#too much like that twilight zone episode | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lesservillain · 5 months ago

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inmate!eddie munson x reader

cw: SMUT, henry creel is your ex, a threat of violence, divorce talk, baby talks

July 26th, 1996

“It’s been a whole year,” you turn the radio down to better get Eddie’s attention, “we should go out or something! I know everyone was busy tonight, but let me take you to like Enzo’s. Or Benny’s even.”

Eddie leaned for the knob, turning the radio up again. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he yells over the music, banging his head around and tapping his legs along with the beat. “All I need to celebrate is you and whatever that new little number is that you’re hiding under those clothes.”

You turn to him, cheeks feeling hot as you’ve been caught. The smug look on his face annoyed you, “How do you know I’m wearing something new?”

He hums with a smirk. “I saw your bra strap when you were messing with it earlier,” he says as if it was obvious, “I know what your bras look like, didn’t recognize it.”

“You’re insane,” you laugh as you pull into Steve’s empty driveway.

“Hey, not insane, just very observant of the things that are important to me,” he unbuckles his seatbelt, hoping out of the car and trotting over to your side to open your door for you. It was one of your favorite quirks of his, especially because the looks on peoples faces in public when a rough, six foot tall man covered in tattoos opens the driver door for his girlfriend are priceless.

As you start walking to the front door you notice Eddie isn’t behind you, still standing next to the car with an unreadable expression on his face. Normally it wouldn’t bother you since he spaces out every once and a while, mostly when he’s nervous or upset you’ve come to find. But, he’s been acting like this for the last couple of days and it’s starting to concern you.

Your morning drives to drop him off at work have been quiet compared to the usual lively talks you two have. He’s also been staying at work later, calling you to pick him up close to sundown as the summer has gone on. One night he told you he was too tired for you to come over and was going to have Steve pick him up. When you tried to bring it up, he just brushed it off saying that he was just tired from repairing the A/Cs for half of Hawkins cars.

“Eddie?” You ask gently.

He looks at you for a brief moment, eyes barely meeting yours before he starts walking down the driveway. “G-go ahead, I’m gonna grab the mail.”

“Okaaaay,” you say to yourself.

When you enter the Harrington residence, you find it to be dead quiet, which is to be expected since Robin and Steve both had plans for tonight. But, what struck you as odd was that they had left several lights on…

Eddie came through the door a few moments later, his full attention on the stack of mail he’s flipping through.

“Anything good,” you joke, unsure why he’s so laser focused on junk mail. He walks past you, setting all but one envelope on the counter.

“Oh, uh, no-,” his voice is shakey, and you can tell his breathing is off.

“Hey are you-”

“Hey, look at this!” He waves the envelope in his hand, finally giving you his attention. “This says it’s to ‘Mrs.Munson,’ isn’t that weird?”

You reel back, head shaking at the confusion. “Eddie, I thought you said your mom passed? Why would she get mail here?”

He shook his head, “No, it can’t be for her. My mom and dad never got married, so this wouldn’t be for her anyway.”

“What the hell?” You’re totally confused now, “Open it and see what it says?”

He nods, taking particularly good care not to rip the envelope too much. You feel like you’re in an episode of the twilight zone between the letter and his odd behavior today. He pulls out the contents of the envelope, which looks like a single folded piece of notebook paper. He opens it, and you can clearly see the shaking in his hands now. You’re suddenly hit with a wave of realization.

“Eddie, is that from your dad?” You ask, placing a hand on his arm. He won't even look at you, he just hands you the paper for you to read.

The first thing you see is your name.

“What the-”

“Please read it.”

You look at him, but he refuses to make eye contact, body shifting with a nervousness you’ve never seen before with him. When you look at the paper again, you recognize the sloppy handwriting.

Hi, sweetheart. You’re probably really confused right now reading this, and I know I gotta be a nervous wreck right now as I watch you. After a year of spending almost every day with me you’d probably agree that I’m not afraid to say whatever I’m thinking out loud. But, I wanted to go back to our roots for this.

There are times where I’ve wished things were different. Where I could have the time that I lost in that jail cell back. I just wanted to do something for Wayne, but I would have rather had those years to spend with him instead. I missed out on a lot with the kids, and I was sure that the CC boys were gonna kick me out for ruining our chance to make it big.

But if there’s one thing I can say made it worth it was you. You showed me that I can still be loved after all that I’ve been through. You didn’t know me before, but you put everything you believed in aside to give me a chance and I don’t think I could ever express how much that means to me. But I want you to give me the opportunity to try for the rest of our lives. Sweetheart, will you marry me?

As you read that last sentence, you notice your body starts to shake. Nervously, you lift your eyes from the paper, and in the time you were reading Eddie had managed to get down on one knee in front of you.

“Oh my god,” it comes out shakey with a nervous laugh. You have to wipe the tears away as they cloud your vision to admire the ring he’s presented to you. The two of you have never talked about rings before, and yet he managed to pick the perfect one.

Your teary eyes meet his. Those big, chocolate buttons look at your full of hope. It makes your knees weak. You shake your head, “Yes, Eddie. Holy shit, yes.” You let yourself fall into him, arms wrapping around his neck. He squeezes you tight, and you can feel the air leave his lungs as he sighs in relief.

Time feels like it’s still in that moment. Since day one Eddie has made you feel more loved than you ever have in your life. It’s not that you never imagined a life married to Eddie, quite the contrary. You wish you had a dollar for every night that you’ve counted the freckles on his face, wishing that you’d been doing this with him instead of laying back to back with your husband for nearly 10 years. But, the two of you hadn’t talked about getting married. Not seriously that is. He would joke at home, calling you his wife, “Mrs.Munson”,“baby momma,” the latter you thought was because of how much of The Maury Show you two watched together on your days off. Now it felt like a serious conversation you would need to have, a pin to later be pulled.

The sudden sound of the shades moving over the sliding door pulled you out of the moment, and you realize the door was slightly opened. Then, a loud voice from the backyard yells, “GUYS I’M PRETTY SURE SHE SAID YES!” Followed by a symphony of cheers and whistles. When you pull away from Eddie, he’s beaming so bright it’s blinding. And suddenly the sliding door is pushed open and your friends begin pouring in, cheering and congratulating as they enter. Eddie stands as everyone piles in, pulling you up with him. The train of embraces begins as Robin clamps you in with a bear hug. Steve joins in, wrapping the both of you in a big embrace filled with giggles.

You look over and see Eddie and Wayne hugging it out. Wayne’s patting his back, laughing about something Eddie must have said. The kids and his band boys stand around them waiting for their turn. When Robin and Steve finally let you breathe again, Max and Jane are next to congratulate you.

Max sticks out her own hand, showing you a ring on her finger. “Lucas asked me a couple months ago,” she gushed. You grabbed her hand and admired the ring, it wasn’t over the top, very subtle to fit her personality. “I couldn’t tell you though, Eddie was too nervous that he wouldn’t be able to hold off asking if you knew.”

“Oh my god, Max, that’s amazing,” you pulled her in again, swaying her side by side excitedly. You looked over to Lucas, giving him a cheesy thumbs up that made him blush and shake his head.

Next is Nancy and Elanor, with Jonathan standing just behind them. Nancy’s belly pushes into you as she pulls you in for a tight hug, Elanor wrapping her arms around you from the opposite side.

Then it was Wayne’s turn for hugs next, Eddie finally letting him go after giving him a “Let me go boy, gotta congratulate the newest Munson!” When he pulls away, he leaves one arm around you in a half hug and leans in close, but still speaking loud enough for Eddie to hear. “Listen, if you change your mind let me know, I’ll distract him long enough for you to run.”

“Hey!” Eddie shouted over his friends, “Don’t give her any ideas over there, old man!”

After everyone finished making their rounds, the party migrated outside. Sitting around the fire, Eddie kept you planted in his lap, arms wrapped around you tight. While you’re talking, you realize that everyone had managed to flawlessly pull one over on you. Not a single person even gave you the slightest idea what was happening today.

“You don’t remember us looking at jewelry at the mall?” Nancy laughed.

“Nance, that was like, what, 5 months ago?” You shook your head in disbelief, “I barely remember saying anything about what I like!”

“You didn’t have to,” she said with her arms crossed over her bump, “I just watched what you looked at, paid attention to what you scrunched up your nose to and what made your eyes go wide. Then, I reported back to Eddie and let him do the rest.” She nodded to Eddie, who looked bashful at the admission of his friend.

“I picked it out on my own, though,” he said defensively. “Well, Lucas was there, but that was a coincidence.”

You just shook your head, leaning in to plant a kiss on his chapped lips. The whole night your head was swirling with excitement. There was the nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you what it was going to take for the two of you to make getting married possible, but you let yourself worry about that later. Tonight was about you and Eddie, and you made sure to let him know how much you were grateful for him.

“Ooooooh god —SHIT, fuck babe that mouth is-“

Pulling off of him with a pop, you roll your hand around his head and lick from base to tip, making his whole body shudder above you. His grip on your head only gets tighter as you let him sink as far into your mouth as you can handle. Taking his hands in yours, you place them on the side of your head, and when you look up into his eyes you can see his pupils swallow up the remaining brown, leaving two black orbs looking down at you.

Everything with Eddie was so different, but the sex was on a completely different level for you. With him, sex didn’t feel calculated or like a chore. He was so giving all of the time, which took a while for you to get used to when you had gone so long measuring your worth based on being a pleaser. Once when Eddie ate you out and came in his pants, he was embarrassed, sure, but you had almost cried because you didn’t feel like you had deserved how good he made you feel. He wasn’t having that, though, making sure to let you know at every opportunity he could that just being with you was enough for him.

“Fuuuuuuuck baby~ God your pretty mouth feels amazing,” he pushes himself all the way to the back of your throat, holding it for a moment. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes. His hands shift, one settling under your chin and the other gripping the top of your head. He slowly eased out, letting you take no more than a second to breathe before he starts bullying your throat again.

Drool is dripping down your chin, cheeks hollowing around him as he trusts. He uses his grip to pull you forward gently, bending you at the waist. Fully nestled in your throat again, Eddie bends down to grab a handful of your ass, smacking it to watch the recoil. You moan at the feeling, and his cock twitches in response.

“Alright, gotta get you up here now or else I’m gonna bust,” he says as he pulls out of you abruptly, lifting you up from under your arms and tossing you into the bed. You eye him giddily as he tore the rest of his clothes off with reckless abandon, squealing when he pounces on you. Hot and heavy, his hands are all over your body, your fingers tangling in his grown out hair. You know what his next move is going to be, but before he can begin his descent you hold him in place.

“Not, tonight” - kiss - “need you.” ne of your hands snakes down gripping his length, rubbing the tip against your aching clit, your body jumping at the feeling. His head rolls back, any protest dying on his tongue.

“Shit, okay, anything you want, baby girl.” When he takes over for you, there’s a sudden tension as he lines himself with your entrance. He looks at you, and you look at him. Something about the heat of the moment that makes you want to give in to carnal desires, but before he can make a move you lean over, opening the drawer and pulling out the foil. You don’t miss the tight lipped smile he makes as you open it, but when your hands are on him as you slide the condom on, he seems to forget his qualms.

When he finally sinks into you, he doesn’t give you much warning before he’s going at the same brutal pace he had on your throat. “I’m never gonna get used to how good you feel,” the praises fall from his lips, each one stoking the flames inside you. Adding his thumb to your clit has you gasping, orgasm washing over you and leaving you seeing stars.

The chorus of curses coming from Eddie paired with sloppy thrusts signaled his own release. He pulls out, throwing the condom away and flopping boneless beside you, face planting into the pillow. You laugh at his goofiness, still coming down from your own high with hearts in your eyes. Hearts for your fiancé.

You sighed dreamily, taking one if his curls between your fingers, longer now in the year you’ve spent together. His head turned slightly, one eye peeking out looking at your hand. He stared for a moment, until he suddenly snapped his mouth at you, pretending to bite at your fingers. You pulled back your hand and burst into a fit of giggles. He took the opportunity to roll into you, acting like a monster and “attacking” your face with kisses.

“Stoooop you’re tickling me,” you say as you try to push him away. You have to pry his arms off of you so you can climb out of the bed, legs wobbling as you make your way to the bathroom. He reaches out to smack your ass as you do, you flip him off in return.

