blinked, your tears halting.

“Peter…?”

The person stopped completely, and you moved closer to the door, frantically trying to reach underneath.

“Peter?” you questioned louder. “Peter, please! Let me out!”

You pushed your fingers underneath the door, wiggling them.

“I won’t say anything, I swear I won’t,” you cried. “Please, just let me out.”

Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, and to your detriment, someone stepped beside Peter. There was a hushed exchange of words before they both walked away, and you were alone again. You let your head drop to the step, harsh sobs leaving you, and that was where you remained.

“Oh dear.”

There was someone standing over you the next time you woke up. A woman. You hadn’t even heard the door open, and when you craned your head, you focused your shaky vision on her. You felt so weak, dirtier than you did the last time you woke up, and with a frown, you realized why. The smell of urine was strong, and again, you wondered how long you’d been down here.

Her brown hair brushed over her shoulders as she leaned down to grab your hands. Her eyes held something like sympathy as she helped you stand, and you winced, regretting the night you’d spent sleeping on the stairs. It took you longer than you cared to admit that a light was on, allowing you to see, and you blinked at it as it hung from the ceiling, a string beside it.

Of course, you wouldn’t have known it was there.

It was dark, and you’d never been here before.

The strange woman helped you down the stairs, slowly and with patience. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her, both relieved and fearful of her presence. She was a woman, yes, but that didn’t guarantee anything. Still, she was kind, and she didn’t say anything about the way you’d soiled yourself. You glanced away, and the action forced you to really take in the basement.

It was nice, but just nice enough to not be considered inhumane. The twin bed was a dark wood and looked like something you’d see at Badcock. There was a large rug on the floor beside it, and a door in front of it that you hadn’t even noticed. The rest of the room was bear with plain white walls. The unknown woman led you to that door, and you watched with wide eyes as she reached for the key around her neck.

When she unlocked it, it revealed a bathroom.

“You’ll need to wash up,” she told you, moving towards the tub and running some water. “Clean yourself very good.”

Her tone and her words had you looking at her again.

“Will I get to leave?”

Your tone was hopeful, and the look she gave you had you deflating. She pressed her lips together, seeming to think over her words carefully.

“This room, maybe. If everything goes well…”

You didn’t understand, and she was helping you peel your clothes off of you before you could voice your confusion. You couldn’t even find it in you to be embarrassed or shy. You’d witnessed your friends dying and had been locked up in some basement for God knows how long. Some woman helping you to undress so that you could clean yourself was the least of your concerns.

You hissed when you sank into the hot water, eyes watering at how quickly it took on a pink hue.

“My name’s Jane,” she eventually told you, helping you scrub.

You looked at her, drinking her in and repeating her name to yourself.

“Jane.”

She nodded, and you looked at the water again.

You had so many questions, but you didn’t know where to start. Why were you here? Why had they killed your friends? Who was she and could you trust her? You decided to focus on the more important one.

“What do you mean I might get to leave this room?”

Jane softly exhaled, running you some more bath water after draining the filthy batch.

“If you want to leave this room, you’ll need to get it together,” she whispered.

Her harsh words didn’t match her soft tone, and your frown deepened. She looked you over with a frown of her own, pulling her lip between her teeth.

“No more of that crying and screaming and banging like you’ve been doing…”

Your eyes widened, and you sat up.

“You heard that?” you asked in a small voice.

“The whole house could hear it,” she answered.

Your embarrassment was taken over by confusion.

The whole house.

You wondered if that was just exaggerated language on her part or if you really were in a house full of people. If the latter was true, you wondered about your chances of escaping, and when you looked up, Jane’s eyes met yours.

“No more of that either.”

She continued before you could open your mouth.

“You’ll be seeing Steve today…”

The mention of the blond cop had you shuddering, and you held back tears.

“…and if he thinks you’re not ready, he’s going to send you right back down here.”

Your hand wrapped around her wrist at that. It wasn’t on purpose, but the thought of spending another day down here had your chest clenching in pain. She softly shushed you, reaching for your hand and gently prying it off of her.

“Hey, hey,” she softly started, taking your hands. “It’s going to be okay. He just… If he thinks you might be a danger to anyone else or if you’ll try to escape the second you step outside, he’s going to leave you down here.”

You hadn’t meant to start crying again, but the whole thing was overwhelming.

You’d been on a nice road trip with your friends, and now you would be trying to appeal yourself to some insane man just so he’d treat you like something a little better than a dog. Jane shushed you again as you wailed, head falling, and you shook your head.

“You have to be good, okay? If you’re good, he’ll let you out, and that…that’s better than being down here…”

It wasn’t appealing to you, and you leaned your forehead against the side of the tub.

“Trust me,” she whispered, stroking your head. “Peter is sweet. He…he’s much nicer than the others.”

At the mention of him, you lifted your head with a frown. You had an inkling of why you were here as you processed her words, holding her gaze, but you fought it. No. You didn’t want to accept that, and you shook your head.

“What does that have to do with me…?”

She sadly tilted her head at you.

“He’ll be good to you.”

You blinked again, more tears kissing your eyes, and you pulled away from her. You could feel your stomach twisting, almost painfully, and you pressed your hands to your mouth. You wanted to ask her plainly why you were here, but you couldn’t find the strength. You were scared that if you opened your mouth, anything left in your stomach would come out.

Jane seemed to read it on your face though.

“Peter chose you,” she quietly continued, resuming in dragging the cloth over your skin. “You’re his, now.”

Your vision swam at that, and you reached for the edge of the tub. More tears fell, and your head spun. He chose you? You were his now? As self-explanatory as the words were, you were having the hardest time making sense of them. It was 2023, and Jane was speaking like it was centuries ago instead. Peter would be good to you? What exactly did that mean when you were a victim of kidnapping?

For the first time since that day, you felt anger flare up, but then you looked at Jane.

Really looked at her.

She was beautiful, no doubt about it, but there was something in her face and eyes that spoke to a life of trauma. There was a dimness in her eyes that told you she didn’t believe what she was saying, but more so she accepted what she was saying. That she accepted the reality that would be yours too, and your face fell.

“Were you chosen too?”

Your question seemed to have taken her by surprise, and even though it took her a long time to answer, her brief silence was answer enough. She nodded just as you both heard the door open, and your eyes widened, jumping at the sound. Jane quickly rose to her feet, and her change in demeanor was evident. She gestured for you to stay, and you watched her swiftly walk out of the bathroom.

“Is she ready?”

You recognized the voice, shrinking in on yourself as Jane replied. When she returned, she had a simple white dress in her hand. She urged you to get out as she drained the tub, quickly pulling the dress over you. As she straightened it, she quietly spoke to you.

“Remember what I said,” she whispered.

When she guided you out of the bathroom, your worst fears were confirmed.

Steve, that intimidating blond, stood just at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t alone, and you weren’t prepared for that. You choked up at the sight of them both, recognizing the brunette as the one who’d killed Wanda. Jane’s hand was on your arm, guiding you, and regretfully keeping you upright. Your vision had started swaying before you knew it, and you fought to look better than you felt.

You couldn’t hold either of their gazes, your own lowering as it focused on the floor.

You heard heavy footsteps near you, and you shook.

None of this felt real. None of it, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You were sure that your face looked like shit with how much you’d been crying, but you didn’t think you could’ve stopped even if you wanted to. The closer he came, the more you shook, and you flinched when his hand roughly gripped your chin. He forced you to look at him, and your lips trembled.

His eyes were so blue and cold, and they didn’t match the faux sweet smile on his pink lips. He studied your face for what felt like too long, drinking you in, and you didn’t know what to think of it when he hummed. His thumb brushed your skin, and disgust rolled in your stomach. These were the same hands that had killed Pietro, and the thought made you want to cry again.

“Peter has good taste,” he finally breathed, straightening and stepping back. “Bring her up.”

You didn’t know how to react to that, but the brunette did, looking at Steve with a deep frown.

“Already? She’s only been down here for three days…”

His words shocked you, and your eyes widened. Three days? It had been three days since…? You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the thought, eyes watering again. No wonder you felt so weak, no wonder you’d soiled yourself, no wonder you felt like you were going even more crazy than you already had when you watched them kill your friends.

Three days.

You swayed at the thought just as the unnamed male continued.

“You left Nat down here for three and a half months.”

He almost seemed to spit the words out, and the knowledge that there was another woman here, another poor unfortunate soul sharing your fate, made you queasy. It really seemed like there was quite literally a whole house of people here, and you tearfully wondered just how many women were here.

Steve turned to him with a wry smile.

“Well, she’s not Nat,” he told him. “She’s weak.”

The words had you wincing…because they were true. You glanced away, unable to stop a few tears from spilling over.

“Another day, and I’m convinced she’ll bite off her own tongue to choke on, and then all of this will have been for nothing.”

By ‘all of this’, he meant the murder of your friends, no doubt.

“Look at her Buck,” the blond chuckled, glancing at you. “She’s shaking.”

He reached out to tap your chin.

“Poor thing. Peter really knows how to pick ‘em,” he mused, dragging his eyes over you, and you hated it. “…because she’s perfect for him.”

He nodded at the brunette, Buck, and the other man came towards you with a dark scarf. You trembled as he tied it over your face, and Jane shushed you when you started crying again.

“Take her upstairs, Jane. Bucky will be right behind you.”

That sounded like more of a threat than a simple statement, and it took a long time for Jane to get you to move your feet.

You ripped the blindfold off, spinning around just as the door shut and locked behind you. You stared at it before reaching out to pull on the handle with no such luck. You could hear Jane’s footsteps fading, and if you listened hard enough, you could hear other feminine voices down the hall mingling with hers.

You took a step back from the door, staring at it with dread before finally turning around.

The room that met you was nice. Not necessarily small, but modest, and it was prettier than any room you’d ever been in. You didn’t grow up with money, and wherever Peter and his…friends lived, they lived well. You bitterly wondered if they earned their living by kidnapping and transporting unsuspecting women. However, if that were true, you wouldn’t have the memory of Wanda and MJ’s lifeless bodies in your mind.