When you came back to the bedroom Eddie had his pajama pants back on, and was sitting up in the bed with a look on his face that made you worry.

“What’s wrong,” you question, his head snapping up to you like you’d scared him. He shook his head innocently.

“Nothing’s wrong, Sweetheart,” he stuck his arms out in your direction, making fun of the needy way you beckon him to bed most nights. You weren’t falling for it.

“Edward James Munson, don’t lie to me,” your hands are on your hips, standing naked in the doorway. He gulps at the use of his full name. You’re not really sure how to decipher that reaction with the way his body straightened, but that’s something you’d save in your mind for later.

“It’s nothing,” he exhales, shoulders falling, “I just figured, ya know, with us getting married now that we, I don’t know, we would maybe stop with the, uh, condoms…” His voice trails off at the end but you still heard him loud and clear. Grabbing Eddie’s shirt he had tossed aside at the beginning of the night, you climbed into the bed next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He returned the sentiment, kissing your temple before placing his chin on top of your head. “I’m sorry, if it's not something you’re ready for-“

“No, you’re right,” you take his hand and squeeze, “I really only wanted to use them for precaution sake. Not that I thought you were dirty or anything. And I got tested after I found out Henry was cheating, so I knew I was clean, too. It’s — I just figured it was the right thing to do? Right?”

Eddie wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, I think you miss understood. I’m not offended that you want to use condoms, I promise. I was more so talking about…” he shifts a bit, “I meant like, you know, trying for a b-baby.”

A cold chill makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You knew it was coming, knew that you’d have to pull that pin, but you weren’t expecting it to be tonight, not so soon.

Your silence makes Eddie even more nervous, “I mean, only if you want to have kids. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just, you know, with me turning thirty one, I thought that sooner would be better than later...”

Eddie bringing up his age only reminded your own clock was ticking, too. But, even though your clock ticks, the hands don't move.

It was something that you had to face by yourself for a long time, since Henry didn’t seem to feel the need to comfort you, rather ridicule you for your inability to do the “one thing you were meant to do” according to him. When you finally did get pregnant, only for it to end too soon, Henry only made you feel worse.

After a while you convinced yourself to stop caring.

Now you feel like maybe it never happened for a reason, rationalizing that your body was just protecting you from being permanently attached to the bastard. Thinking that way helped heal some of the hurt, but deep down you knew something had to be wrong with you.

“Eddie, why do you think Henry and I never had any kids?”

He stills for a moment, unable to see his face to gauge his emotions. When he responds, his voice has a hint of uncertainty.

“Uh, I honestly didn’t really think about it. I try not to think about you with anyone else, like, ever if I’m being honest.” You gave him a slap on the leg, making him turn his lower half away from you playfully. “If I had to guess, it’s got something to do with him. You like kids way too much for it to have been a you problem.”

Your lip wobbles, because he’s not wrong. You became a teacher for a reason, and you’ve enjoyed the times you’ve gotten to spend with your nephews and Nancy’s daughter. It only makes the lump in your throat feel thicker when you realize you have to say the next words out loud.

“Eddie,” his name comes out strained, “I don’t think I can have kids.”

And then the dam breaks. Sobs wrack your body, both with tears of sorrow and a sense of catharsis as you can finally come to terms with what you’ve been harboring inside for so long. But the tears aren’t all for you, but for Eddie, too. Tears of guilt, knowing that you were broken, hoping that maybe he didn’t want kids and it would be a non-issue. But that’s not fair. You should have brought it up sooner. Would he even want to be with you if you couldn’t have his kids? Would he just look for someone else, too?

Eddie is immediately in comfort mode, pulling you into him more as he lets you cling to him, chest wetting with the tears falling from your eyes. He doesn’t push you to stop, just rocks with you as you let out your grief.

When you finally start to calm down, he’s pulling you away so he can look at you, thumbs wiping away the tears that still sit on your cheeks. He tells you to take some deep breaths, feeling better once you do.

“I hope those tears aren't from you thinking I’d be upset or something,” he said, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. “Because I’m not, and I hope I didn’t come off that way-“

“No! God, no Eddie,” you say shaking your head, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms, “no, I just, I mean— I want to be able to give you kids, if you want them. Really bad, actually. But it’s not a matter of wanting, it’s a literal “I don’t think I can” thing. I only ever got pregnant one time our entire marriage and I ended up miscarrying…“

“Oh my god, that’s terrible,” his big eyes are filled with sympathy for you. “Nance and Jonathan had one a couple months before she got pregnant with Ellie. Nancy was a wreck, and I should have been there for her. But it happened the same week as Wayne’s heart attack, and I couldn’t leave him. It was a cluster fuck of a week.”

You were shocked to hear about Nancy. You’d become pretty close in the last year but she’d never brought it up before. Not that you’d ever mentioned yours to her, either, but you’d never have guessed. Her daughter, Elanor, had become your little buddy at the Harrington get togethers when everyone was drunk, finding a 4 year old to be more entertaining than a slew of belligerent adults.

“But, uh, you did say you got pregnant, right?” He asked with a smile. You nod. “See, that’s a good sign then. It can still happen. Maybe you're only compatible with Munson DNA.”

His optimism wraps around you like a blanket, and for the moment you let yourself believe he might be right. Even if it’s going to hurt in the future.

“So, you’re not going to leave if I can’t have a baby…” You don’t make eye contact with him as you say it. He grabs your chin, lifting your head to make you look at him in the eyes.

“Hey, I’d be happy to get a pet rock with you if that’s what you want. We could try and raise some house plants together, but I’m telling you now that when I tried to grow my own weed it didn’t work out well.”

You slide down the bed with a groan, unable to hide the way Eddie’s words have affected you. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest. To finally get it out there, and feeling confident enough to believe Eddie’s words that he wants to stay with you anyway is an indescribable relief.

He leans over to smother you with kisses again before sliding down himself, pulling you into him once more.

September 14th, 1996

Of all days, it would rain today.

Almost a month ago you had Henry served with divorce papers. You’d taken care of everything, making sure all he had to do was sign. You foolishly assumed that it would be something he’d be on top of, considering it’s been over two years since you’ve been separated. Meaning it's been two years since him and the girl he cheated on you with became official. He married you pretty quickly, and you’d figured he would want to do the same to her before she could get wise and leave.

But, here you are. Knocking on your old front door in the rain to confront your husband on why he insists on making things more difficult for you.

“Coming!” You hear a chipper voice call from inside. You roll your eyes, because of course she has to be here, too. The door swings open, and her face lights up with excitement when she sees you.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” She squeals, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hello, Missy.” You were trying to avoid looking at her, the sound of her voice was enough to grate at your eardrums. But when she stepped to the side, your eyes were immediately drawn to the large bump under her sweater. You just stared at her, unmoving, unsure how to process what you’re feeling in the moment.

“Who’s at the door, dear?”

You hear his voice call from another part of the house. It snaps you out of your trance, the anger you were trying to keep at bay boiling up again. You walk inside, heading into the kitchen, leaving Missy to follow behind you.

“Henry,” you cross your arms as you stand in the entryway of the kitchen. Henry’s head snaps up from the book he’s reading, eyes wide when he sees you, wearing the same face as the day you confronted him about his infidelity.

“Ah, what a surprise,” he tries to recover, putting on the mask of arrogance he always wears. “How nice of you to stop by.”

You roll your eyes at his faux pleasantries, maintaining your stance in the doorway. “I’m sure you know why I’m here,” you cut to the chase, not wanting to draw this out any more than necessary.

“Are you here for lunch? I just got breakfast put away so you may have to wait a little while, but I’m making chicken salad!” Missy walks past you, grabbing Henry’s mug and refilling it with coffee. It makes your skin crawl as you watch. She brings the cup back to him, something that you’ve done many times over, now the thought only makes you cringe.

“Darling, why don’t you go rest your feet? I’m sure your stories should be on soon,” Henry kisses her hand. Missy nods excitedly, leaving the room with a wave to you as she does. As soon as she’s gone, the air in the room is sucked away with her. The facade has fallen, Henry’s face morphing into an all too familiar scowl.

“I’m assuming you’re here because of the paperwork you so graciously had served to me,” he stands from his seat at the table, moving around to walk towards you slowly.

“Your assumption would be correct.”

He peered down at you, blue eyes darkening from the shadow of the bridge of his brow. The intensity of his stare almost made you falter, but you’d been practicing for this, in case he tried to size you up like he’d done for years. You doubled down, remaining still as stone even when he’s only mere inches away. You weren’t afraid of his disappointment anymore.

His lips curled into a smile when he noticed you weren’t folding, nodding his head with a small “hmph.”

“You never returned my call, you know.” Your eyes rolled at his dismissiveness. Huffing out a sigh, you decided to at least entertain him a little bit. He was only going to keep on with this if you didn’t.

“Didn’t have anything to say,” you shrug.

He takes a step back with a slight bow, looking towards the ground, “I see. Was there perhaps a reason why?” He straightens up again, the corners of his lips pulling into a tight grin, “Too busy with another man’s dick down your throat to try and work it out with your husband, perhaps?”

You reel back, completely put off guard by his words.

“And a felon’s at that? Honey,” his tone is condescending, and you feel your fortitude slipping, “you know if you were that desperate you should have just come home.”

Your blood runs hot with every word he speaks. “But I guess you felt the need to prove something to me, or yourself. Doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that I’m not going to be signing those papers.”

Your hands shook, balled at fists by your side. You wanted to swing one, punch him right in his pathetic face and give him a taste of his own medicine. But you couldn’t, you knew that’s exactly what he wanted. And you couldn’t risk the cops showing up with Eddie outside waiting in your car. Henry would absolutely try and pin it on him to get him back in jail. All just to spite you.

Taking a deep breath in, you straighten up, giving him a smug look as you lean against the door frame. “That’s fine, you don’t have to sign them. But, and you may want to listen very carefully to me when I say this. I’m going to make your life a living hell if you don’t.”

The devilish smile on his face drops in an instant, morphing into a sneer.

“If you actually read the paper in full, which you clearly haven’t,” you see his eyes dart to the side to an envelope on the counter, likely the one he was served with, “I stated in my filing that the divorce was mutual. That I wanted nothing from you, and if there was no issue with you signing, then we could both walk away from each other with our dignity. But,” you raise your brows, lips tugging into a forced frown, “if you want to play this game, then let's play. The divorce is going to go through anyway, and I’m sure you know that. You also probably know that adultery doesn’t have much leverage in the state of Indiana. But…”

“But?”

You wonder if it’s the tone that you’re speaking to him in, or if it’s the fact that you’re standing up to him for the first time in your entire marriage that’s making him fume to the point he’s speaking only through gritted teeth.

“But, it doesn’t look very good when you’re using our combined finances to pay for the two of you to go to,” you use your fingers to count as you talk, “Hawaii, Italy, Mexico, which I heard really nice things about the resort the two of you went to. Um, where else, Cancun I think? You also shouldn’t have used the bank account to buy her nice new car that’s parked out in the driveway, which you put in her name for some stupid reason. Didn’t think about that because you paid in full for it, did you? You also probably didn’t know that I still have the ability to ask for the statements for that account even though you closed it. That’s okay, I didn’t know either, but my lawyer is really good and gave me that little tip.”

If it were humanly possible, you know steam would be rolling out of his ears. You’ve never seen rage on him like this, and a couple years ago it would have scared the shit out of you. But you had the upper hand for once in this exhausting marriage, and you weren’t going to let up.

“That’s an awful lot of money that went towards your adultery, isn’t it? And you’d have to pay all of that back to me, on top of at least fifty percent of your liquid assets. Maybe more if I felt like telling them you kicked me to the curb to live in an apartment in the middle of the year when I wasn’t working. So, go head, don’t sign the papers. The person that the dick that you’re so concerned about me having down my throat is attached to and I are going to start looking for houses soon, and it would be amazing to pay cash for one. Hopefully you’d still have enough money to pay all your bills and raise a new baby, but that’s not really my problem.”

In an instant he’s backing you into the wall next to the entryway. It happened so fast you didn’t have time to react, only watching as his fist began to rear back. A million scenarios run through your head in the seconds you brace yourself for impact. Funny enough, you’re more worried about Eddie. Because if you walk out of here with a black eye, you know there’s a possibility he’s going to jail for murder. Fully admitting to it, too.

It’s like slow motion as you watch his hand begin its descent towards you. Remembering what you read in a self defense book, you put your tongue at the roof of your mouth and clenched your teeth. Holding your breath, you wait.

But the blow doesn’t come.

“Henry!” you hear Missy’s sing song voice shout from your-- their bedroom. When you open your eyes, you see Henry frozen in place, crazed look in his eyes as his fist hovers next to his head. Your body tells you to move, in case he changes his mind. Run. Run. Run.

But you’re more afraid of what he might do to her if you do.

“Henry?” Her voice is closer now, and Henry jumps back. His eyes are on the hallway entrance as Missy waddles back into the kitchen.

“Oh, good you’re still here! I wanted to give you this,” she makes her way over to you, handing you a small envelope with your name on it in her handwriting.

“It’s an invitation!” she exclaims, waiting for you to take it. You stand there for a second, looking at Henry, whose face is unreadable at the moment, and then looking back to Missy. After a beat, you slowly take the envelope out of her hand. She claps excitedly when you do.

“Darling,” Henry’s tone is cautious as he addresses Missy. It reminds you of a zoo keeper approaching a lion in its cage. “That might not be a good idea.”

Her head tilts when she looks at him. “Why? You told me to invite whoever I wanted to the shower, Henry. I want her to come!”

What?

You open the little envelope, because there’s no way, right? This bitch didn’t just hand you an invitation to the baby shower for the baby of the man you’re still legally married to. Like you know she’s not the brightest, but this…

You bust out laughing as you read the card.

“This is a joke right? You’re just fucking with me to get a rise out of me, right,” you look at her incredulously.

“Huh? What do you mean,” she looks genuinely confused. It only makes you feel worse because she’s dead serious, and your hatred starts to morph into concern. Henry takes slow strides towards her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. The delicacy in his movements is something foreign for him, at least to your eyes.

“Missy, dear, it’s not… not in good taste to invite her.” The way he speaks to her is not what you imagined. You were expecting him to talk to her like a child, slow and condescending like he tried to do with you. But he didn’t.

“In good taste? Henry, you told me I should try and make more friends. So I’m trying to make friends. I know she’s a lot older than me, but you and me get along even though you’re almost my dad’s age.”

Every word out of her mouth gave you whiplash, like being on a rollercoaster. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point, so you decided it would be best to just leave.

“Um, I will…let you know if I can go…later,” you start to back out of the kitchen, “I should probably go now, though. So, um, Henry,” He looks over to you out of the corner of his eye. You were expecting disgust as he looked at you, but instead he seemed…dejected?

“I’m assuming that we’ve come to an understanding?”

He’s still for a moment, his eyes drifting back to Missy, “I’ll have everything taken care of tomorrow.”

Relief washed over you, your body easing up after all that had transpired. You gave him a curt nod, then turned on your heels and booked it towards the door.

Just as you were turning the handle, you hear Missy call your name. She hobbles her way to you, and you try not to cringe as she opens her arms to you.

“Thank you for coming by today!” She wraps her arms around you. You let her get it out of her system. “Feel free to come over any time. Henry told me I don’t have to work anymore, so I have a lot of free time if you ever wanna hang out. Oh, would you wanna go with me to look at baby clothes? There’s a store at the mall I’ve been wanting to go to but haven’t had the chance to go yet.”

Every fiber in your being wants to tell her to fuck off, but you just feel sympathy for her instead. At least you have friends. You know Nancy, Robin, Max-- shit, even Steve would be begging you to take him shopping for baby stuff if you and Eddie ever have a baby.

This whole situation feels like a sick joke to test you. Is this what you had to deal with just to have the happy life you wanted?

“I--Missy, mmm,” you’re battling yourself as you speak, brain exhausted from the last hour, “Missy, you don’t have any family that can go with you? Friends?”

“I have family, yeah, but all my siblings are younger. My mom died a couple years ago, so I basically had to raise my siblings myself while my dad worked all the time,” she said the last part came out with mere annoyance. As if being forced to raise your siblings wasn’t something that could be extremely traumatizing for a person. “And my friends are all way smarter than me, so they went to college in other states. I miss them a lot, but most of them don’t call me anymore. Actually, none of them call me…”

Fuck.

“Okay, you know what, fine. I’ll do it,” you spit out, feeling disappointed in yourself for caving in to her sob story, “I’ll go with you. I have some friends, one of them who has a kid on the way, too, who could probably help you. I’ll, um, talk to them and give you a call.”

She’s quiet for a moment, until she suddenly bursts into tears. You panic, not sure what you said wrong, until she trusts herself onto you again, hard belly pressing into yours as she hugs you. Her tears wet the corner of your shirt, and you pat her on the back. Looking up, you see Henry watching the interaction from down the hall. He shakes his head before going back into the kitchen.

“Oh, thank god,” Eddie yells from the car, pacing on the grass next to the sidewalk with a cigarette in his mouth, “I was about to call Hopper if you didn’t come out in the next ten minutes.”

You didn’t say anything, still trying to process everything that just transpired. You get a sick feeling in your stomach when you think about it too hard, so you just let yourself fall into Eddie, burying your face in his chest. Tossing his cigarette since he knows you don’t like the smell of the smoke, he wraps you up tight, kissing the top of your head.

“Do we need to stop at the store for some treats on the way home? I’ll get your favorites,” his words wash over you like a waterfall of comfort, “And we can stop and get a couple movies. Maybe bother Robin and El for a little bit while they work?”

You smile against Eddie’s chest, remembering that everything you’re doing was because of him. When you look up at him, he wastes no time smooching you all over your face. He lets you vent to him in the car, not interrupting as you give him the play by play. You leave out the near miss with Henry, not wanting to stress Eddie out more. He already hated Henry enough as it is.

“Are you actually gonna take her to the mall,” Eddie looks at you with an open mouth smile, the whole situation with Missy just tickling him as you go on.

“Ugh, I feel like I should. I don’t know,” you groan, “What do you think?”

“Well, I want to say that you’re being too nice to the girl who was the downfall to your marriage. But,” he crosses his arms with a shrug, “I’m on her team because she’s technically the reason we’re together. Don’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but if you think it’s something that you can handle, go for it.”

Tears soak the front of your shirt as it covers your face, your body shaking silently as you lay curled into a ball on the couch. Eddie had fallen asleep hours ago, but you couldn’t. You were in your head, dissecting everything about your interaction with Henry. It all started when you started to feel guilt for leaving Missy there, knowing that Henry could be violent if he wanted to. But then you started thinking about how he acted around her. The softness in his touch, his gentle voice. He wasn’t even that sweet with you in the beginning of your relationship.

The fact that he told her to make friends after convincing you to push all your friends away really got to you. Because he knew that if you told your friends the things he did to you that they would tell you to leave him. But he was encouraging her to make friends. Was he not abusing her like he did you? It didn’t seem like it. Missy might not be the brightest, but she also doesn’t seem like the type to not let it slip if Henry were to do something to her.

But then you have to ask why is it different with her? Why did you never get his soft touch, his gentle voice? Was it just because she was pregnant? Did he even love you?

“Sweetheart?”

Eddie’s voice startled you. The click of the lamp had you rushing to wipe away any evidence of your crying, but the sting of the fabric against your swollen eyes only confirmed that you were a mess. Eddie drops to his knees in front of the couch, face level with yours so you can see the way his eyebrows are pinched with concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, princess?” His hand caresses your cheek, thumb wiping away any straggling tears. You take a deep breath in, trying to regain your composure, but when you think about speaking your thoughts out loud your throat goes dry. The sadness bubbles up again, you can feel the damn ready to break the longer he looks at you with those big, brown sympathetic eyes.

Without a word you watch through clouded vision as Eddie stands and walks back down the hall.

Oh, no. This is it.

He’s finally realized that you have too much baggage. That he’s made a mistake and he’s gone to pack his bags to leave. He’ll tell you he’s going to Steve’s to let you cool off, and then he’ll call the next day and say that things aren’t going to work out after all.

And you wouldn’t blame him. You knew that there was no way someone as broken and unlovable as you would ever deserve someone like him. You should have told him no when he asked you to marry him. It’s for the best-

“Are you able to get up?”

You blink away tears. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie had walked back into the room. When you don’t respond after a moment, you feel his arms slip under your knees and shoulders, hoisting you up and pulling you into him. The sound of water running gets louder as he takes you down the hall, and when he pushes the bathroom door open with his foot, you realize that he’s filling up the bathtub, the only light coming from two candles sitting on the inner edge of the tub. He lowers you down, sitting you on the edge of the tub so he can test the temperature of the water with his hand.

“Is it okay if I undress you?” He asks as he wipes his hand off on the towel he’s set aside for you. You nod, still in a bit of shock at the tenderness he’s giving you. In the back of your mind you know that you shouldn’t be, that this is absolutely something he would do for you. But you’re still in the headspace that you’d learn to escape to when you were with Henry. You can’t comprehend being deserving of his kindness.

Every touch and manipulation of your body as he undresses you feels like he’s taking another layer from your body. Layers of guilt, shame, self hatred. Peeling away the last bit of shed that stuck to you from the bad conditions of the habitat you lived in for almost 10 years. He takes his hand in yours, admiring your ring, your new ring, that he gave you as a promise to love you for the rest of his life. A promise that you’ve heard before, but you wanted nothing more for it to be real this time.

“Will you get in with me?” You don’t look at him, eyes on his hand that holds yours. But you hear him grin, a hum of satisfaction as he stands.

“God, I thought you’d never ask,” he says as he pulls off his clothes with haste. You can’t help but giggle as he struggles getting his foot out of the leg of his sweatpants. His face lights up at the sounds of your laughter. He bends down to give you a kiss, soft and sweet, taking that last bit of sadness with him when he parts.

November 10th, 1996

“Dustin’s house is in this neighborhood,” Eddie says as you drive slowly down the street, the both of you keeping an eye out for a “For Sale” sign. The realtor you’d been working with called you at six in the morning that day to tell you that this house had just gone on sale and it was yours and Eddie’s dream house. She had said the same thing about the 3 other houses she’d shown you, but to her defense you were being extremely picky. After being the only one to clean the house for as long as you did, you knew what was easy to maintain and what you absolutely weren’t willing to deal with. Eddie thankfully was on the same page after making it his responsibility to keep the 4 bedroom, 6 bathroom Harrington house in ship shape for the entire year he had lived there. So a single level home with at least 3 bedrooms was enough for the both of you.

“Awe, it would be nice to live close by for when he comes home to visit,” you’re taking in the other houses in the neighborhood as Eddie drives, trying to gather ideas for how you might decorate the front of your future home.

“Being closer to Claudia would be nice, too,” he says as you slow to a stop at an intersection, “It would be easier to just walk to her house to mow the lawn instead of running across town.”

Driving a few more blocks down, the sale sign finally comes into view, your realtor’s minivan that you’ve come to recognize over the last month parked in the driveway. You pull in next to it, and immediately you’re happy to see a two car garage. The house looks promising from the outside, too. Dark brick, a small covered porch that could fit two chairs, a decent front yard with some space where you can plant some flowers; you could feel yourself getting excited and you hadn’t even left the car yet. Eddie opened your door, giving you a look as he holds his hand out for you to take it.

“What,” you match your smile to his, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he keeps your hand in his as you close the car door.

“Whatever, Munson,” you tease, the two of you walking to the doorway of the house.

The door opens before you can even knock, Chrissy standing on the other side of the exterior glass door. You can tell by the look on her face that she’s very excited to show you the house, hands on her belly bump as she shuffles back and forth giddily.

“Come in, come in,” she squeals as she pushes the door open, stepping to the side for Eddie and you to enter. “I watched you from the window and I can already tell this is the one. As soon as I saw the porch I knew you’d love it. But once I got to look around in here, I’m willing to bet you’re going to want to put an offer in.”

From what you can see from the doorway you were already impressed. The open concept living room and dining room was just big enough that you wouldn’t feel cramped, but not too big that you would hate to clean it. The large window brought in lots of light, making you think back to Eddie’s comment about house plants. Maybe it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

As she showed you around the house more, you were checking off things on your list of needs at every turn. Three spacious bedrooms, master bathroom and a walk in closet, kitchen with an island. The backyard was even fenced in, and you were already mentally mapping how you would set up a garden. Everything was perfect for you, and the look on Eddie’s face makes you think it’s perfect for him, too.