You touched your white dress with trembling fingers, looking around the room with tearful eyes. You were so tired of crying, but you couldn’t stop. None of this made sense, and it seemed every hour you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t a nightmare.

You’d really been kidnapped and given to some man like a gift instead of a person.

Your chest hurt, and with unsteady feet, you moved further into the room. You took note of the way it was furnished, of how homey it felt, and you were reminded of Jane’s words, of how ‘nice’ Peter was compared to the rest. A lot of thought had gone into the room, but it only reminded you of a golden cage. You felt frozen…until your eyes landed on the window.

You ran to it, but disappointment stopped you in your tracks.

The bars on the outside of the window were visible through the opening in the curtains, and you backed up until the back of your legs hit the bed. You didn’t sit so much as collapsed, falling onto the bed with a loud sob. The pretty room became blurry, and you twisted your fingers into the white fabric of your gown.

This couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be.

You had to get out of here, but then you thought about Steve’s words. You recalled the mocking tone of his voice as he called you weak, and the way defeat seemed to surround you at the truth in his words. You thought about Nat, about a woman you had never met, and how she had lasted three and a half months before finally…breaking? Is that what you were? Broken?

Had the vile murder of your friends broken you?

Was that why Steve had waved you off as nothing more than a broken and docile girl perfect for Peter?

You didn’t even know how you’d go about getting out of here, the thought overwhelming you so much, but you had to. You had to get help, and help the other women here, and get justice for your friends. You just… You didn’t know how, and tears ran down your face. Wanda always knew what to do in tough situations, and you desperately wished you could ask her what to do.

…but she was gone.

…and she wasn’t coming back.

That thought had you crawling further onto the bed, laying down and pressing your face into the pillows. Your head started throbbing almost immediately, a sign that you were crying way too much, but it also told you that you needed to eat something. As if someone was reading your mind, you heard a noise, it startled you into silence, and you hurriedly sat up.

You stared at the plate of food that had been slipped under your door, the opening underneath just big enough. You hadn’t noticed it at first, and you hurried towards it, ignoring the food and sticking your face against the opening. You could only see just enough to make out someone lower legs should they walk by. At the moment, the hallway was empty, and you sat back with a frown.

Your eyes landed on the food, unmoved by how good it looked, only picking at it and nibbling. Despite how little food you’d had in the past few days, your stomach just wouldn’t settle. You knew if you wanted to escape, you’d need all the strength you could get, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to eat much, and before you knew it, you were crying again.

You scooted back until your back met the bed, and you leaned your head against it, softly crying into your hands.

[zmediaoutlet]

“I’m starving. You think they’ll let me sell your ass for a Slim Jim?”

“You made that joke last time we were arrested.”

“What, you think a good bit is only good once? I get no respect, no respect.” The last part not much of an impression because Sam presses harder on the bullet wound with the wad of toilet paper and Dean’s voice goes thin and crackly. A clean-ish hole, in through the meaty part of his shoulder and out by his armpit. Could’ve got his heart or a lung but it doesn’t even feel like it cracked the collarbone. Apparently demons are terrible shots. Lucky, Dean had said, swallowing hard and making his voice harder after. Sam didn’t dignify it with a response.

Dean’s trying to get blood off his hand with more TP. It’s thin, awful stuff, shreds against the tacky stain. The chain between the bracelets clinking. “In those Norwegian prisons I bet they get wet wipes, huh?” he says. Sam takes a deep breath through his nose. “Pampered, or whatever. Could go for some pampering.”

“I’m not killing you,” Sam says, “does that count,” and Dean laughs breathy and weird. It must really hurt. He’d be throwing Sam off already, otherwise.

They dragged the body of Henriksen’s old boss out into the main part of the jail. There’s been shouting. A boom that shook the building but no one has told them what it was, exactly. They aren’t currently top priority, despite being such world-class criminals. A break but not much of one, with Dean still bleeding over Sam’s hands. With what’s coming.

“Demons, huh,” Dean says. On the same train of thought when blood’s on the line, as always. He shifts on the shitty jailhouse mattress, gets his bootheels square on the ground. Sam shifts along with him, keeping the slack easy between their manacled ankles. “Better or worse than cops?”

Henriksen’s vicious little grin, telling them they’d never see each other again. Not quite yellow eyes but Sam’s stomach flips. Dean’s fingers slide over his, in the enveloping shadow of Dean’s jacket. Sam’s let his grip go slack.

“Can’t exorcise a cop,” Dean says, answering his own question because Sam feels like he’s going to puke. Taking point, as always. “Gotta be a point in the demons’ favor.”

“How are we gonna get him to believe us,” Sam says.

It’s all he can think. There are demons and there’s this asshole, do-gooder cop, who thinks he’s saving the day from monsters when he doesn’t know what monsters really are. If they had iron and salt and silver and a chance they might make it out. Maybe. Not like this.

“He thinks we’re psycho graverobbing murdering cannibals, Sammy, I’m not sure we’re in the circle of trust,” Dean says. He jostles his shoulder against Sam’s chest, even though that must hurt. “But hey, at least he didn’t guess about—”

“Jesus,” Sam says. Dean grins white in the emergency lights. No, Henriksen didn’t say that, did he. Although he did—about Dad—

“You think if we start making out in here, they’d open the door?” Dean’s fingers slip against his, pressing both their hands harder against his shoulder. He flinches. Still grinning. “Just to pull us apart, anyway. Worth a shot.”

“Shut up,” Sam says. Dean bites his lip, turning his face away. His chin trembles and Sam wants to—lay full length over him, take the next bullet if it comes. Go back in time and exorcise the demon before it could pull its gun, get Henriksen against the bars and get his hands around Henriksen’s neck and force him to hear the truth. That the dark was swarming up around them and if Henriksen didn’t let them go then it was going to take everyone in this station and, worse, it was going to take Dean and there was no chance, not one in the fucking world, that Sam was going to let his brother go without a fight. That it was impossible for that to happen again. Everything in him was solid on that part. That just—there’s no way that was going to happen.

Dean’s knee sags and presses against Sam’s. “Okay, so,” Dean says, chin tipping down. “We’ll take out the demons, save the day. Guess even cops beat demons. And save the making out part for later, huh? Though I could go for some of that surf and turf.”

Sam breathes out. He puts his forehead down to Dean’s shoulder for two seconds, and then sits up straight. There’s more shouting, somewhere past the hall to the holding cells. Sam squeezes his wrist, lets him drop his hand, presses the compress hard and solid against the wound. Dean’s looking straight ahead, steady. A well, somewhere in him, that always seems to have one last drop of relief.

[riality-check]

Contrary to what her felon of a husband started telling her when the honeymoon phase of their relationship ended, Rebecca Munson is not a stupid bitch.

Well, she’s definitely a bitch, but she ain’t stupid. She’s made bad choices - letting herself get pressured into a shotgun wedding at sixteen to a man five years her senior, havin’ a baby at seventeen at home because she couldn’t afford a hospital, and too many failed attempts at sobriety to count don’t look too good on paper - but she ain’t stupid.

She knew the second that the cops came to their house at two in the damn morning to pick up John that he wasn’t comin’ back. She decided then, after ten G-d awful years of living with him, that she wasn’t comin’ back either.

Her family was across state lines and didn’t much like her since the wedding. But Wayne was two towns over and said to her, over and over again, that his door was always open.

(One Fourth of July, probably when Eddie was six or so, before John realized he wasn’t going to have a little football-loving clone and still humored him by playing tag, Wayne was a few beers in and told Rebecca, point blank, that she deserved to be doing so much better.

“But he’s your brother,” she said, pointedly not looking at the can in Wayne’s hand. It was her first try at staying away from that stuff, and she lasted a full two weeks until her next fight with John.

“That’s how I know you could be doin’ better than him,” Wayne said, taking a sip of his beer. “You’re a good woman, Becca. He ain’t a good man.”

Sometimes, she wondered what her life would be like if she listened to him then, if she didn’t need an arrest warrant to convince her of what she knew, deep in her soul, the second she said “I do.”)

So, that’s where she’s standing now. In front of Wayne’s door, hand poised to knock, Eddie at her side with his headphones on and music cranked loud.

“It’s fuckin’ freezin’,” she murmurs before knocking lightly.

“It’s August, Ma,” Eddie says. Not meanly, but not nicely either. He just says it.

Rebecca almost misses when he was little and tried to warm her up by rubbing his baby palms up and down her arms. She doesn’t miss when he had to call an ambulance for her. She definitely misses when he used to call her “Mama.”

She knocks again. Waits. Tries not to shiver because Wayne will know what that means, and she can’t take pity or rage right now.

She’s fucking trying. This is her trying, this is her quitting, this is her, hopefully, staying sober. 

She doesn’t have John, shitty as he was, to fall back on anymore. Eddie needs her, all of her, so she needs to stay present.

The door opens a crack, then fully. Wayne stands there in his pajamas, sipping on a mug of coffee, looking surprised but not quite.

“John got arrested,” Rebecca says.

Eddie just nods, picks up his bag, and walks right on inside.

Wayne raises his eyebrows. “You know what for?”

“Second degree murder.”

“Jesus H. Christ.”

“And I ain’t payin’ for a lawyer for his sorry ass, so he’ll get some court-appointed schmuck, get sent to hell, and hopefully stay there,” she says brightly.

Wayne snorts and holds the door open for her.

His trailer is small, but they make it work. Eddie gets the bedroom, a notion which he puts up a losing fight to, Rebecca takes a cot they set up in the living room, and Wayne takes the couch. She offers to alternate nights with him, but he waves her off and says it’s fine, it’s comfy enough.

If Wayne liked women (Christmas, 1971, spiked eggnog heavy on the spiked all responsible for her knowing that bit of information) she should’ve married him instead.

He tells her, spotting old track marks and the tooth she lost last winter, that she better not bring any of that shit into the house.

It helps, though maybe not as much as it should. It means she has to rely more on chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking the beer Wayne likes than the variety of harder shit she’s been on and off of since she was seventeen.

Once again, fuck you John Munson.