“So,” Chrissy places elbows on the counter, looking at the both of you with big, blue eyes, “Are we putting the offer in today or what?”

Eddie looks at you with wide eyes and a toothy grin, his hand gives yours a squeeze. Your heart flutters at his eagerness. The three of you talk about putting in an offer. Of course there had to be a catch, which was the asking price being ten thousand more than your budget, but Chrissy said that the owners were out of state and just trying to get rid of the property so they didn’t have to keep maintaining it. After deciding on a price, you and Eddie go out to Benny’s afterwards to celebrate.

“Eddie, the house isn’t even ours yet,” you say as you listen to him go on about turning the garage into his music area for him and the boys to play.

“Yet,” he emphasizes, “I bet we’ll be in there before Christmas. Shit, maybe before Thanksgiving if they’ll let us. Not like they need to get anything out of there.”

“We’d still need to get furniture,” you’re trying to play devil’s advocate, mostly to keep from getting your hopes up.

“We can get furniture. And it’s not like you don’t have the essentials at the apartment. We don’t have to make everything perfect on day one.”

“Ugh, I hate when you’re right,” you lean back in your seat, failing at keeping your excitement at bay. “It’s a good thing we ran into Chrissy and James at the mall.”

“Jason,” he corrects as he shovels fries in his mouth, “and me, too. Didn’t think I’d ever be happy to run into Jason Carver again, but I guess fatherhood can change a man.”

“Or, maybe you were both just stupid teenagers back then, and now you’re in your thirties and more mature.”

“You callin’ me old, Mrs. Munson?” The two of you have only been engaged for four months but that didn’t stop him from thinking you were already his wife.

“So old,” you say sarcastically, “That’s why I’m only marrying you for your money.”

“I knew it,” he dropped his fork on the table, over exaggerating his reaction as he feigned outrage.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” you grin, “There is another thing I’m marrying you for.” You look at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip. He drops his act when he understands what you’re getting at, leaning in close to you over the table.

“Just so you know, I thought about how I was going to fuck you in every room of that house.”

You felt heat rush immediately to your cheeks, shifting in your seat slightly.

“I’m having a hard time imagining it, maybe you need to show me what exactly you’d do to me.”

And show you he did.

November 27th, 1996

Eddie thrusts into you from behind, his weight against your back as he presses you into the mattress beneath him. You were still coming down from your own orgasm just moments before when his movements began to falter. His moans in your ear are accompanied with the feeling of his cum filling you up inside for the third time tonight.

Thank god you have the next five days off for Thanksgiving break. There were still piles of boxes to unpack in your new home, but Eddie was determined to christen every room in the house and you were sure you’d need a few days to recover at the rate he was going, jumping you as soon as Steve and Robin left.

He pulls out of you with a hiss. Hands still on your ass, he watches his cum begin to dribble out of you. “Can’t have that,” he chuckles, and you feel his thumb push the spend back into you, making you shutter.

“Eddie,” you say with warning before he got any ideas. His thumb leaves you, but he gives your ass a smack before jumping off the bed. You’re envious of the stamina he has.

He returns from the kitchen with a drink for you, laughing at the position you’ve put yourself in.

“Hey, Chrissy said it works,” you say with your pillow propped under your ass and your feet crossed pointing towards the ceiling, “and they’re about to have their fifth kid so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sets the glass on your bedside table next to a half unpacked box that he had distracted you in the middle of unpacking,“I’m not gonna argue with that. You want me to hold your legs for you, Mrs. Munson?”

“No, thank you,” you pat his side of the bed, “Just want you to lay with me, please.”

He trots to his side of the bed, plopping next to you on the mattress. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before he mirrors you, crossing his legs and pointing them towards the ceiling.

“Alright, how long do we have to do this for?”

You roll your eyes at him, “At least 20 minutes.”

“Jesus Christ, 20 minutes? I’m already feeling the burn over here,” he puts his hands behind his thighs, determined to wait it out with you.

The two of you finally get settled under the covers, Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, his hands rubbing circles into your back. You bury your head in his chest to block the moonlight bleeding between the blinds, regretting not putting up the blinds before Eddie got to you. The up and down of his chest as he breathes is making your eyes feel heavy, sleep begins to take over you.

“I love you.”

His voice was low, quiet. Just for you to hear.

You knew he meant it. Because he’s shown you his soft voice. His gentle touch. He’s shown you what love is supposed to feel like, not what you’ve been conditioned to believe it is. Every kiss on your face when you’re anxious and every sweet caress of your body when you’re writhing under him. Every fight that has had the both of you steaming where he puts your hand in his because he doesn’t want to go to bed mad. The way he talks about your future, where the both of you have grey in your hair and his mind wanders, only remembering your face

“I love you, too.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson stranger things #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x reader #inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader #eddie munson x teacher!reader

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puppiesareperfect · 1 month ago

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Sometimes I laugh at networks saying phineas and Ferb was “too complex to air” and then I remember how out there some of the episode concepts are. Like, if I wasn’t aware of the source and someone was like —“I saw this episode of a tv show. It was about this kid who couldn’t make decisions and went to his friends for help. They created a machine that made him spawn a clone whenever he had to make a choice—allowing both choices to be made simultaneously. Eventually this boy has so many clones that he decides to overpower (and possibly kill) his schoolyard bully, being overtaken by hubris”—I’d be much quicker to assume it was an episode of the twilight zone than of Phineas and Ferb

#phineas and ferb #shit post #baljeet tjinder #baljeet #I sometimes forget how heavily the ‘science fiction’ of ‘musical/comedy/sci-fi’ comes out in Phineas and Ferb #god what a genre #iconic show

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doctorbitchcrxft · 7 months ago

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Dead Man's Blood | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, daddy issues, mentions of parental death

Word Count: 5022

A/N: Cannot believe we're at the penultimate episode of my version of the first season Supernatural!! Crazy!! Thank you guys so much for the love and support; I truly appreciate it.

When season 2 starts, the taglist will be closed! If you'd like to join and haven't already, please let me know!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and the Winchester boys sat at a table in a diner searching for possible cases to take on. You sat at your laptop on the side of the table with Sam and Dean to your right and left.

Dean looked through a newspaper and folded it up in frustration. “Well, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got, Sammy?”

“I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota... here. A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived,” Sam responded.

“Sounds more like ‘that's Incredible’ than, uh, 'Twilight Zone'.”

“Yeah, I agree,” you said.

“Hey you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick, man, smokin'.” Dean whistled lowly. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe someday. But in the meantime we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that,” Sam stated.

“Yeah, alright. How ‘bout you, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home,” you said, continuing to scan the web page before you.

“Elkins? I know that name,” Dean said.

You shrugged as Sam said, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Dean muttered the man’s name over and over.

“Sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack, now, they've found some signs of robbery,” you continued.

Dean took out his father’s journal and began to flick through it. “There, check it out.” He turned the book around to you and Sam and pointed at a contact reading “D. Elkins” with the man’s phone number next to it.

“You think it's the same Elkins?” Sam questioned.

“It's a Colorado area code.”

“Alright, Colorado it is. Let’s go, kids,” you said.

***

You and the boys made your way to the remote cabin of Daniel Elkins and picked the lock to his home. You cringed at the sight of your messy surroundings once inside. Books were everywhere, mad scribblings on stray pages covered the floor, and the furniture seemed to not have been dusted in years.

“Looks like the maid didn't come today,” Dean remarked.

You crouched down at the entrance of the home and fingered something on the floor. “Hey, got some salt over here.”

“You mean protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt?” Dean asked.

You gave him a dirty look. “Clearly a ring. Elkins was a player?”

“Definitely,” Dean responded.

You rose to go stand beside the brothers and look over the journal they were flicking through.

“That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's,” said Sam as he flipped through the pages.

“Yep, except this dates back to the '60s,” Dean added.

You led the brothers into another room and took in the shattered skylights. You moved your flashlight around the room and took in the fact that somehow, this room was messier than the other ones.

“Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam said, referencing the damage to the skylights. It seemed there were two separate entry points through them.

“Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too,” the older brother added. He crouched down to the floor.

“You got something?” you asked, crouching beside him.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?” Sam suggested.

Dean grabbed a page from a notebook on top of the desk beside you and placed it over the spot on the ground. He rubbed a pencil over the top to create an outline. “Or maybe a message.” He peeled up the paper that now had a lot of blood on the back and showed you and Sam the rubbings of the characters. “Look familiar?”

“Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop,” you said.

Dean looked to his brother. “Just the way Dad does it.”

***

You and the boys found a letter in the mailbox labeled with the numbers and letters from the floor’s message. You leaned over the back seat of the car and read off the letters on the envelope.

“ ‘J.W.’ Gotta be John Winchester, right?” you said.

“I don't know. Should we open it?” Dean turned his head to you.

A knock on Dean’s window came before any of you could say another word. You reared back and grabbed your gun from your belt, pointing it at the sound.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

You breathed out sharply as John opened the door and slid into the seat next to you. “I almost shot you, dude.”

He chuckled at you.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” Sam asked, turning to face him.

John’s gravelly voice seemed even more tired and worn than the last time you’d seen him. “Yeah, I'm okay. I read the news about Daniel; I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

“Why didn't you come in, Dad?”

“You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed. By anyone or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.”

Dean looked a little proud. “Yeah, well, we learned from the best.”

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam questioned.

John nodded. “He was— He was a good man. Taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.”

“Well, you never mentioned him to us.”

“We had a— we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years.” He gestured to the envelope. “I should look at that.” He opened it. “ 'If you're reading this, I'm already dead'... that son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” his eldest son asked.

“He had it the whole time.”

Sam looked at him confused. “Dad, what?”

“When you searched the place, did you— did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?”

You shook your head. “I saw an old case, but it was empty.”

John sighed. “They have it.”

“You mean, whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asked.

John started to get out of the car. “We gotta pick up the trail.”

“Wait, you want us to come with you?” Sam scoffed.

“If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” John rushed out.

“The gun? Why?”

“Because it's important, that's why.”

‘He’s even more of a hardass than Dean.’

“Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” the younger son protested.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires.”

Your heart nearly dropped at the mention of those creatures.

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out. I was wrong,” John said.

“Damn right,” you jumped in, not realizing the sudden venom lacing your words.

The three men stared back at you, and you shrank awkwardly.

John continued to explain. “Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

Anxiety clawed at your throat. You hadn’t faced any vampires since the death of your family.

***

You and the Winchesters found a decently priced motel to stay in to get your bearings before you went after the vampires. You watched Sam and Dean sleeping peacefully on their beds, but you were unable to get a wink. You and John sat on opposite sides of the table in the room listening to the police scanner.

You admired Dean’s relaxed features. You rarely saw him this at-ease. You wished you could be sleeping beside him, but your own mind was keeping you awake. The eldest Winchester looked over at you and whispered over the hum of the police scanner. “How’ve they been?” he asked.

You sighed. “They’re alright, I think. Been driving themselves crazy looking for you, though.”

He chuckled softly. “I figured they were.” He paused for a minute.

“They need you more than they need me,” you said. “You should stay with ‘em. I’ll be hitting the road in a little while, I think.”

“Don’t,” he said. “They’ll need you when this is all over.”

“What? You’re not gonna stay?” You turned your head to John.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

You were disgusted at him. “Look, no disrespect, but that’s crap.”

He seemed caught off-guard. “And why’s that?” he challenged.

“Sam’s a mess. You walked out on Dean. Your boys deserve their father," you whispered harshly.

“Don’t act like you know me,” he hissed. “Dean’s a grown man. He’ll get over it. Sam, too. I’m not abandoning them; it’s just not safe.”

“Just call a spade a spade, John. Abandonment ‘for their safety’ is still abandonment,” you argued.

“You don’t think I wanna be with my kids—?"

“No, I don’t actually,” you cut him off.

Before he could continue to argue with you, something on the police scanner caught your attention.

“Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41, abandoned car. You need a workup?” the static voice said.

“Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here,” another voice said.

“Sam, Dean, let's go,” John slapped their feet as he stood, his voice still gravelly from his anger with you.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean muttered, though still asleep.

Sam sat up and Dean rubbed his eyes.

“There’s a call on the scanner,” you said.

“(Y/N), did you get any sleep?” the older brother slurred sleepily.

“That’s not important right now,” you told him. “C’mon.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“A couple called 911,; found a body in the street. Cops got there and everyone was missing. It's the vampires,” John explained.

“How do you know?”

“Just follow me, okay?” John said, leaving the room.

You turned to Sam who was putting his jacket on. “It’s how they hunt. They lay in the middle of the road and wait for somebody to pull over. By the time they get up close and personal, it’s too late. Then they leave.”

Dean sat up, still half-asleep. “You gonna be okay?” he asked you.

“I’m fine,” you responded. You could tell he didn’t believe you, but you left him behind without waiting for an argument.

***

John was talking to the cops while you and the brothers stood back by the Impala under the cover of the trees. He refused to look at you after your argument, and you refused to speak to him. You wouldn’t engage with a man who walked out on his children and put Dean through so much.

“I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him,” the brunet sighed sulkily.

“Oh, don't tell me it's already starting.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“What's starting?” Sam asked.

John walked up before either of you could answer.

“What have you got?” Dean asked his dad.

“It was them, alright. Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour,” John explained.

“How can you be so sure?” Sam challenged.

“Sam—” Dean tried.

“I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” Sam told him sharply.

“We are,” John responded.

You stood back next to Dean, trying not to get involved in the fight.

“How do you know?”

John handed something to his oldest son. “I found this.”

“It's a vampire fang.”

“Not a fang, teeth. They’ve got a second set that comes out when they attack,” you explained, looking over Dean’s shoulder at the tooth.

“Any more questions?” John challenged Sam.

Sam looked away and stayed silent.

“Alright, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight,” John said. Everything he said was said with authority. “Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it,” he gruffly spat at his son before heading to his truck.

You angrily stared after the man before looking over at Dean, who grimaced and got into the passenger’s seat.

Sam drove, keeping a close follow on John’s truck. You rested your chin on Dean’s shoulder, looking over the excerpt he was reading about vampires in your journal. He read aloud to you and Sam. “ ‘Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks.’ I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple.”

Sam grumbled, “That's probably what Dad's thinking. Course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.”

“So it is starting,” Dean sighed.

“What?”

“Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?”

Sam huffed. “No. Look, I'm happy he's okay, alright? And I'm happy that we're all working together again.”

“Well, good,” Dean said.

The younger brother was unable to help himself. “It's just the way he treats us, like we're children.”

“Oh, God.” You sat back in the seat, doing your best to ignore the fight between the brothers.

“He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal,” Sam argued.

“He does what he does for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“Our job! There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, all right. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?” Sam looked over at his brother angrily.

Dean gave Sam a long look before strongly responding, “If that's what it takes.”

Sam shook his head and returned his eyes to the road.

A few minutes later, Dean was on the phone with his dad. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it.” He hung up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

Sam’s frustrated tone was back. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“How,” Sam somehow sounded angrier.

“I don't know. He didn't say,” Dean responded.

Sam gunned the engine, and pulled in front of his dad’s truck before slamming the breaks.

“What are you doing, Sam?” you asked.

Sam got out of the car without answering you.

“Oh, crap. Here we go.” Dean followed his brother out of the car. “Sam!”

You just watched from the back seat, deciding not to get between the family’s brawl.

You watched in the driver’s side rear view mirror as John and Sam got in each other’s faces. Dean was trying to pull the two apart, and you could make out some of what they were screaming at each other about.

Sam approached the car again before spinning back around at his father. You often got in fights like that with your own father but more about his treatment of you and your brother. You knew better than to argue his orders.

“You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!” Sam yelled loudly enough for you to hear.

Dean then shoved the two apart, forcing Sam back to the car. Sam got back in the driver’s seat, still enraged.

“Sam, do you want me to—”

“No,” he snapped at you.

“Oh-kay, then.”

***

You and the brothers sat in the trees watching the beat-up barn the vampires called home. Dean stood beside you and cursed, “Son of a bitch. So they're really not afraid of the sun?” as he watched the vampires climb into a car, shielding their faces with their hands.

“Nope,” you said. “Direct sunlight just stings like a badass sunburn.”

“The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day— doesn't mean they won't wake up,” John added.

“So I guess walking right in's not our best option,” Dean said.

“Actually, that's the plan,” John grinned.

You and the brothers flipped open the trunk of the Impala and began grabbing machetes. John did the same with his truck, but his was outfitted with a fancy, automatic, hidden compartment.

“Here, (Y/N).” Dean handed you a rusty machete.

You caught sight of the giant blade their dad was holding. “Whoa, why don’t you have any like that?”

Dean snorted and turned his head. “Wow.”

John paused, closing his trunk. “So, you boys really wanna know about this Colt?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam.

“It's just a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” John began. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say... They say this gun can kill anything.”

“Kill anything, like, supernatural anything?” Dean breathed.

“Like the demon,” Sam connected.

“Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, and we may have it.”

“Wait, and you couldn’t tell your kids that why?” you snarled.

“(Y/N)—” Dean scolded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

John just looked at his eldest son. “What exactly made you keep her around for so long?”

“Both of you, stop it,” Dean said. "Let’s get these fuckers while we have the chance.”

You backed off, tension dissolving a little at Dean’s words. You looked between the boys and their father. Their faces conveyed complex emotions you couldn’t quite read.

Silently, you and Dean flanked one end of the barn while Sam took the other with his father.

You and Dean jumped through a barn window and walked around their hammocks carefully. Dean accidentally kicked an empty bottle on the ground, and you froze. You made a worried face and looked over to Dean, who froze as well.

The vampire next to Dean stirred, but didn’t wake up. You and Dean continued on until you found a woman tied up against a pole. You weren’t sure if she was sleeping or unconscious.

“Dean,” you whispered, crouching beside the woman. He came over to you as you began to untie her. You heard a noise behind you, and Dean went over to investigate.

“There’s more,” he said, grabbing something to break the locks on the metal cages a distance away from you.

The woman you were untying began to stir, and you did your best to assure her you were here to help.

The woman awoke and let out an unearthly roar.

“Dean!” you called, shooting up.

“Kids, run!” John called to you after hearing your voice. You and Dean sprinted out of the building, yelling for Sam as you did so. The vampires chased you, but you used the daylight to your advantage. You broke back through the trees and returned to the cars.

“Dad?! Sam!” Dean called. The two then came back up the slope.

“They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John said.

“Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean questioned.

“You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what.”

You knew where John was going with this. You smiled at the boys who seemed confused. “C’mon, Dean,” you said, patting his shoulder. You turned to the Impala, and Sam and his father got in the latter’s truck.

Dean cruised down the road to the funeral home you had found and were planning to break into.

“What the hell was that earlier?” Dean asked frustratedly as soon as the car doors were shut.

“What?”

“With my dad, (Y/N), why would you say something like that?!”

"Look, we got in a fight while you and Sam were sleeping. I just don’t like how he treats you guys,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but don’t. Sam’s enough for me right now as it is,” he responded.

A few moments passed, and you looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Dean sighed. “It’s okay.” He snorted after a moment. “Not many people would stand up to my dad like that.”

You smiled, eyes still on your hands folded in your lap. “He reminds me a lot of my dad. John and Sam fight exactly how my dad and I did. Steven always had to break us apart.”

“I just don’t understand why Sam can’t leave the old man alone,” Dean told you. “I mean, we spent so fucking long looking for ‘im, and as soon as we find him, he’s pickin’ fights.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get why he’s upset, but I agree that it’s the wrong place and wrong time right now. I mean, despite the fact that I picked a fight with him. Again, mistake on my part.”

“Agreed.”

You let a moment of silence pass before you spoke again. “Dee?”

“Hm.”

“Now that we’ve found your dad, do you still want me here?”

He turned his head toward you. “Of course, I do. You’re not gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

You grinned. “Good. After a year of all this, you guys have become my new normal. I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to being alone again.”

Dean smirked and turned back to the road, pulling into the parking lot of the funeral home.

After a few lies and a bit of breaking and entering, you and Dean were headed back to the motel with dead man’s blood in hand.

“What does that stuff do exactly?” Dean asked you as he drove.

“It’s kinda like vampire food poisoning. Pretty useful stuff,” you explained.

“How’ve you been with this whole thing?” he asked.

“What, the vampires?”

Dean nodded.

“Winchester, are you goin’ soft on me? Since when do you care to get into the touchy-feely?” you joked.

He rolled his eyes in response. “Answer the damn question, (Y/N).”

You sighed, dropping your plucky attitude. “I’m okay, I think. I just— I haven’t hunted any vamps since my parents died. Any time I sniffed any out, I ran the other way. It’s kind of ironic that the one thing I fucking hate hunting has the one thing we need to kill this demon.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well, y’know… Just…”

“There’s my boy. Having trouble with moments of sincerity once more,” you gibed but became serious once more as he rolled his eyes. “I know. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

***

You were surprised to find John and Sam laughing when you reentered their motel room.

“Whew. Man, some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys,” Dean said.

“Get it?” John asked.

You reached into Dean’s jacket pocket and pulled out a paper bag with a bottle full of blood inside it. You handed it over to the eldest Winchester.

“You know what to do,” he said.

***

You hated watching that creature feel Dean up and kiss him, but you knew you needed to let it happen for the sake of getting the Colt from the vampires. You’d already nearly beheaded her when she backhanded him.

Another vampire appeared behind the woman holding Dean in the air by his face, and that was when you made your move. You used a crossbow to shoot both of the vampires straight between their ribs, and the girl holding Dean dropped him.

“Dammit,” she cursed as you approached the group from the trees. “It barely even stings.”

“Give it time, babe,” you told her. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. Should be giving you a nasty tummy ache any second.” You pouted at her mockingly as she began to waver and lose consciousness.

“Load her up,” John ordered you and his sons. “I'll take care of this one.” Moments later, you heard a slashing noise and blood splattering coming from behind you as you finished loading the girl into Dean’s trunk.

***

You met John in a clearing in the woods where you and Sam were setting up a campfire. Dean tied the unconscious vampiress to a tree, and you circled her, fuming.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean told you. “Don’t kill her just yet.”

“I’m tryin’ not to,” you responded, gripping the handle of your machete tightly.

He chuckled at you and turned to his dad.

“Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John commanded.

“Stuff stinks!” Dean coughed.

“That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes, and you stand a chance of not being detected,” his father replied.

“You sure they'll come after her?” Sam asked his dad.

“Vampires mate for life,” you broke in. “She means more to the leader than the gun.”

“But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time,” John added.

“A half hour oughta do it,” shrugged Sam.

“And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John stated.

The boys began to protest.

“Well, Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself,” Dean said.

“I'll have her,” John replied, referencing the passed-out vampire. “And the Colt.”

“But after. We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?” Sam looked at his father expectantly. There was a long pause before Sam spoke again. “You're leaving again, aren't you. You still wanna go after the demon alone." Hes scoffed mockingly. "You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children.”

“You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe.”

Dean spoke up much to your surprise. “Dad, all due respect, but, uh, that's a bunch of crap.”

“Excuse me?” the older man scoffed.

“You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe,” Dean argued.

“It's not the same thing, Dean.”

“Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”

“This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive,” John responded.

“You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look, I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death… it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't,” John admitted.

“What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, and we could’ve done something about it?" He let his words hang in the air for a moment. "You know, I've been thinking. I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded as his brother continued. “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.”

John’s walls went back up. “We're running out of time. You do your job, and you get out of the area. That's an order.”

Dean looked down at the ground, and you watched him carefully as he tried to suppress his rising emotions.

***

After you and the boys freed the people that had been locked up in the vampires’ barn, you went to find John and the members of the nest. You found them just in time because John had been knocked on his ass by the vampire you’d kidnapped.

You and the brothers hurried out of the trees and began shooting vampires with a crossbow. You moved toward the leader with your machete, but he backhanded you and held you in a headlock with his arm around your throat.

You struggled against him as he addressed Dean, who was holding a machete of his own. “Don't! I'll break her neck. Put the blade down.”

Dean hesitated.