It doesn’t quell the itch. The first few weeks at Wayne’s are hellish, between the sweats and the shaking and the dry heaving.

But all she has to do is look over at the door to Eddie’s room and remind herself that if she fucks up the same way she’s fucked up countless times throughout her boy’s life, then he has no one.

It’s just barely enough. She’s still drinking way more than she should, enough to not remember when or where she falls asleep, but it’s the longest she’s been off crank, so. Small wins.

She gets a job waitressing at the diner next door to the barber and across the street from the hardware store. It pays alright, and the farmers and miners tip her better if she leaves the first two buttons of her blouse undone.

Men.

Eddie ain’t doin’ much better. The kids at his school are mean sons of bitches, the kind that yank on his hair - he’s always liked it long, and Rebecca really doesn’t give a shit what it looks like as long as it’s clean - and slap his things out of his hands and make fun of the books he reads.

But he’s angry at the world, and he doesn’t take shit from anybody. They leave him alone soon enough, after a couple of fights Rebecca doesn’t blame him for getting into. Between the time he bit a boy’s shoulder after he punched Eddie and called him a fag, and the rumors about his music making him a Satanist - ridiculous, it’s just noise - they give him a wide berth.

He says it’s fine, but Rebecca knows. That boy thrives bein’ around people. Loneliness could kill him straight out.

It’s Wayne who keeps him alive. They fight like hell those first few weeks, the worst of it being when Eddie throws the salt shaker at him and screams about him not being his father.

There’s a new shaker, filled up to the brim, on the table the next day. She checks Eddie’s piggy bank while he’s at school and finds it, predictably, empty.

He’s a good kid. G-d knows if she was in his situation, she’d be angry, too.

Wayne tries to be involved. Tries talking about sports and hunting and other things Eddie doesn’t give a rat’s ass about. When Eddie goes on about the books he reads and the games he plays, Wayne’s face just goes blank.

In the end, it’s the music that does it. Rebecca spends weeks smoking and drinking and walking on eggshells only to find Wayne and Eddie on the couch, hunched over an acoustic guitar and listening to Johnny Cash.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s better after that. There are fewer fights. The trailer is filled with music more often than not. Eddie makes friends.

And, after about a year and a half, Rebecca starts lookin’ to leave.

She’d love to stay here, but she can’t. Wayne was kind enough to take her in, but there ain’t no way in hell she and Eddie can stay forever. It’s time for them to get their own place, to get out of Wayne’s hair, to make a real, permanent life somewhere.

She looks around town, but there aren’t many places to rent, and the ones that can be rented are too expensive for her.

Eddie has been begging for her to let him go get a job, but she keeps putting her foot down. He didn’t get to be a kid when he was one, not with him always taking care of her and taking care to stay out of his father’s way, so he gets to be one now.

She owes him that much and more. So much more.

After a few months, she finds it. It’s a little ad in the paper, so small she almost missed it.

Honey Haven. Five miles outside Hawkins, Indiana. A newly planned, family-friendly community. All are welcome!

The number next to “prices as low as” catches her attention. She dials the phone number, and the sweetest lady picks up, patiently answering all her questions.

It sounds too good to be true. Rebecca tells the lady as much, and she, without hesitation, offers a no strings attached visit.

So, she figures, What the hell?

Part 1, part 2

[vintageseawitch]

i'm tired of evil winning so much. it doesn't matter some good things could happen; evil will be there in no time to destroy any decent progress. i'm tired of being terrified i'll lose my rights. i'm tired of being powerless about this & not being able to help others across the globe who have already lost their rights. i'm tired of how useless the UN actually is. i'm tired of the US being a global superhero by being murderous bullies. i'm tired of fascism rising again. i'm tired of WWII being romanticized but now people think that little Austrian artist with the even smaller mustache had some good ideas actually. i'm tired of human rights violations happening & there are zero consequences for it. i'm tired that the majority of humanity as well as currently living flora & fauna will have to pay the price for the greediness of the few. i'm tired of always hearing about a countdown to when we can never reverse climate change while those who are actually the major problem - the US military, big oil, & others - are able to get away with this. i'm tired of the bloated military industrial complex. i'm tired of having less rights than literal corpses. i'm tired of useless CEOs. i'm tired of billionaires. i'm tired of people thinking billionaires are geniuses instead of actually greedy sociopaths who will happily pay you nothing if they could get away with it. i'm tired of people thinking our government wouldn't do that when they actually totally would & have already done it in some capacity. i'm tired of "voting for the lesser of two evils." i'm tired of old, out of touch people being in charge. i'm tired of people being proud of their willful ignorance. i'm tired of the white-washing of history. i'm tired of people not giving a fuck about the environment. i'm tired of people not being able to afford homes when there are more empty houses than there are homeless people. i'm tired of workers labor being exploited so they get paid a time while their bosses get a dollar. i'm tired of learning my generation & younger are the most educated but the most overworked. i'm tired of older generations who had so much handed to them want to make sure someone else doesn't get the same because lead poisoning have made them into sociopathic cowards who refuse to see the truth & will vote against their own interest just to fuck over people they fear & misunderstand. i'm tired of people claiming protesting against genocide means you're antisemitic & should be silenced. i'm tired of book banning/burning. i'm tired of xenophobia when so many of us are descended from illegal immigrants. i'm tired of men still getting upset over a hypothetical question instead of doing some self-reflection. i'm tired of the patriarchy, rampant misogyny, & toxic masculinity. i'm tired of men not thinking anger counts as an emotion. i'm tired of rapists getting away with their crimes because "what about their future" & "what was she wearing" when it's actually not about sex but power instead. i'm tired of "not all men" to silence legitimate points. i'm tired of people who make false claims of being raped not facing any consequences so it's harder for real victims to come forward. i'm tired of being so afraid of being assaulted & getting pregnant with my rapists baby that i took my state of fertility in my own hands because i'm afraid of my government even as my obgyn said not to worry. i'm tired of the christofascist movement that is gaining momentum. i'm tired of project 2025 being a real possibility & people claiming "they wouldn't do that." i'm tired of how openly fascist conservatives are now. i'm tired of people drinking that kool-aid so hard. i'm tired of the bootlicking. i'm tired of cops & their undeserved diplomatic immunity so they can literally commit murder & get away with it. i'm so. fucking. tired. this country is hell & has helped make the world hell. america has never been great. it's just super effective propaganda & brainwashing that has been wildly successful.

i just want hope that doesn't feel delusional. i don't want to give up but i'm so tired.

[robindaydream]

your OCs :)

You sweetie...

Well, Tam is a nonbinary angel who loves to party and fight and fuck. They're probably my most unreservedly heroic character, as well as the kindest and sweetest. They genuinely believe that their life has a plan and a purpose, that what they do has meaning, and that a better world is possible and it's our responsibility to find it. One time they defeated an enemy by teleporting her to the bottom of the ocean.

Alex is a butch aromantic lesbian who ran away from college to become a wrestler because she saw a really violent wrestling match online and it turned her on. She's a perfectionist, high-flying heel who loves to get brutal in the ring. She acts stoic and serious but loves the theatre of wrestling, loves telling stories through a series of blows instead of words. One time she won a ladder match by ignoring the ladder and pummeling her opponent into submission (as arranged in advance of course).

Venture is a little space mouse with a huge sword who was hired to solve a murder and ended up uncovering a galactic conspiracy. She was the sole survivor of a disaster aboard a spaceship when she was an infant, and partly as a result she's very superstitious, using a flipped coin for the purpose of divination when confronted with major decisions. She conducts herself like a knight, wielding both sword and quick wit against her foes with equal skill. She once destroyed a water cooler because she was trying to climb up on top of it (she likes to be tall).

Sylvia is a weirdo from the woods who can read your mind and can't generate her own body heat. If she doesn't take it from others she'll freeze to death from the inside out (but it's okay she got better). She's paranoid and irritable and angry and so fucking scared and she has a gun. She has cool ice powers. Her boyfriend is a dragon. She didn't always have antlers but she does now. One time she impaled a guy with an ice javelin because he was trying to run away and she was trying to help him (he's fine though).

Magna is an alien fugitive who fled from her homeworld and poses as a human on Earth. She spent two years posing as a trans woman to make herself harder to find only to eventually realize she actually was one. She has cool doc ock arms coming out of her back that she can use to teleport things. She's an artist and lives with a bunch of other trans people and gave herself a fursona because she thought she needed one to blend in with humans (it's a wolf). One time she teleported a cop's head off.

[its-been-rose]

Honestly, i always love myself a good messed up slasher. Especially when they work in pairs (Scream, anyone?)

But when it gets to the story of Killer Frequency, I always just keep wanting to pull Marie aside and go "Yoooooou! Put that boy through so much trauma! And then JUMPED?!"

And like in your art, I doubt this is just a spur of the moment thing, like she's been training for this! Imagine as a young child waking up and your mother teaches you to whistle, not because it's a fun little skill but bc you're gonna use it to terrorize then murder people with.

You are compared to a father you've never even met and somewhat care but also don't care for because it's an image presented to you via your mother who you love so much you'd do anything for.

You are taught to use a knife, probably. Something just tells me this isn't their first instance of killing someone, especially Marie. I mean do you remember Mrs. Loomis in Scream 2 when Randy is talking shit and she MAIMS him? That's Marie all the way.

There's just... so much to say about Marie. Like what was she even planning to do after this fact?

THISSS!!! ALL OF THIS!!!!

I don’t think this was the intention, but her jumping off Whistling Point at the end seemed to me like it was something she’d planned the entire time, like she’d planned it to be a murder-suicide from the get go. I think in reality it was probably just a very serendipitous coincidence that’s where her running from the cops took her and she took the easy way out due to the convenience. I’m just a sucker for drama and having her basically planning a 20-year long suicide plan is pretty dark.

But either way, she completely threw Henry to the wolves. Obviously she told him to run but what parent wouldn’t be like “don’t go after him he had nothing to do with it it’s me you want”??? Like girl you’re just gonna orphan your son?? Who looked up to you so?