Luther tightened his hold on your neck, causing you to struggle more. “It’d be a real shame for her to die.” He dug his nose in your hair and sniffed deeply. “She’s pretty. I’d love having her around. Drop it!”

Dean did as told, and his jaw clenched in fury.

“You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the leader said.

“I don’t think so,” came John’s voice from behind you. The vampire spun you and himself around to face John, who shot the vampire in the middle of his forehead. He dropped you to the floor, and Dean rushed to your side.

You turned and watched a sigil appear on the man’s forehead where he’d been shot as his girlfriend screamed in agony. “Luther!”

The vampire slumped to the ground, dead. The vampiress started toward John, but was pulled away by her friend to get to their car. They took off, wheels screaming and leaving you in the dust.

***

You sat in the brothers’ motel room, having finished packing long before they had as usual. John entered the room and addressed his sons. “So, boys.”

They stopped packing and turned to face him. “Yes, sir.”

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he said crossly.

“Yes, sir.” Sam hung his head low.

Dean argued, “Yeah, but we saved your ass.”

John held his son’s challenging stare, and you swallowed nervously.

“You're right,” John admitted much to your surprise.

“I am?”

If it weren’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at Dean’s adorably clueless face.

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So… we go after this damn thing. Together.”

You smiled as the two boys said in unison, “Yes, sir.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @skys-writings @immagods @metalblindbitch @missmieux @yoongi-holland

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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sidekick-hero · 11 months ago

Text

Carry you

When Eddie opens his eyes, he has no idea where he is.

That should probably scare him, but the only thing he can think in that moment between blissful nothingness and cold, hard reality is "the bathroom at the party looked different." Because he is in a bathroom, that much he can say. There are white tiles everywhere and a roll of toilet paper in front of him and... is that a plastic handrail?

Lifting his head is a Herculean effort, but somehow he manages to do it, even though it makes his stomach turn.

In front of him is a freestanding shower and a bathtub with stairs to get into. The bathroom is huge and sterile, smelling of disinfectant.

As more and more of his senses come back online, Eddie notices several things at once:

#1 He's wearing what can barely be called a gown, cold air hitting his exposed skin everywhere. His back, his legs, hell, even his junk gets more of a breeze than he likes.

#2 He's nauseous, his stomach rolls uncomfortably, and his head is killing him, a sharp pain that's increasing in intensity by the second.

#3 He knows that something is definitely very, very wrong and he can feel the anxiety rising like bile in his throat.

It's that last realization that triggers his fight or flight response and in seconds he's off the toilet he's sitting on, the sudden movement sending him stumbling, his legs wobbling and his head spinning. Everything hurts and he feels so weak. He catches himself on the railing next to the toilet and figures that's what it's there for. Although he has no idea what kind of person would have such a strange bathroom. The last one he was in, at Tim's or Tom's or Terry's party, something with a T, for sure, the tiles had been black and there had been a lot of bamboo furniture and gold accents. It had smelled nice too, vanilla and cinnamon.

He staggers to a door that hopefully leads out of this fucking nightmare. Maybe Gareth or Freak are behind this, to teach Eddie a lesson for ditching them again to go partying when they had to pack up their shit after the show. But not Jeff, he's too nice to do something like that. The next morning, when Eddie arrives with a hangover the size of his ego, to quote Gareth, Jeff will only look at him with disappointment.

Or maybe they just don't care enough about him anymore to pull a prank on him. Eddie can't remember the last time they even talked to him, beyond discussing the bare minimum for their shows.

Leaving the bathroom, he carefully walks down a long hallway with the ugliest yellow linoleum Eddie has ever seen. It hurts his eyes and his stomach gives another unpleasant churning. On his right, he sees a glass door with "Intermediate Care Unit" written in big white letters.

What the fuck?

He turns right and continues down the hall, hoping to find someone who can tell him where he is and why his body feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly.

"Mr. Munson, you shouldn't be out of bed," a stern voice calls from behind him, and when he turns around he sees a middle-aged woman in white scrubs looking at him with a stern expression on her face.

Feeling more and more like he has landed in an episode of The Twilight Zone, Eddie looks at her with an incredulous look on his face. "Who are you? And where is everyone?"

She scoffs at his answer, clearly not pleased.

"I am the nurse responsible for getting you well enough to leave this ward as soon as possible, and you would make my job a lot easier if you would go back to your bed." Before he can process the meaning of her words, she continues. "As for everyone else, well, no one else overdosed, so I would assume they're all home by now."

Eddie can only stare at her open-mouthed, disbelief and horror probably written all over his face, because her own face is softening slightly.

"Now come on, let's get you back to bed, you really shouldn't be wandering around."

She gently takes his elbow and leads him to a door with the number 719 on it. As she opens it for him, Eddie sees three beds inside. To the left and right, he sees two old men, both looking directly at him. The one on the right says, "We tried to stop him, Nurse Elli, we really did," in a high, nasal voice that is already getting on Eddie's nerves. "The kid wouldn't listen to us, would he, Harry?"

"Exactly," Harry answered, at least in a deeper, more bearable tone.

Ignoring the geriatric Ernie and Bert, Nurse Elli leads him to the bed in the middle and helps him to lie down again. Only then does Eddie remember that all he's wearing is a thin hospital gown with an open back. Well, he thinks, Nurse Elli has seen worse in her profession than his pale, scrawny ass. Besides, it's not like much of his modesty has survived the last two years of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll that have been his life.

By the time he's back under the covers, his nurse has turned around and is walking back over to the door. A bone-deep exhaustion has begun to seep into his body, slowly dragging him back under, but seeing her walk out of the room gives him a burst of energy.

"Wait! Someone needs to tell me what happened. What am I doing here?"

Embarrassment burns hot under his skin as he hears the tears in his voice, but the sound of it breaking at his question makes Nurse Elli stop. She turns back to him and her eyes are much kinder than before.

"The doctor will be with you shortly. He'll explain everything to you, Mr. Munson. I'll let him know you're awake now."

And then she leaves, and Eddie sinks back into his bed in the hope that the next time he opens his eyes, it will all have been just a bad dream.

It was not all just a bad dream.

The next time Eddie comes to, he's alone in his room, except for a middle-aged man who seems to be the doctor Nurse Elli told him would be stopping by.

Doctor Owens explains that he overdosed on alcohol and coke at a party at some music producer's house and had been in a coma for two full days. They quickly stabilized him, pumped his stomach and gave him fluids through an IV. Eddie is lucky he's still young and his system recovered from the shock quite well. When he showed signs of waking up, they brought him down here from the ICU to free up his bed for someone who needed it more.

"If Mr. Harrington hadn't called 911 and told them to come get you, you'd be dead right now, Mr. Munson. I'm sorry to say this, but from what I've heard, no one at the party even cared, just insisted that you brought your own drugs and they had nothing to do with it. Mr. Harrington has also been your only visitor so far."

His words should make him angry or sad, something, but he can't process them. Not when his brain is still struggling to make sense of the first part of his statement, Eddie’s heart racing in his chest.

"Mr. Harrington? As in..."

"Steve Harrington, he says he's a close friend. He's the one who called the ambulance, gave the operator your cell phone number so they could track your phone and get you to the hospital. He's been visiting you every day since. He also called your uncle, because we are not allowed to give out any medical information to anyone outside of the family. Your uncle should be here soon, I called him yesterday to give him an update on your condition."

His mind is reeling, too many thoughts fighting for dominance and one word screaming louder than any of them in his head.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

How... it couldn't be. Not after their last fight. Not after the things he said to Steve. To his horror, he feels tears burning hot in his eyes at the memory. A memory he had pushed as far back in his mind as he could because every time he thought about that night he wanted to curl up into a fetal position and cry.

"You are a lucky man, Mr. Munson. This man seems to care a lot about you, as does your uncle. You should let them help you. And if you will allow me to be very clear with you: You need all the help you can get. You're young, so your body can take a lot. But it's not in good shape. You have an old man's liver, and your spleen and kidneys are showing signs of the abuse you put them through. The echo also showed some irregularities in your heartbeat. If you continue down the path you're on, your organs will fail and you will die, Mr. Munson. Painfully. So my advice to you is to get clean as soon as possible. We have some facilities we work with, a nurse will bring you some brochures."

Eddie could only nod numbly, tears now falling freely from his eyes, his throat tight and his head aching. Everything hurt. Especially his heart.

"Okay, we'll keep you here for two more days until we're sure you're stable enough to be on your own." Doctor Owens tells him, turning to leave and get on with his day, as if he hadn't just dropped a damn bomb on his head. He pauses at the door and turns back to him.

"And a word of advice from someone twice your age who's seen a lot in his time here: stick with people who really care about you, like Mr. Harrington, instead of spending your time with people who leave you lying in a bathroom in your own vomit."

With that, he steps out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

Eddie doesn't know how long it's been since Dr. Owens left. It could have been hours, days, weeks, for all he knows, too deep inside his own head to spare any thought for the passing of time. Lying in a hospital bed, the nausea and pain raging through his battered body, Eddie finally breaks down and lets the thoughts come.

He's lost in his memories, thinking about everything that led him here, alone and in pain in a hospital bed, after nearly killing himself with things he swore he'd never use. Weed was fine, though he didn't indulge much anyway, preferring to sell it and make some much-needed money than to smoke it himself. But coke? Nah, he knew how epically stupid it would be to even try that shit.

And yet he did.

A party to celebrate the release of their first single. One lapse in judgment while flying so fucking high that nothing could touch him. One bad decision was all it took for him to succumb to the effects of the white powder.

The high he felt after snorting his first line had been magical and he's been chasing that feeling ever since, blind to all he's sacrificed in the process.

It changed him, he knows. Every euphoric high that made him talk a mile a minute, overly affectionate, loud and brash and in love with the whole world would inevitably end in a crash. He became irritable and hostile toward the people he loved, thinking they were out to get him. Whenever his friends or Wayne or Steve so much as looked at him the wrong way about his new habit, he would lash out at them.

He became increasingly angry and accused them of trying to control him, of envying him his success and happiness.

That's when he started drinking, too. He drank himself stupid so that he wouldn't have to think about the way Steve was starting to look at him as if he didn't even know him anymore. To forget the sad look in Wayne's eyes or the way his friends had started to avoid him. When he was drunk out of his mind, he could forget the way the Coffin boys had started talking about him behind his back, could ignore the murderous looks Robin kept sending his way.

Thinking back, Eddie felt like everything had spun out of his control so fast.

It's like one day he comes home to Steve, ecstatic about signing their first record deal and celebrating the start of a new chapter with the love of his life by dancing around their living room barefoot, laughing and kissing each other, promising happiness and forever.

Only to throw that love right back in Steve's face the next day by calling him needy, clingy, and full of bullshit.

He claimed that Steve was holding him back and that Steve didn't love him, that he just didn't want to be alone. He also said that Steve still thought he was better than Eddie, better than the town freak, the fuck-up, the trailer trash.

You don't want me to succeed and finally step out of your perfect shadow, because then what would stop me from leaving you, right?

Eddie regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Secretly, he had always feared that his success would cause a rift in his relationship with Steve. Eddie had no desire to leave Steve, because Steve was still the best goddamn thing that ever happened to him, but he couldn't help but feel that he was losing him anyway. Even more so when he had seen Steve's face crumble, when he had seen the exact moment when his heart had broken into a million pieces.

He had wanted to take Steve in his arms and apologize for saying cruel things he didn't even believe. It had been his own insecurities that had caused him to lash out, and he had hurt Steve before he had a chance to be hurt himself.

Instead, in true Munson fashion, he had run away and hasn't seen or heard from Steve in six long months that have felt like years.

Steve looks almost exactly the same as he did the last time Eddie saw him.

That's not a good thing, though. Because Steve had been driving himself crazy with worry about Eddie for months before Eddie had taken Steve's heart and torn it apart right in front of him.

Back then he had the same dark circles under his eyes that he has now. The usually golden skin is still too pale and Steve's trademark hair looks even more disheveled from how often he's run his hands through it. His well-fitting jeans, which once hugged his ass just right, now sit baggy on his too-slim frame and Eddie hates it.

He hates that Eddie could still hurt Steve even after he left. That even from a distance he managed to ruin the only person who ever really loved him besides Wayne. There should be some kind of warning sign on him: Beware, do not get attached, will hurt you.

"You're awake," are the first words out of Steve's mouth, and despite everything, Eddie can't stop his heart from responding to the sound of his sweet voice. Steve sounds tired, weary, but to Eddie's ears his voice is better than any Metallica song could ever be.

He tries to smile at him, but he feels as tired as Steve sounds, so it lacks the usual spark.

"Sure am. From what I heard, I have you to thank for that," Eddie adds, unable to help himself. He still doesn't know why and especially how Steve knew he needed help. If this were a Nicholas Sparks novel, their love would have created an invisible bond that made Steve feel when Eddie needed help.

But this is real life, and no matter how much he loves Steve, there is no invisible bond holding them together. Just an unbridgeable chasm.

Steve is still hovering at the door and Eddie thinks he is fighting the urge to wring his hands. Eddie knows his tells by now and he figures Steve isn't sure he's welcome here. Which is ridiculous, because even at his worst, Eddie will always want Steve around, no matter what crap Eddie tells him.

It takes a lot of effort, but Eddie manages to sit up and lean out of bed to pat the chair next to his bed, his eyes never leaving Steve.

Eddie sees Steve's shoulders slump, some of the tension visibly draining from his body at the gesture, and Steve walks over to him and sits down tentatively.

"So..." Eddie begins, dragging out the 'o'. "What happened?"

Steve looks up from his hands in his lap, obviously surprised by the question. "You don't remember?"

"No. The last thing I remember is sitting on a leather couch with a bunch of people I don't know and don't care about, fooling myself into thinking I was having fun." Eddie has had plenty of time to think about his life and where he went wrong, so he decides to stick with honesty. Steve deserves as much and more. "Someone handed me a bottle of whiskey and I opened it and started drinking straight from the bottle. That's the last thing I remember. The next thing I know, I wake up in an ugly bathroom that smells like disinfectant, my whole body hurts like I've been hit by a train, and I have no idea where I am."

Before he can bring himself to say the next part, it's Eddie who has to look away, his eyes focused on his hands playing with the edge of the blanket.

"They told me it was you who called 911 and helped them find me. They said without you I would have died lying in my own vomit." He swallows audibly, tears burning in his eyes, wondering how he could have cried more in the last ten hours than in the last ten years. "They also said you were the only one who came to see me."

Eddie forces himself to look up and into Steve's eyes as he says, "Thank you, Steve. You didn't... I don't deserve you doing this. Not after..." The words die in his throat and he feels like he's choking on them.

He can't do this. He's a fucking coward, not worth saving. Not even worth looking at someone as good and beautiful as Steve.

There's a crease between Steve's eyebrows that Eddie used to smooth with his thumb and lips every time he saw it, and his fingers itch to do it again.

"You called me," Steve tells him, his own hands playing with the edge of Eddie's blanket. "At the party. You called me from the bathroom. I thought it was a butt call or maybe drunk dialing, I hadn't heard from you in months, Eddie."

Eddie winces at his words, but Steve chooses to ignore it.

"But then you sounded so small on the phone. You called me 'Stevie' and 'sweetheart' and then you started to cry." Steve looks like he's about to cry, too. His eyes are glassy and Eddie gets lost in the way the light breaks in them, gold and brown and green all mixed together.

"You told me you weren't feeling so good, that your stomach hurt and the room was spinning so you had to lie down. Your voice -" And here Steve's own voice breaks, after it had already started to shake badly, and without thinking Eddie grabs Steve's hand and holds it tight.

"I'm here, Stevie. You saved me. I'm okay."

"But you almost weren't!" Steve insists, his voice rising, and Eddie finally understands the depth of Steve's feelings. After all these months, after everything Eddie had said and done, Steve still cared deeply for him.

"You talked like you were dying, Eddie. You weren't drunk dialing, you were calling to say goodbye, asshole. You were telling me all these things that I needed to hear you say for months. But I wanted to hear them with you in the room so I could punch you in the face and then kiss it better. Not like this. Not as your last words over a fucking phone call."

That's when Steve breaks down, the tears finally overflowing and he buries his face on the bed at Eddie's hip, their joined hands pressed against his wet cheek.

"Baby," Eddie whispers, shocked, his own heart aching worse than ever as he begins to run his fingers through Steve's messy hair. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm so, so sorry, Stevie. I never meant to hurt you, but it seems like that's all I did."

Taking a deep breath, Eddie continues. "I don't know what I told you on the phone, but since I woke up I've had time to think about it all. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you. Or to Wayne and the kids, Gareth and Jeff and Grant. If I will ever deserve your forgiveness, but I want to try. I want to deserve it one day. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but... I will go to rehab. I will quit drugs and alcohol, I will clean up my act. And then, if you let me, I will try to make it up to you every single day for the rest of our lives."

Steve slowly lifts his head from the bed and looks at him, searching Eddie's eyes for something.

"Why?" Steve asks, his hand gripping Eddie's even tighter.

There are so many reasons, so many things Eddie wants to say, but in the end there is only one simple answer.

"Because I love you."

The smile on Steve's face tells him it's the right answer, even more so when Steve presses a kiss into his palm. But then he turns serious once more.

"I haven't forgiven you yet, Eddie. You hurt me too much and I need time. But I need you to stop trying to run away from me. I don't want you to go to rehab and clean yourself up before you come back to me. I want to be with you every step of the way. Do it together. Because if you love me, you have to let me take care of you. You have to let me in, Eddie. Let me carry you for once, like Sam carried Frodo when he couldn't go on. Trust me not to let you fall. Please."

"Did you really just make a reference to Lord of the Rings?" Eddie demands and Steve rolls his eyes.

"Is that what you get from everything I just said?"

Eddie sobers up immediately. "No, it just made me fall a little bit more in love with you, and I didn't think that was possible."

"So what do you say?" Steve asks, chewing his lip between his teeth, and Eddie suspects he's not even breathing.

"It's going to suck, Stevie," Eddie says in a quiet voice, stroking Steve's knuckles with his thumb."Are you sure?"

"Yes." No hesitation, no wavering in his voice. It's the same tone, the same determined look on his face as when he told Eddie "Fuck'em," when Eddie told him people in their small-minded town would talk if Steve held his hand in public.

"There's a bunch of brochures of places to check out. Wanna help me pick the least horrible one?" Eddie says, pointing to the table in the corner of the room.

Without another word, Steve gets up to grab them, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie allows himself to hope.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #rockstar eddie munson #cw drugs #steddielovemonth #day 1 #love is letting someone take care of you #my writing

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jeepersjpeg · 2 months ago

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u have like .. really good taste in media , so do u have any movie recommendations ?

my top favorites right now (in order)

1. I Saw The TV Glow (heartwrenching "coming-of-age"/psychological horror/wait.. he's "coming-of-age" so quickly--? Time wasn't right. It was moving too fast. I was 19, then I was 20, then I was 21. Like chapters skipped over on a DVD. I told myself, this isn't normal. This isn't normal. This isn't how life is supposed to feel. I thought about r-- really good movie if you haven't seen it already)

2. Possessor (trippy, violent sci-fi psychological horror. i wrote a song about this one. ive seen it around 5 times now and not a day goes by where i don't think of it.)

3. The Poughkeepsie Tapes (50% satirical mockumentary commentating on how america glorifies its serial killers, 50% found-footage horror, you'll need to look up warnings for this one [or just ask me, ive seen it 4 times, i can give you in-depth CW's without spoilers].)

4. Horse Girl (a girl's spiraling descent into conspiracy. trippy, mystery thriller)

other favorites in no specific order

• Antiviral (another Brandon Cronenberg film, sci-fi thriller, taking parasocial relationships to a whole new level)

• The PowerPuff Girls Movie (underrated and one of my favorite PPG-related things ever next to the now-banned rock opera episode, See Me Feel Me Gnomey)

• Longlegs (paranormal mystery horror film, an FBI agent gets more than she bargained for when delving into a new case. ASK ME ABOUT OZ PERKINS AND NICHOLAS CAGE'S PERSONAL CONNECTION TO THIS FILM AND HOW IT SAVED THE FILM ITSELF FOR ME AND MADE IT GO FROM "A WEE BIT DISAPPOINTING BUT STILL GOOD" TO "TOP FAVORITE" BECAUSE OF HOW IT IMPACTED THE WAY I VIEW IT... IF YOU DARE..)

• Catsoup (silent japanese cartoon, short film, you can find it on youtube! two cats go on a magical, somewhat dark, adventure. visually stunning)

• The Brave Little Toaster (the only disney film that will ever grace my favorites list. incredible. the anthropomorphization of objects is stellar, the characters i could go on and on about-- and the songs are fucking great. shoutout to mass car suicide [Worthless]. also this movie inspired one of my OC stories [Curtain Call].)

• I'm Thinking Of Ending Things (adaptation of my favorite book, very different from the book but i think it brings some excellent things to the table and tells it in a very cool way. psychological thriller, mystery. Jesse Plemons is in it, they grabbed him off the set of Breaking Bad and forgot to tell him he wasn't still playing Todd. [< compliment])

• Baby Driver (anyone who hates this movie doesn't know how to have fun. action-comedy, incredible soundtrack that is SYNCED TO THE HAPPENINGS IN THE FILM, main character is an autistic CODA who i love very much, i have a deep personal connection with this movie because of the person i watched it with and the impact it had on us.)

• I Don't Feel At Home In This World Anymore (action-comedy, crime, awkward girl and her awkward neighbor [who just met her but would kill and die for her] get in over their heads trying to retrieve a stolen laptop.)

• Poltergeist (1982, my ma's favorite horror film and one of mine too. paranormal, visually stunning, the practical effects are so fucking cool. also im decently sure it was inspired by Little Girl Lost, an episode of The Twilight Zone, because it's like a more fleshed-out version of that concept.)

• Home Movie (2008, it's on youtube, i can't remember if it's like overall good but it's the only instance thus far in which i think the "evil child" trope is done well so it makes my favorites list)

• Whiplash (ARE YOU RUSHING OR ARE YOU DRAGGING?!)

• Nightcrawler (crime thriller, guy's spiraling descent into abandoning all morals for the sake of his obsessive new project, and the gripping horrific ways that this choice affects those around him)

• Dread (2009, violent horror, guy's spiraling descent into abandoning all morals for the sake of his obsessive new project, and the gripping horrific ways that this choice affects those around him)

• Raggedy Ann And Andy : A Musical Adventure (on youtube, an animated childhood favorite that still holds up. shoutout to the blue camel)

aaaand some others im prooobably forgettinggg..? tried to include a bit of as many genres i could think of, since most of my favorites are horror :)

#jeepers speak #answered

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fibula-rasa · 1 year ago

Text

Cosplay the Classics: Elizabeth Montgomery in “Two”

“Two” first aired on 15 September 1961 and is the first episode of the third season of The Twilight Zone. Sadly, “Two” is the only episode that features Elizabeth Montgomery.

Montgomery was nearly ten years into her professional career in 1961. She had already carved out a solid resume in television, appearing prolifically on anthology and episodic shows and occasionally stretched her legs on the New York stage. Samantha Stephens was still three years away when Montgomery took her voyage through The Twilight Zone.

In its five seasons, The Twilight Zone was a crossroads of up-and-coming and well-established performers. “Two” paired the rising star Montgomery with Charles Bronson, who had a decade more acting experience in TV and film than Montgomery. Though Bronson was the more established star, “Two” is Montgomery’s showcase.

Read on below the jump!

“Two” relies on minimal dialogue throughout and notably Montgomery only has a single line spoken. The role relies almost entirely on Montgomery’s action/reaction, expression, and styling. The episode begins on Montgomery as The Woman wandering an abandoned city. The first nine minutes of the episode pass with no dialogue, with context given by visual elements and Serling’s opening narration. The entire episode takes place on a small section of city street (at the old Hal Roach studios, conveniently already in disrepair).

We learn through newspapers and magazines that this city is in The Man’s homeland, invaded by The Woman’s nation’s army. Signs of the city’s long five-year abandonment are everywhere, including full skeletons left where they fell. (The macabre element of skeletons is used sparingly across the Twilight Zone and usually in circumstances less grounded in reality than “Two,” such as “Long Live Walter Jameson” and “Queen of the Nile.”) As The Man mulls over his first encounter with The Woman a dove flies up behind him as a symbol of his genuine desire for peace. Through a variety of posters and advertisements, we learn that The Man’s homeland had a culture heavily invested in war.