I do not doubt for a single second that she raised Henry for that night and that night alone. Literally nothing else mattered. She absolutely screwed him over and let herself believe she was doing the right thing. If you think about the game for more than five seconds the real tragedy becomes obvious.

I totally agree with you that Henry did it less because he loved his father and wanted revenge for his death but more because he loved his mother who loved his father and wanted to do right by her. Like some of my own relatives passed away before I was born, and I was told stories about them, but I don’t feel a connection to them at all. I feel connected to how my parents felt about them. Like one of my parents lost their brother (my uncle) but i feel worse for them losing their sibling than i do for myself losing an uncle, if that makes sense. I can definitely see Henry thinking something along the lines of “yeah my dad was killed and it sucks and it’s not fair I never got to meet him, but look what his death did to my mom, it destroyed her, and it’s all their fault she’s been miserable for 19 years”

Yeah, Marie taught him, raised him, to be this. It should be a parent’s worst nightmare for their kid to turn into a monster, but she encouraged it. Completely unfair. And yeah I mean we know from Clive’s tapes that Whistling Night wasn’t their first foray into murder. They’d been chasing down stragglers for a while before then, could have been anywhere from months to weeks to days before.

As for what her plan was after the fact… I don’t think she had one, to be perfectly honest. This was all that mattered. I mean like- she even revealed her identity and the identity of her son ON AIR, so it would be way harder to go into hiding anyway. To me that says she didn’t really plan ahead. Just be perpetually on the run?

[chastainromanova]

PROMPTS FROM BURN NOTICE

*from season 4 of the usa show. adjust as necessary

I mean, bottom line, you might not like it, but we're on the same side.

I'm glad you changed your hiring policies but flattery's not gonna make me work for you.

Fine. I love spending 10 hours in the cargo bay.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened.

My point is: calling the cops was a lot more effective than your genius idea.

I know you feel this is on your shoulders, it's not your job to solve everything.

Well I guess a little Sunday break-in never hurt anyone.

That tap on their phone line is our only lead on their location. Let the static soothe you.

So when we find them we're supposed to do what? Share them?

If you can't make an escape in this, then you deserve to get caught.

What kind of sissy wouldn't sleep with a gun under his pillow anyway?

Did you get a name or a face?

You are never packing the cooler again. Spray cheese and bologna?

Give most counter-intel agents a run for their money.

Don't count on the receptionist offering you coffee while you wait.

We start putting holes in people, it's going to get ugly.

Don't make me regret my decision.

By the time he sees you, he's going to be halfway to prison.

I'm the only best friend he has right now!

Hey, can we take your car? Mine's running on E.

The guy is on the verge of losing his life's work here.

Window's closing super spy, let's go.

It's a dead end if she kills us.

Everybody's favorite murderer makes a special appearance.

You know, if I'm going to spend the afternoon playing bait, I think you should buy me the nicest thing I see.

I wish our phone conversations were as flirty.

There's ice tea in the fridge!

I didn't strap you to that chair so we can talk about me, okay?

Keep the car running, we might have to leave in a hurry.

Not bad considering the guy clearly doesn't skimp on security.

I don't think they're here for the banquet, food and seminars.

This was my idea. I should have gotten to hit him!

This is not a-- I live here.

After a while you just start collecting ghosts.

I think that's still considered a bank robbery.

You should see the other guy.

Ya know, I thought the weird feeling in the air was just the calm before the storm.

No. It’s a disturbance in the force.

You sure we’re safe riding out the storm here?

And before you say “no”, you need to remember that I'm pretty dangerous, too.

Knowing when to walk away is harder than you think.

[lord-rosenth0rne]

Went into FNAF with low expectations and I'm glad I did. Any movie that looks THAT GOOD with legendary puppeteers creating characters that seem to have just been pulled directly from the games will have some huge drawback to it and that was the writing.

Also, when I hear "it's for the fans" coming from Hollywood of all places, I know something's up. Something got Disney-fied in order to have it appeal to a larger crowd that may water down the content.

The actors were great, LOVED Matthew Lillard and his Scream reference, the atmosphere is creepy when it needs to be and the animatronics were just perfect. The cameos and easter eggs made it so nice.

The storytelling sucks. BAD. Bad to the point that I'm going to have to sit down with my mother later after she watches it and SHOW her (because the movie has a problem with telling, not showing) what her granddaughter, my niece is actually in love with that the movie skips out on, that being the horror itself. This is a HORROR franchise and it's gotten soft over its continuation.

The script should have been given to someone who was a fan of the series, particularly the first three games (can't say the books as they seem to have their own premise), AND a horror movie buff. The movie forgets it's a horror movie and doesn't seem to know what it wants to be.

There are a lot of key pieces I would have changed to make it enjoyable for newcomers while simultaneously being for the fans:

-Make this a series and not a movie. Mike should be in jail by the end of the movie with all the stuff they glossed over. Cop gets gravely injured and he and his sister are the only witnesses? With Afton "dead" and locked away, who else could have done it? The woman he's in a custody battle with is lying dead on his floor AND he has a history of violence and drug use? Yeah. No. This needed more time to deal with its issues or be rewritten entirely which I am all for.

-Garrett's disappearance needed to have a DIRECT line to the pizzeria instead of happening in the middle of BFE Nebraska.

-Nix the dream crap. Mike should have been killed the first time he ever fell asleep in that place. Next security guard, please. Though, I will say, if he falls asleep or he loses consciousness, they could have Garrett communicate with him to give a couple of clues on what he needs to do next and warn him to stay away from the animatronics.

-Speaking of animatronics, they're vengeful spirits that should go after anything with a pulse. Or at least any adult with a blindness for faces. While I can excuse how they acted around Abby, I can't excuse it around Mike or Vanessa. They should get the same treatment the idiots who broke into the place did regardless of who they are.

-Utilize the cameras more to keep an air of mystery and horror going. Maybe have Mike chase some kid through the place like Max did only to go look back at the cameras to see that he wasn't chasing anything or if he sees a kid on the cameras, he goes to find them only to find the respective animatronic standing there instead. Lean harder into the paranormal aspect.

-Have Afton's motives actually explained. WHY was he doing this? What was his end goal of killing kids and putting them in suits? Yeah, it can be a simple answer, but not one given in the movie. Also, have him more involved in the plot. Have him physically haunting the place as Springtrap. Having Mike ask him "Why" and him answering "Why not?" would be fucked up as hell and mirror real-life child kidnappings/murders. Grieving families do ask the killers of their loved ones "Why?"

-Nix Vanessa. OG fans remember when we had to piece things together through visuals. Not exposition. Mike should find out about the other disappearances through articles and such, even Garrett's disappearance which he could be trying to solve, and stumbled upon a golden opportunity when he found a Craigslist ad for a Night Guard for the very place his brother went missing. Besides, Vanessa has her own lore that wouldn't be in play until later additions to the franchise. Nothing like finding out the body of a dead child is hiding in one of the animatronics by "injuring" the animatronic to keep up the horror aspect.

-I would have kept the family angle with Mike knowing Afton was his father, he just used "Mike Schmit" to get a job at the place his father is protective over to investigate instead of "Michael Afton", given how common "Schmit" is. Afton himself probably wouldn't recognize him unless face to face.

-Bring in Henry Emily. Give a red herring that maybe HE'S the one behind all of it. Have him investigate at the same time Mike is and neither trust each other with that information, causing them to suspect one another.

You see, this movie would have been ten times better if they used what was already there instead of using an entirely different story with the same characters. They could have used old cliches and made them work.

[zombirps]

🔫/lh tell me abt ur ships pls

NO THIS IS GREAT I CAN ORGANIZE ALL MY SHIPS AND ALSO GET A PICKME UP CAUSE MY BRAIN IS SAD TODAY THANKS ANON

(Ill keep it to specifically just the established ships, if they're super loosey goosey in planning I'll save those for later heheh)

I'll organize them by mun since I actually don't have many with too many people, but I have a lot with a cluster of homies ehehehehhe

AVIS (mycrappyRPsideblog)

Haimon ♡ Cloten (Hunter's Trap)- Both of them are mentally ill, Haimon is a stalker with 2000x more emotional maturity than Cloten, who has emotionally dissociated from her emotions over the last 200 sweeps. He doesn't give up on her even though she pushes him away and I love them <3333

Edolli ♡ Ripley (Hard Knock Life)- Edolli is the abused heiress of a mafia group, cloned by her ancestor to avoid the death of her bloodline. Ripley is the leader of her ancestor's enemy group. Ripley saved her from the group and now they're trying to navigate a healthy relationship now that all secrets are out.

Phylda ♡ Bokura (Haunted Grounds)- Phylda and Bokura is my oldest ship! They were mates when they were much younger (10ish) then Bokura was taken and brainwashed, they're trying to figure out how to live together while overcoming 500+ sweeps of trauma. Im love them, they're the easiest ship because theres a lot of trust and love.

--------------------------------------------

Ven (nethertrolls)[NOTE: we kind of treat ship making like an olympic sport, so I'll only mention the main troll/fleshed out ships- ven and I have like, double digits at this point{I blame the bleach trolls}]

Hoclei ♡ Paeoni (Neighborhood Watch)- Paeoni is an overworked mistreated cop who can read minds- Hoclei is a goodhearted delinquent who struggles to say what she thinks, which usually causes trolls to be scared of her/hate her because she will sometimes be abrasive. Paeoni is the only one who hears her silly cute thoughts and its so fun.

Lixitu ♡ Fenris (Unnamed)- They're actually pretty fresh, Fenris is a vampire that tried eating Lixitu but ofc this weird ass bitch has 20 million contingency plans and had a 'break in case of vampire' blood bag collection so they're chill now. It's gonna be so cute tho,,,

Gneise ♡ Aeiris (Unnamed)- Gneise is a badass natural conservationist protecting her wrigglerhood planet from the climatization of the fleet (they're trying to 'fix' the planet- Gneise doesn't want it fixed, because it's a beautiful wonderland of a bunch of species that ONLY exist on this planet). Aeiris loves her because shes a badass, he's a cool chaos god that walks around pretending he's a cat. NGL Gneise loves him because he's a cat + a short cute dude- she ADORES short cute dudes. Especially if they can kick her ass.

Myroji ♡ Oreion (Unnamed) - Picket fence couple that was ripped away from each other 20+ sweeps ago when Oreion's ancestor paid pirates to kill her. She's now a feral vampire and he's become a information broker combing the planet to find her.

Honorable mentions to 20+ other unnamed ships (Godverse, BleachTrolls, Ven knows. We have an illness)

--------------------------------------------

Xonn (CybernatedBeholder)

Lixitu ♠ Brykna(Kiss and Tell) - Lixitu loves to go to bars and win all the trivia games, because she has photographic memory (and usually the bars will pay for the drinks and food and she's poor as shit). Bree started making the questions harder specifically to trip her up/mess with her, now they shit talk each other.

Cirela ♡ Zavlan(unnamed)

--------------------------------------------

Nort (norts-trolls)

Alcida ♡ Ceroga (Match My Freak) - YanderexYandere, they're a clusterfuck of shit quite frankly. She's been stalking them and murdering their mates, they've been using their natural toxin on her so she never leaves. Neither of them are good trolls and that's exactly where they wanna be.

--------------------------------------------

Malyk (GoldenGuillotines)

Guizan ♡ Vantai(Web of Lies) - Guizan is one of the top legislacerator, working directly under the legislacerator who is the empress' main guy, and their office is currently being investigated by Vantai's group who is checking out the illegal dealings coming out of the office. Secrets come out.

[tealtreesthriving-ttt457]

A retrospect on We Happy Few's main characters: The terrible people fleeing a terrible world, Part 2.

Sally Boyle: Complicit, Insecure, Break Free.

Return to Part 1 Here: https://www.tumblr.com/tealtreesthriving-ttt457/762012485329010688/a-retrospect-on-we-happy-fews-main-characters?source=share

Part 3 Here: https://www.tumblr.com/tealtreesthriving-ttt457/762192381164552193/a-retrospect-on-we-happy-fews-main-characters?source=share

Sally is another of our main characters, with varying involvement in society. Compared to Arthur, a former editor and perpetuator of no bad memories to plague the town, she is deeply complicit in society and part of her character is rooted in that.

Sally Boyle when she was young was near a tomboy, an outsider to stereotypical feminine interests, invested in chemistry and being one of the Two Musketeers with Arthur Hastings, before it all crashed down. Luckily, her talents landed her a job, formerly, at Haworth Labs, and something of a fashion icon, making her very middle-class near rich in this situation.

When we find her now in the game, she's managing her own drug business, in favor of the police, quit Haworth's because of a spat or two with the oligarch and current owner, Anton Verloc, and with child.

To set up the situation, sending children en masse to Germany was very traumatic. So traumatic, the establishment of the conservative Wellington Wells forbade reproduction, the use of cars, news of the war, and trains, and mandated the use of the drug Joy, a mood-brightening substance that fuzzies up the memory with continuous use.

Lack of consumption in drugs results in being forced to take them, by Doctors, who have all but been enforcers of drug taking and occasional human experimental, some characters bet they're medical practice is down the chute.

Breaking laws means getting beat up by the citizens, and the cops, and maybe murdered. The same goes for the ghetto should they be run out.

People who can't take Joy anymore and are cast away are known as Wastrels. People who don't take joy for any reason and participate in society still are Downers. Sally, by definition, is a Downer, and facilitates that type of Behavior, by selling and using Sunshine, an illegal Joy substitute without the bad effects.

And in terms of children, the child is Verloc's, but he does not know, nor should he, because he participates in the society that wants them outlawed.

The story of Sally, even deep into society and playing a bit of a fiddle on it, is how her most important responsibility cannot be held alongside the responsibility in giving the police special drugs, making those drugs, being threatened by Verloc as a competitor and to her life, and how life wants to keep her inside her cage.

This responsibility is to Gwen, her child, and as her story continues, it becomes harder to maintain standing still and being complacent while Gwen is being threatened, and decides to escape.

A poor gameplay elements that reflects this, "totems of neglect", fill her carry weight requirements to overburdened should she not attend to her child daily. It's poor because Gwen needs to be managed like a daily thing, but she literally is a child in a video game, what did we expect.

Sally often self-degrades herself for being a terrible mother. Any frankly, despite the self-pity, she kinda is. What's worse is that she's servicing an old man, General Byng, a war general and oligarch complicit in making Wellington Wells the way it is, as well as deluding his soldiers about the return of the Germans.

While he's her customer, it's needed to know the pattern of how men treat Sally:

Like I mentioned in Part 1, Arthur demeans Sally and blames her, a minor at the time, for shagging his father. He is not aware or internalized the shit power dynamics, and acts harshly to Sally when she probably doesn't need it. He does help her, but him acting like a rash idiot, though Sally keeps secrets, makes him hard to sympathize with.

Anton Verloc hates Sally and sees her as a threat to his batch of drugs, as Joy in flavors Vanilla and Chocolate aren't effective anymore, and Strawberry is left. The bastard is planning a Permanent Solution to permanently brainwash all of Wellington Wells with coconut, so he's the worst. He even tries to sic the police on her, but she feeds them blackberry. Who knows if she hadn't or has been?

General Byng is the worst and most vile offender. He takes advantage of her situation with the child, proposes strongly he would be safe with him, and forces her to comply, his last attempt trying to lock her in his bunker with a stockpile of resources to sit idly by. He's willing to hurt her and beat someone less his own size.

Sally is frail, relies on talents to subdue enemies, is belittled for her perceived malicious promiscuity, and is always to blame when the relationship goes south. She writes lowercase all the time and is a liar like Arthur, but more harshly viewed due to her gender and her interests. She can kill, but she hurts worse inside than outside. In fact, she's an underdog who struggles to make her way to do good and be good, because she doesn't like herself very much, and one factor to make it worse is that;

She wasn't there when her mother did a murder-suicide on her whole family so that the children wouldn't have to take the train to Germany. She's left the survivor, and feels confused about why she is alive, and what should she do.

And maybe, she can do it for someone else. Gwen.

Sally works to realize that she needs to get out, go on crazy missions to help get a boat out of here, subdue the controlling bastard Byng, and finally, get out with Gwen.

In the end, Sally embraces the lack of having any more secrets and gets to fully embrace her child, realizing that all that effort makes her a better mother, for all the sacrifice she did. They'll be the Two Musketeers together.

Sally is one of the better characters in morality and resolution. She asserts her denial of her inferiority and seeks to make it right for someone else. She embraces her talents more and reassess her priorites to get out than participate in a society that demeans her talents, her gender, and her motherhood.

She realizes that she's stronger than she knows, and while she's a terrible person, she uses her crimes to service a greater good for someone else than her own survival in a shitty society.

Next time, we talk about the comic relief with worse crimes under their hefty belt.

Note: "I really like her saying, 'f*ck in a bucket'."

[ladyantiheroine]

What I Didn’t Say

Summary: Renfield tries to protect Y/N, but things get complicated.

Pairing: Renfield x fem!reader

Request by @kpopgirlbtssvt

—————————————————————————

How much longer are going to let this go on, Renfield?

The immortal assistant was seated at cafe across from Y/N, a girl he’d met at a support meeting. She was new in town, new to the group, and Renfield had been entranced by her since they met. Beautiful, intelligent, kind. Not the kind of woman that Renfield expected to be interested in him. 

And yet, she’d invited him out to coffee after their frist group meeting together. Since then, it became their ritual each week. They always ordered the same drinks, sat at the same table beneath the autumn tree by the street.

From the first day, after she told her story to the group, Renfield had considered her as a potential meal for Dracula. She’d recently broken up with a narcissistic partner (an event that brought her to the group) and she had a distant relationship with her family. She was alone in a new city. In other words, she was the right kind of vulnerable and invisible that would make it easy for her to suddenly disappear.

That was several weeks ago. Despite Dracula’s hungry moans, Renfield kept putting off killing Y/N. He wasn’t used to being this resistant. After centuries of murder, he thought eh finally gre immune to empathy or guilt or other things that may hinder such acts. But Y/N had reminded him that despite Dracula’s efforts, Renfield was still very much human deep down.

And to make matters worse, the longer Renfield spent time with Y/N, the harder and harder it was for him to imagine bringing her bloody corpse to his master…

“Robby?”

Y/N’s voice snapped Renfield from his thought. He lifted his face from his lukewarm copy. Y/N gave him a playful smile.

“I don’t know what’s in your coffee, but it can’t be that interesting,” she said.

Y/N giggled and Renfield eased into a smile.

He loved spending time with her.

But how much longer could he let this go on, until something went wrong?

~

Renfield knew there was only two ways this could end. Either Y/N would discover his true intentions, or he would have to abandon their relationship. The former was dangerous, the latter was unthinkable.

But fate made the choice for him.

After weeks, Dracula was getting hungrier. He kept leaving notes and letters around for Renfield to find, tormenting him with reminders of his blood thirst. A few of these letter made it into the hands of Y/N during her many visits to his apartment.

“What the fuck are these?!” Y/N yelled ast him. “You’re fixing to feed me to…some kind of cannibal killer?”

“He’s not a cannibal,” Renfield said. He tried to keep his voice calm, but his temple was sweating and his heart was racing. “I swear, he’s Dracula. The Dracula.”

“Oh, you really think I’m going to believe that?” Y/N snapped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Whatever he is, you were going to feed him to me. That’s all our relationship is? I’m just a lamb to the slaughter to you?”

“Y/N, you’re not,” Renfield said, his voice desperate. “Please, if you just let me explain…”

“I never want to see you again,” Y/N said through blubbering tears. “If I see your face again, I’m calling the cops.”

With that, Renfield watched his only love slam out the door.

~

Renfiled felt like he had shattered to pieces. He imagined himself transformed into a stone statue and slowly cracking into rocky pieces on the ground. Hours passed and with each on he knew Y/N was going further away, only to ever remember him as a cruel liar.

He knew there was no point in winning her back. The best thing to do now was pack his things,c convince Dracula it was time to move locations again, and get as far from her as possible. But he didn’t want her to remember him as someone who didn’t care for her, who merely saw her as meat for the beast. 

So, he wrote her a note.

~

My dearest Y/N,

There’s a good chance you won’t even read this. Perhaps this note may just be a crumpled up note in a waste bin. But on the chance that you are reading this, I want to explain myself to you, if you’ll do me the kindness of listening.

I must begin with the deepest apologies for everything. For my dishonesty, for my endangerment of you, for watsing your time. I know saying this will not absolve me of my actions, but an apology is in order regardless. I should have never filled up your heart only to use it so carelessly.

It’s true. I did indeed to feed you to my master, as I have done with many humans over the centuries. But the longer we spent together, the more I couldn’t bare the thought of it. You’ve reminded me what it is to love, to care for, to worry over again. Such things I’d long believe I couldn’t feel anymore. For that, I owe you a thank you. A thank you for teaching me once again hat it is to be human.

I’m leaving the city with Dracula tonight. I have not told him about you. I will get him as far from you as possible, assure that he never sees you long enough to hurt you. I will allow every other human on earth to die before he can get his claws on you.

I won’t ask for forgiveness. All I ask is that you understand that I will spend eternity keeping this beast away from you. I only hope you can sleep better now.

Always yours, 

Robert Montague Renfield.

~

Y/N’s hand shook as she finished reading the note. She stumbled backwards into a chair in her apartment. It was all too impossible to believe. But it had to be true. Renfield was not the type to lie. He couldn’t if he tried.

If this was all true…

Y/N clenched the note in her fist and dropped her head down. A sob crawled up her throat and her eyes well with tears.

“Robby…” she whimpered. “I’m…”

Then, Y/N jumped when she heard a sudden knock on her door. She sniffled and wiped her eyes dry. The clock on the wall said it was pasr midnight. Who the hell could here at this ungodly hour?

Y/N stood up and approached the door. A warm nighttime breeze greeted her when she opened it up. Along with the wet, coppery scent of fresh blood.

Renfield stood before her, his face and purple sweater dripping with crimson. His face was twisted in sorrow and his eyes dripped with tears. Y/N’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

“Y/N,” Renfield said, his voice shivering. “I…I’m sorry…I…”

He looked like a baby deer that had been struck by a car. Y/N’s heart squelched in her chest. Yes, Renfield was far from normal. Yes, maybe he’d been a victim of a monster that had in turned tried to make him into a monster.

But he was still Robby. Your Robby.

You took Renfield’s face in your hands. You used yout thumbs to wipe away the tears and blood trickling down his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “It’s okay.”

With that, you pressed your lips to his. You tasted the metallic liquid on his face but you didn’t care. You kissed him and he kissed you. And as you did, a single thought passed through Renfield’s head.

I’m free. She’s made me finally, finally free.

[tobiasdrake]

A Comparative Look at First Cases

Okay, before moving on to 3-2, I want to take a moment to go over the First Cases. I feel like I should break this down into categories to make it simpler.

Okay, let's start with the motives. Motives are a lot of fun. They can be captivating and mysterious, with overarching effects that may not be clear at first glance but ultimately compel the murder.

I need to clarify that we're talking about capital-M Motives provided by Monokuma and not necessarily the specific, individual rationale for murder that the killer interpreted from it. That will come up when we talk about killers.

Best Motive: 2-1 - The Missing Past Sometimes simpler can be better than overcomplex, and that makes 1-1's Motive fairly strong. "Your loved ones are in danger; That sucks." Straight to the point. Who will be driven to murder by this?

But 2-1's Motive manages to take that simple Motive and mold it into someting that's intriguingly esoteric. Taking the grand reveal from 1-6 and frontloading it into 2-1's Motive disguises its true menace. It keeps the sequel plot moving without having to retread too much, while still delivering a rationale for murder that nonetheless ends up being every bit as hard-cutting and personal as 1-1's.

Worst Motive: 3-1 - The First Blood Perk I already went on a tirade over this but suffice it to say, the First Blood Perk is one of the most interest-terminating Motives in Danganronpa. A good Motive should make you wonder which character's particular psychology is going to interact with the Motive in a way that moves them to murder. This Motive just makes you wonder how they're going to cop out of it.

Ah, but what's a Motive without the rest of the events leading up to the case? Hanging out, being sociable, and trying to defeat the Mastermind. Let's talk about best build-up.

Best Build-Up: 3-1 - A Plan to Thwart the Mastermind All three build-ups center around two major things: Learning about the Killing Game and our fellow players, and getting to know the character who's about to betray us in a big way: Sayaka, Nagito, and Kaede.

Of the three journeys these sets of characters undergo together, Kaede and Shuichi's plan to undermine (and, secretly, assassinate) the Mastermind is immediately investment-grabbing. And while you can spot signs of Kaede's impending plot if you're observant enough, it's not quite as obvious as Sayaka's meltdown and plot to frame Makoto.

Worst Build-Up: 2-1 - Entering the Neo World Program To be honest, this was a toss-up between 1-1 and 2-1. The time we spend getting to know Nagito hits a lot harder given how much more important of a character he's going to be than Sayaka.

But the clincher for me was actually the opening minutes of the game. One of DR2's biggest reveals is that we're in a simulation, but they front-load the game with a lot of Matrix effects that give away the trick immediately as you begin playing it. The opening minutes are the disappointing 11037 clue of DR2, but made worse for being too obvious about a major endgame reveal.

Best Blackened: 3-1 - Kaede Akamatsu Okay, I know I've spent multiple posts complaining about this and it still does piss me off from the perspective of overarching game design choice. But given how intricate and fascinating her murder is and the way it plays so hard on established character traits and relationships, I'd be remiss not to acknowledge her here.

The best murders are the ones that are rooted in characters. That stem entirely from the way the character's identity, personality, and relationship to other characters interacts with the provided Motive. You should always come away from the killer's identity reveal feeling like it not only was this person, but that it could never have been anyone else. It was always going to be them.

Kaede's well-conceived but poorly-aimed plan to kill the Mastermind is a perfect example of a masterfully executed interplay of personality, motive, means, and opportunity coming together in a way that feels true to character and heartbreaking to discover.

Worst Blackened: 1-1 - Leon Kuwata

It's hard to choose between Teruteru and Leon here, because they're in a similar boat. Teruteru has an interesting motive for his involvement, but one that doesn't get examined until the very end in a bid for last-second sympathy. Saving the killer's interesting character traits for FTEs and a last-second revelation is a recurring problem in Danganronpa.

Conversely, Leon doesn't have much motive at all. He's a strong candidate for least developed character in Danganronpa. He was selected more or less arbitrarily by Sayaka to be her intended victim and then killer. He is so utterly divorced from the events of the crime that she had to scrawl his name on the wall for the sake of creating any reason in the world to suspect him. The only reason he's even here is because he thought she was hot. Which also doesn't get examined much outside his FTEs.

But between the two, I feel like Teruteru has more going for him. His fear for his mom makes for a stronger motive, even if we don't find out about it until the very end. He's only slightly better developed than Leon, but his integral role as team chef also plays into the mystery a bit more strongly than Leon "can chuck things through the grate" Kuwata's did.

Leon is Danganronpa's first attempt at writing a killer. And while his switcheroo with Sayaka is interesting, it nonetheless shows.

Best Victim: 1-1 - Sayaka Maizono This is another one that's very hard to call. Sayaka and Imposter Byakuya are both strong contenders for best victim.

As characters, all three first victims coast on external expectations that you carry into the game with you. Expectations of a Maya Fey type character, expectations of Byakuya Togami, expectations of an Ultimate ??? mystery.

What puts Sayaka above Imposter for me is that ultimately, Imposter never feels like more than an archetype. He's the leader, he's brave, he's valiant, he's selfless... He's, honestly, unlike his namesake in the way he takes charge and cares for others. But he lacks any sort of personal connections to the other characters. When he dies, his cause of death is simply "being too heroic".

Sayaka is more interesting because her character writing is deeply personal. We spend a lot of time not only developing who she is but her relationship to protagonist Makoto. She compares more to Kaede than to Imposter or Rantaro, because we get to watch her make an emotional journey over the course of the setup.

When Byakuya turns up dead, he dies fulfilling both his archetypal identity as the heroic leader and his horror role as the Horror Ace who must be killed in order for the story to begin. But when Sayaka turns up dead, it's a genuine twist... Whether you "knew" she was going to commit a murder or not, it's still shocking to see her show up as a victim.

For the short time we had these characters, Sayaka feels like she managed to do more to concoct an interesting character journey than Imposter or Rantaro did, and that's why I have to give this point to her.

Worst Victim: 3-1 - Rantaro Amami Rantaro's the other major candidate for least developed character in Danganronpa. There are things there to enjoy if you're willing to put in the work to find them but, for the most part, he's just. Sort of. There.

He's a nice guy surrounded by a lot of question marks, some of which will be explained far later in the game and others that won't be explained until post-game bonus modes. Wreathed in similar secrecy to Imposter, but lacking Imposter's captivating exterior intrigue. Rantaro has the energy of a random person who accidentally wandered onto the set and now everyone else has to roll with it.

He has a cool character design and he's nice, but he isn't here to stay and he's written like it. The others have complex and fascinating over-the-top characteristics and Rantaro is nearby, smiling politely. He likes bread.

In a similar fashion to how Nagito was a dark reflection of Makoto, Rantaro is. Like. Hajime, if he wasn't written to be an important character of any kind. You can become invested in him if you put in the work to do so but there are tons of other characters who are right there.

Meanwhile, his involvement in his own death is "Wrong place at the wrong time. Whoopsy-doodle."

Best Use of Other Characters: 3-1 - Miu, Gonta, and Shuichi (plus Kaito's mob) This is an easy win for 3-1. A Danganronpa game features a lot of characters, and the more involved they get to be in the crime both before and after the body is found, the better. 1-1 and 3-1 both offer Makoto and Shuichi a key role of adjacency, making them unsuspecting accomplices while the crime is being concocted and carried out. But between them, Shuichi has a more proactive and complex relationship to the crime taking place, while Makoto's simply a patsy.

On top of that, we have Gonta for a false lead suspect, plus the whole complicating factor of Kaito's mob forming right next door to the crime - one member of whom would become the victim.

And we have Miu, who is intricately woven into the case. Miu created the cameras and knows key information about them that becomes important to the case. She also builds a sky-camera drone which becomes supremely important to unraveling the mystery. None of this could have happened without her; Either the setup of the crime or the resolution of the mystery. V3 uses its large cast to great effect here.

Worst Use of Other Characters: 2-1 - Nagito, Peko, and Ibuki. Plus Mahiru and Mikan's investigative skills.

Nagito is an extremely back-and-forth character. Sometimes he's fascinating and other times he's a cackling ball of plot contrivance, doing ridiculous things for ridiculous reasons and getting away with it because plot contrivance is literally his Talent.

2-1 may be Nagito at his weakest. Though the drawing of straws is a fun bit, Nagito contriving 85% of the mystery and pulling it off through sheer Luck Powers for the sake of setting up Teruteru for the remaining 15% feels forced. Nagito's involvement feels like the personification of "Writer's hand moving pieces into place."

Like, the trick with the blackout seems like it'd be difficult to pull off without any testing but Nagito has luck powers so it doesn't matter. The timing of everything going down seems unlikely but Nagito has luck powers so it doesn't matter. Every over-complex detail was perfectly planned 100% by Nagito and it all went exactly according to plan, because it could only go exactly according to plan, because Nagito has luck powers preventing any unexpected complications from ever arising.

This is a toxic influence on a mystery (though it makes 2-5 fascinating). Mysteries are actually more interesting when they don't go exactly according to one brilliant mastermind's flawless foresight.

Aside from Nagito, we have... Peko being in the bathroom. An entire subplot is dedicated to the mystery of Peko's extended bathroom visit. This is a character who will be revealed to be a deadly assassin next chapter, and her sole contribution to the story prior to that point is a joke about diarrhea embarrassment.

That leaves us with Ibuki, Mikan, and Mahiru who play key roles in the investigation. Ibuki has exact photographic memory of every person who spoke during the blackout (which also feels a bit like plot contrivance), Mahiru's photographs provide critical evidence (that's fine, no notes), and Mikan... Mikan's autopsy is useful (that's good) and also the running joke about her tripping into compromising positions is critical evidence (okay, game).

2-1 suffers from a bad case of 4-D Chess Mastermind syndrome and is more interested in poking fun and ogling its cast than it is in having them do interesting things rooted in their characters and personalities that contribute to the story in interesting ways.

Best Mystery: 2-1 - The Table Stabbing 2-1 and 3-1 have a lot of moving parts. The mechanism of Kaede's trap is complicated, but not so complicated that you can't see how it worked - or, at least, was intended to work. The same is true of Shuichi's own plot to capture the Mastermind, which runs adjacent to and interweaves through Kaede's.

Like Nagito, Teruteru, and Imposter, there are multiple conflicting agendas running through Shuichi, Kaede, and Rantaro's collision - though with the intriguing and emotionally gripping complication that they all wanted the same thing. Meanwhile, 3-1 does not run afoul of All According to Keikaku the way 2-1 does.

If you don't know, on sight, who killed Rantaro? Then 3-1 can be a shocking mystery to try and solve, as no possible candidate seems to fit the bill. But if you do know? Then. Well. It's a lot like 1-1, spinning your wheels and waiting for the game to catch up. Worse, if you happen to be too observant and catch things that they don't want you thinking about until 3-6, 3-1 can be pull-your-hair-out frustrating as the game gaslights you about details that are plain in front of your eyes.

2-1's mystery isn't quite as captivating as 3-1's, but it doesn't suffer from these drawbacks either. It's less likely to have been spoiled for you by hanging out with the key figures while they were setting it all up. There's still a bit of bullshit in how it's carried out, but ultimately it simply presents a clever mystery and asks you to investigate and solve it.

Worst Mystery: 1-1 - Murder in Makoto's Shower 1-1 was the first case in the series, and you can tell. While getting to watch Sayaka undergo her emotional journey and developing her crime alongside Makoto is interesting, it does give away many of the details that are going to be Huge Reveals later down the line.

By the time her body is found, you're already 95% of the way to solving the mystery. And she wrote the remaining 5% on the wall for you to find.

Kaede and Shuichi took a lot of notes from Sayaka and Makoto on how to do something like this without flat-out explaining the plan to the audience as they go along. Though I do think that sometimes simpler cases are better than complex ones, 1-1 suffers tremendously from being too obvious about key details, leaving little to discover during investigation.

So, where does that leave the Case 1s? Tallying up their scores, we have:

DRV3: 13 points DR2: 12 points DR1: 11 points

Neck and neck in quality but V3 takes a slim lead. Featuring the strongest build-up portion, best Blackened, and best use of Side Characters, V3 edges out the competition with careful, creative, and entertaining use of its cast as a whole.

DR2 thrives on its plot details, with a great Motive and the most well-constructed mystery to spin out of the events, but suffers from poor use of its characters as well as a middling killer and victim.

While DR1 coasts by on the strength of the Sayaka twist, having a harder time establishing itself than the sequels that followed in its footsteps and learned from its mistakes.

[badpancakelol]

The One in Which a Time Loop is Fucking Exhausting, Chapter 2: NEVER ENOUGH

Steve tries harder. If he’s faster than the bats, then they can’t get him. If he ducks down for thirty seconds, he doesn’t get grabbed by the tentacle, and can still convince the others that he saw a gate. If he helps Robin and Nancy across the Creel house in the Upside Down, they can make it to the door that hides Vecna before getting choked.

He’s min-maxed his way through the loops, figuring out what wastes time, when he was to wait, how long he needs to wait. There are certain events that happen at certain times (Jason in the gun store, the cops coming to look for the kids, Max being taken) and others that shift and move with him (getting in and out the Upside Down, Nancy being taken, Eddie dying). 

This loop, sixty-four, he dives in the water, waits thirty seconds, comes back up, makes mention of the gate. They all dive down with him, Steve leading, Eddie taking the back, as they break through the pulsating redness that awaits them. 

The only problem with having to wait the thirty seconds, is that the bats are always waiting for them. From all the loops that he’s been through, he hasn’t figured out how not be dragged by the neck, back scraping against the floor of Lover’s Lake in the Upside Down. Steve’s accepted that this is an event that shifts with him.

Nancy and Robin hold down a bat and beat it to death. Eddie stakes one through the heart with a broken oar. And Steve does what he always does, what sparks the conversation, and bites the bat.

See, Steve loves Robin. Truly, he does! She’s been his best friend since working at Scoops, and he wouldn’t trade her for the world. But he’s found that she’s one of the biggest time sinks. As she opens her mouth to ramble about rabies, and Nancy starts to approach him, he rushes them to the gate.

They follow along, frantic, shell shocked, because this is the first time that they’ve seen these bats, and Steve is bleeding all over the fucking floor. He ignores the slick of blood between his toes, and the taste of it in his mouth, and pushes Robin through the gate. She stumbles and splashes, and Steve hopes that she took a breath before that, because he really does not want to be charged for her murder.

Nancy dives in after her without so much of a word, and Steve could kiss her. When all things go to shit, he can count on Nancy Wheeler reading minds. The bats screech. They’re approaching.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s hand behind him. Or, where he thought Eddie’s hand would be. There’s a cold emptiness there, and he wants to cry. He’s never fast enough. No matter how hard he tries.

He turns, slowly, away from the gate. There are scratches on the ground that he knows belongs to Eddie. Steve closes his eyes, just for a moment, and tries not to hear the voice screaming, fading, towards the treeline. 

Okay. Maybe he can’t do this.

— — —

Loop sixty-four: failure, Steve thinks, as he sits by the pool. El didn’t arrive in time, Max was in a coma, and Eddie died early. A real fucking failure, sixty-four. Steve couldn’t even keep Eddie alive for the distraction, and instead that ended in—

He tries not to think of the unskilled guitar playing, the lack of Robin in the Creel house. Steve slips his head under the water, and doesn’t think of Robin’s wide eyes as she sat, slumped, outside the trailer. He doesn’t think of Dustin’s face, his tears, as they un-barricade the doors. He doesn’t think of the empty coffins that had to be buried. He wishes that he never found annoyance in Robin's rambling, because it's all he wants to hear right now.

He breathes deep. Time for loop sixty-five.

— — — 

“Hey, wait!” Steve says. “What are your favourite songs?”

“What?”

“It’s a valid question! What if Vecna tries to take us, and we don’t know what song to play? We didn’t know Nance’s song, and that could have—” He stops. Nancy always gets released. That’s a constant, something he doesn’t have to worry about. But the kids don’t know that and Nancy doesn’t know that so he needs to shut the fuck up.

Steve finds that Robin likes Boys Don’t Cry, that Eddie likes Master of Puppets. Everybody Wants to Rule the World is Nancy’s, and Dustin’s is (of course) Never Ending Story. Max’s is still Running up that Hill, and it turns out that Lucas has started to key onto her too.

The loops pass by, and in the moments of waiting, of sitting in the water for thirty seconds, or driving the hot-wired and stolen house/van, he learns the lyrics and the melodies. In his list of songs, a mixtape to save the world, he’s added Should I Stay or Should I Go for Will and Jonathan, and Every Breath You Take for El and Mike.

(“And what’s yours, Stevie?” Eddie asked. “We’ve all had our little kumabaya, so now it’s your turn.”

Steve wants to say that it doesn’t matter. That if he’s going to be taken, to be snapped apart, that it doesn’t matter. Because his deaths don’t stick, so why even bother trying to save him, when he can just try again from the start? 

At first, he gives a bullshit song. But the loops hadn’t made him good at lying, and Robin sees right through him. She doesn’t say it, just raises her eyebrow pointedly, and waits.

He admits that Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) is his song. Robin stops for a moment, as if something has clicked in her brain, and Max has one headphone off her ear to nod along to his justification. Something along the lines of who doesn’t like ABBA? and It’s a good song!

And Eddie? He’s staring at his hands as if the world has just been ripped apart (not so funny to make that comparison, in hindsight, Steve thinks), but Steve has already steeled himself to learning lyrics and melodies that swirl around his brain, following the fingers on a guitar).

— — — 

Once, when they’re in the woods, they switch partners. Eddie and Robin trail behind, and Steve is with Nancy. They’re talking about the future, and it hits Steve that he might just love her. He knows that she always goes back to Jonathan (a constant, his mind supplies), but he thinks, selfishly, that he’s allowed to admit this to himself, to her. 

It’s not like this loop is even going to stick.

“Nance, I think I still love you.” 

There’s nothing, for a beat. And then another. And another.

The Upside Down is silent, but not this silent, and he almost wishes that he was back at the pool, that two days would pass so that the loop would finally reset, and he could pretend that he never said that because what the fuck that was awkward.

“Steve.” 

He’s kept walking as if he hasn’t just dropped a dumb amount of emotional turmoil (three years worth, at least. More, if the loops count towards it) onto her. He hums and and doesn’t turn his head because this loop needed to be over.

“Steve, can you just look at me?” It’s not said unkindly. But she’s frustrated and tired, and covered in water and bat blood, and Steve is ignoring her and oh god even if she did like him back, he was being a total dickhole wasn’t he?

Steve turns and she’s standing there, hand on her hip, eyebrows furrowed. He knows what comes next, and he’s never even looped this conversation before.

“I don’t think we would have worked out, anyways,” Steve interrupts, before she can say it again. Before she admits that she never loved him, that they were just bullshit, and nothing more. “Just, you know, if we’re going to die tonight, I want you to know that I love you.”

He catches Robin’s eye behind him and smiles. Fucking Christ. Really had to put his foot in his mouth there, huh? But Nancy is looking at him different, as if he’s just gifted her a crucial piece of himself in the woods tonight. 

“Do you love me like you love Robin?” She asks.

It’s on loop seventy-two that he realises that he still loves Nancy Wheeler. It’s on loop seventy-two that he realises he isn’t in love with her. The days repeat the same, and nothing changes, and Hawkins is split into pieces, and people are dying, and Steve has realised that he loves Nancy like he loves Robin.

— — — 

Steve tries something different, once. He tries to change things from the start, from before he jumps out the boat. His shoes stay tied, and his jumper stays on, and Robin is clutching at the walkie. Nancy is looking at Steve, but he is making sure to look anywhere but her.

For a moment, he thinks that this is all it will take. That everything would be solved with a little cowardice.

Before he knows it, he’s been handed Eddie’s vest, slipping it on his shoulders, and the leather jacket is shucked off and thrown to the floor. He dives more gracefully than Steve would have thought. This time, he sits with the girls on the boat, as Nancy is shooting daggers his way, as Robin is holding his hand, as they count.

It hits thirty seconds and Steve knows that he’s made a mistake. He knows where the gate is, what to look for, how to be fast. Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s getting into, and now thirty seconds has passed and there’s no sign of him.

But that’s fine! That’s all good. It took pre-loop Steve one minute (maybe more) to find the gate and resurface, it just means that Eddie might get snatched and they might switch places with the bat attack and oh fuck he fucking forgot about the bat attack.

The sound of his foot tapping against the floor of the boat is probably getting on the nerves of Robin, but as two minutes pass and Eddie doesn’t surface, he makes the decision to dive.

Once he breaches the gate, slams into the floor of the Upside Down, he isn’t met with Eddie. He’s up on his feet before the bats even get close, and he jumps right back out, and that’s when he see him.

Tangled in the underbrush of the ocean, eyes wide and unseeing, floats Eddie. His hands are clasped around his throat, and Steve wants to vomit. He can feel the burning of regret and shame and guilt because why did he have to wait to dive? Steve should have just gone. What would changing the diver achieve? What the fuck did he think he was going to achieve by being a coward? 

When he resurfaces without Eddie, he gets about three words in before he’s yanked back down by a tentacle.

— — —

The next loop, he dives straight into the gate. He doesn’t wait the thirty seconds to convince everyone without being grabbed, and he goes straight through. Steve realises that the bats patrol the gates, and when he deviated from the times he had already figured out, he got hurt.

It’s the shortest loop, is all he can think. It doesn’t hurt more than normal, even though it probably should. He’s used to being dragged, and being eaten, and the feeling of teeth sinking into his skin, but it just lasts so much longer this time.

His vision fades in and out, and he vaguely registers the feeling of denim underneath his head, the whispering of his name, someone holding his hand. Steve thinks he feels rain on his face, but he’s never seen the weather change in the Upside Down.

— — — 

He dubs it The Shortest Loop. Maybe it’s because he’s started to lose count of the numbers, but he knows that diving straight through leads to imminent death, and that only raises more questions.

Steve makes a list in his mind of Things He Knows For Sure. It starts with the basics, of who always dies or gets hurt, who always lives. After that comes the horrible realisation that accompanies The Shortest Loop: Steve is not invincible. And then that spirals into more questions and more speculation, and he has to right himself again. Things He Knows For Sure. He can do that.

The loop starts as he unties his first shoe on the boat at Lover’s Lake. It never starts earlier, it never starts later.

Steve is not invincible, and he still feels pain.

Eddie always dies. 

The loop ends as he swims in his pool, two days after the battle. 

He pauses. The Shortest Loop proved that he wasn’t invincible, and that the loop didn’t end at the pool. Steve wracks his brain for the answer, and finds it quicker than he would have thought. 

The pool, two days after, where he always loops, is the threshold. He can’t go past that point until he fixes everything. There’s nothing past the events of the pool, because he hasn’t fixed things.

The loop starts on the boat at Lover’s Lake, so something must happen in the few moments there that are vital to making sure everyone lives.

If he dies early, the loop resets. 

(This one he finds interesting. And if the next loop consists of him dying early to test his theory, he finds solace in the fact that nobody will remember watching him die).

— — — 

Somewhere between the death and the…death, Steve realises that he might not be so straight. As he’s walking through the Upside Down, he notices the similarities between the women he’s had a crush on (headstrong, stubborn, sarcastic, could beat him the fuck up) and applies them to guys that he’s been maybe a bit confused about.

The first loop he dedicates to these thoughts, is filled with imagery of the boys high school locker rooms and the lack of privacy. He can’t pinpoint anyone there, though, until he gets out of the Upside Down, falling through the gate in Eddie’s trailer, and he looks at Max.

The second loop, he’s so lost in his thoughts of Billy Hargrove and the maybe-crush that he had on him before (and maybe, embarrassingly, even after) he smashed a plate over his head, that he almost misses the way that Eddie leans into his personal space and talks at him.

Steve thinks he did an alright job at pretending he wasn’t just daydreaming about a guy that quite literally gave him an A-grade concussion (and wow, he is going to shake off the reminder of being called pretty boy because— nope. Not now. Not uncovering that).

“You alright up there, Stevie? Shouldn’t be thinking so hard, might strain something.” Eddie says with that dumb fucking smirk and Steve is—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Steve begrudgingly adds curly hair to the list, and then promptly realises that he’s had a crush on every person he’s walking through the Upside Down with.

— — — 

Eddie is smiling at him again, from the driver’s seat, calling him a stupid pet name that he loves, and Steve realises that he (maybe) wants to kiss him. Somewhere between the loops he speedruns a sexuality crisis, figures out that he might have a little tiny crush on Eddie Munson.

But Eddie doesn’t know what Steve’s favourite song is, or that he’s jealous of him, too, or that he wants to co-parent Dustin with him, that he dies. He doesn’t know that Steve knows Master of Puppets from memory, or that he’s memorised the patches on his vest.

If he shifts a tiny bit closer than usual, stays back as the rest of the gang go into the gun shop (“And what if we need a quick getaway? You really want Eddie to drive?”), and talks to Eddie for as long as he can, well. 

Nobody’s gonna remember that but Steve.

[fenic-the-clown]

DARK CARNIVAL LORE EPISODE #2 -EMPIRE BUILT OF FUN AND MURDER

It had been a straight year since the creation of the carnival, they practiced their acts and went over a potential schedule the only thing they had to do now was make money the good old fashioned way....Crime, they started small with night muggings then it came to shoplifting and then stick-ups it got to the point where the law would patrol the streets more often making it harder for the freaks to get money so Fenic gathered her lieutenants and they spent 4 long hours planning a long stretch of heists to pull off using their decently sized group all at once. Their first target was a measly gas station just up the road, she gathered up 10 clowns and Reaver and set off in that now painted over armored truck and smashed through the entrance of that backwater town gas station they busted out the dolly and snatched the ATM and even snatched the register meanwhile the cashier had just walked out of the restroom dumbfounded "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" he shouted all the while laughter from Fenic and her clowns filled the building, before the poor worker could call the cops Reaver had grabbed him, tied him up and locked him in the restroom, by the time she got back Fenic's clowns had just finished pumping gas all over the store Fenic held a lighter flicking the flame on and off eager to set this place ablaze.

Reaver gave her the thumbs up Fenic's smile grew wild Reaver called for the clowns to get back in the truck she got behind the wheel and Fenner lit the place ablaze and as they drove off the gaspumps exploded marking they had been there, the law showed up 10 minutes later confused and angry meanwhile the clowns pulled up to their second hit a grocery store, Reaver didnt exactly want to hold an entire store hostage knowing it was a bad idea she had to convince Fenic to skip over it and head for the rear end and just smash through into the warehouse and take what they could, Fenic considered it knowing food was also important especially for a growing family of freaks and clowns she figured sure what the hell and they smashed through grabbed what they could carry and fled back to the Carnival tucked away deep within what they called Dead-clown's swamp a name i will get into later.

They spent the next few weeks once again doing minor crimes and hits until one evening some folks were sighted in the swamp but thats a story for another time.

END OF EPISODE 2