Collage of the war-related paraphernalia in “Two”

All of that is solid storytelling, but Montgomery’s acting adds an extra something. When The Woman first encounters The Man, Montgomery performs hair-trigger reactivity. Despite The Woman’s dire situation—a stranded foreigner in a decimated country with seemingly no chance to ever return home—her reluctance to trust The Man is significant. Pairing Montgomery’s wordless portrayal of these responses with the jingoistic quality of The Man’s homeland and the notable length of time that the city has been abandoned makes me feel that her feelings might not be a simple holdover of wartime hostility on her part but potentially extended trauma. Perhaps The Woman had previous awful experiences with other straggling remnants of The Man’s military, who may not have been as ready as The Man to give up wartime attitudes in spite of the war clearly being over.

The Woman is understandably acting like a cornered animal. As the episode progresses, The Man tries to be as calculated as possible in communicating to The Woman that he doesn’t want a fight through his actions, turning his back to her, and not retaliating the third time she launches an attack on him. Montgomery, in turn, does a great job of drawing out the cornered animal characterization—alternating between curiosity, hope, mistrust, and open hostility. Montgomery’s characterization gives the role the added dimension that saves the episode from feeling too much like an overly simple fable.

Unfortunately, it’s in executing the fabular aspect of the story where “Two” falters. The opening narration by Serling specifies:

“It’s been five years since a human being walked these streets. This is the first day of the sixth year as man used to measure time. “The time: perhaps a hundred years from now, or sooner, or perhaps it’s already happened two-million years ago. The place: The signposts are in English so that we may read them more easily, but the place is The Twilight Zone.”

It’s established here that the location is meant to be a stand-in for any city in any country, and that the use of English is merely a storytelling convenience. So, even though “Two” is intended as a Cold-War era anti-war statement, they are intentionally distancing the fiction from the contemporary real-world conflict. To create further distance from a contemporary place/time, they establish that the rifles are laser guns.

But, then, that one line that Montgomery speaks in “Two,” seventeen minutes in, is “Prekrasny” or “прекрасны,” a Russian word for beautiful or pretty. This pretty much grinds to a halt the concept that this is a cautionary fable and not a vision of a dark future where the Soviet Union and the United States moved to open warfare. While I’ll admit that the conventions used to establish “Two” as a fable are cheeky and a little on the corny side, the episode itself would have been stronger without the suggestion that The Woman is Russian.

I’m not sure who made the call to use a Russian word. I wonder if perhaps Serling wrote his introduction and he had a different read on the story than its writer, Montgomery Pittman. Maybe Pittman intended “Two” to be more of a dark premonition with a twist of optimism and Serling thought of it more as a fable and the two approaches hampered each other in the final product? This is pure speculation on my part of course, but it’s a black mark on what I think could have been an even better episode than it is.

Regardless, I think “Two” is a strong episode and a fine example of a Serling-esque story written by someone brought on to lighten the load of Serling, who worked himself to the bone on Twilight Zone. I also appreciate Pittman’s confidence to rely so heavily on visual storytelling techniques, taking into account that the high quality at which we watch the show now does not reflect the quality home viewers would have had in 1961. It reflects both Serling and the producers belief that viewers would be fully engaged in watching the show as it aired rather than just passively having it on in the family room while unwinding after dinner.

Elizabeth Montgomery’s performance heightens the whole affair considerably. That’s no shade on Charles Bronson, in fact I think the monologuing he’s given could have come off as unbearably hokey if delivered by a lesser actor.

If you can believe it, this is my very first time cosplaying The Twilight Zone! (Though I did play Rod Serling in a set of sketches in high school. I was as weird as a teenager as I am an adult, okay?) If you didn’t already know, I run another blog called Twilight Zone in Close-ups, examining the powerful use of close-up shots on the show by testing out how much of each episode’s story can be communicated solely by its close-up shots.

☕ Buy me a coffee! ☕

#1960s #1961 #elizabeth montgomery #the twilight zone #Twilight Zone #rod serling #classic television #television #closet cosplay #cosplay #television history #OTD #science fiction #speculative fiction #horror #1960s tv #tv

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 1 month ago

Note

i’m not the person who originally asked but part two of cupids chokehold where the jackass boys meet y/n maybe?? if not thats cool!!

Cupid’s Chokehold (Pt. 2)

When a Viva la Bam episode brings the cast back together, the cast finally meet this mystery girl and find out what Bam sees in this woman.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

3.6 Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, drug use, misogyny if you squint, jealousy, clingyness, possessive behavior, tampering with food, injury

An: Thank you so much for the request!! I really try to write my guys as ‘in character’ as posible, but I also find it really fun to explore what kinds of circumstances might make them act otherwise :] Anyways, thank you for sending requests and please keep them coming!

The reason you met the guys in the first place was due mostly in part to a group of MTV executives who, given Steve and Chris’ recent success with Wildboyz and the premiere date of that big movie Knoxville was in creeping closer, thought that now would be the best time for a crossover episode with Bam’s show; consider it a Jackass reunion. This was a shock to you- hell, you thought that the last movie would be the end of Jackass and you could go along with your life following your boyfriend's fifteen seconds running out. But you know how things go: one thing leads to another and all of a sudden you were appearing in living rooms across the country on MTV’s hottest new program: Viva La Bam.

When Johnny, Chris, and Steve (the only cast members MTV wanted for the episode) arrived to the compound of chaos that was Castle Bam, it appeared that their absent host was a bit tied up, far too distracted spreading his lawn and crashing into his buddies on four wheelers to even notice that they were there. At the time, you were in the kitchen watching everything go down, so you scampered outside to wave the guys in. “So we have an empty bed upstairs in the guest room,” you showed them around the castle, taking them through everything they would need to know, “but i think one’a you’s gonna be stuck on the floor for a couple nights…” The whole time you were giving them the tour, there was this collective murmur about this weird lady in Bam’s house; maybe she was his maid or a cleaning lady- or an assistant! But before they could make any further assumptions, there your boyfriend comes in, making his grand entrance clamoring in through the kitchen window. Bam flashed the guys a grin, “Oh! You guys already met Y/N!”

Given how much Bam talked about you, the cast all put together this idea of how they thought you would look, this Frankensteined amalgamation of celebrities: Beyoncé’s face with Pamela Anderson’s tits, legs like Jessica Rabbit (thanks, Chris), and a personality like Bridget from the Girls Next Door. So it’s safe to say that jaws hit the floor. This woman he’s been obsessing over for months is this…normal looking?

The air crackled with charged silence for a moment before Steve, who wasn’t totally with it mentally at that moment thanks to whatever he took before the plane ride there, blurted out what everyone else was thinking, “Wait, that’s Y/N? Like- your girlfriend, Y/N?” “Yeah!” A hint of indignation crept into Bam’s tone at what he was actually asking with that question and his face reflected this as he retorted, “She’s super hot, sweet as hell- and she has got the finest ass I’ve ever seen!” Your boyfriend punctuated his words with an affectionate swat to your behind, and you giggled at his sleazy behavior while all the guys were left wondering what kind of Twilight Zone shit was going on. “Alright, alright!” Still lightly blushing, you hurried them off, “Let’s get you boys settled in before you start trashing the place…”

Given the fact that it was summer, it was a perfect time to film some stuff outside. Due to the juvenile, scripted nature of Viva la Bam, the premise created would’ve fit well in any teen b-movie: Bam was having a pool party with his bros that out of nowhere the Jackass guys happened to crash when they decided to stop by, which leads to him getting revenge via spending the day pranking them- think of it as a CKY vs. Jackass turf war. Ignoring how unrealistic it was, you thought it would make for a pretty entertaining episode.

The sun-kissed opening scene looked straight out of some demented David Hockney painting: Ryan, lounging on a pool chair next to his pile of cans while Raab and Rake tried to drown each other in the pool and Dico quietly tapped away at some handheld gaming system under an umbrella (because the story producers on the show had a tendency to dumb his personality down to ‘liking video games’ when he wasn’t participating in the madness). Speaking of the story producers, it was their idea to put you in that cute little black bikini and those blingy, bug-eyed sunglasses, not that you minded showing off as you tip-toed down the deck steps with an oversized fancy fruit tray in your hands. “Hey boys! I got the-“

Without warning, the guys came charging in, water guns blazing! A cold blast of water courtesy of Knoxville’s super soaker startled you and you let out a dramatic yelp, playing your shock up for the cameras. He yelled across the yard to you with feigned disregard as he redirected his attention to the idiots in the pool, “Sorry, ma’am!” Following close behind was Chris, armed with a Costco-sized bottle of suntan lotion. He was not sorry about absolutely dousing Dunn in the sticky, coconut scented goo with a chuckle, unable to resist a filthy incendio, “Don’t worry, man! It came from a bottle- none’a that homemade stuff!” Not seeming nearly as pissed off as you would expect, Ryan simply groaned, wiping off his eyelids, “Better not be- now I smell like a damn pina colada…” Pontius flashed that sweet dopey grin and continued his attack, splattering some haphazardly across your body as Steve, knew how to make these childish antics look fun, cackled like a madman as henailed Dico from across the pool deck, knocking his handheld out of his hands and leaving it to sputter and fizz on the ground. “Dude! You drenched my GameBoy- my sweet, old-school GameBoy!”

Right as Steve was going to ask who the hell even uses a GameBoy in 2004, guess who came charging out of the house? “What the hell is goin’ on out here?” Padding down the deck stairs in those black swim trunks that sat real low on his hips was your boyfriend, rushing to your side and swiping up a bit of the lotion with his finger to examine. Johnny flashed him that movie star smirk, “Hey, Bam! Nice t’see ya!” Meandering up next to you, it was a scene straight out of some Animal Planet documentary with the two males fighting over the female of the pack, as he leaned in with provocativity heavy in his tone, “I could rub some’a that in if you’d like…” Though Bam was better than Knoxville at dramatizing things for TV, it was clear that there was some real jealousy behind the way he pulled you closer with a hand around your waist as if he couldn’t even stand the thought of another guy near you, “Keep your hands off’a my girl.” He spat, looking him up and down with more than feigned venom in his gaze behind those dark sunglasses, “It’s settled then. This is war!”

That night, the only sounds to be heard from the other side of the door of the dinky little attic/guest bedroom the three of them were all stuffed in tinned fish style was the repetitive thumping of Bam jumping off the second story balcony onto the couch, oniy to run up the stairs and do it all over again. Johnny groaned, leaning his head back into the hard pillows, “God…how does she put up with this?” While your boyfriend banged around the ceiling like some jacked up, oversized moth, you were sitting peacefully on the couch, watching TV as if nothing were amiss. Steve bunched up the jacket he was using as a pillow and sighed from his spot on the floor, “Beats me. Maybe she’s a gold digger or somethin’.” But while Bam is an idiot, he's not dumb enough to fall for some chick who’s just in it for the money. It had to be something else- love? “She’s a saint- that’s what she is...” Johnny shook his head and Chris piped in with his own opinion, “I think she’s hot!”

When he’s not causing chaos and buzzing around like a little kid off five Mellow Yellows, Bam can be quite the sweetheart, especially when it gets late at night and everything dies down, the same way dogs quiet down when you put a blanket on their cage. He’s desperate for your attention normally, but when you’re in his bed, laying by his side, it’s as if all every ounce of ego melts out of his ears. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck the way an overly affectionate cat might, your boyfriend murmured with a lovesick smile plastered on his face, “Mmm…missed you, babe.” This was your nightly routine: Bam, in his flannel pajama pants and no shirt, cuddling up to your side with no regard for personal space and endlessly fussing over you. You let out a breathless chuckle, raking your fingers through his hair, “I was with you all day!” His clinginess bordered on excessive sometimes, but you didn’t mind. There was satisfaction to be found in how whipped he was for you- dead and buried, you had Bam Margera under your thumb, and honestly he wouldn’t have it any other way. Arms slipping around your ribs, he shifted against you with a soft whine, “Yeah, still…”

Just as he was about to feebly defend himself, your boyfriend was cut off by this shriek from next door that could’ve rivaled any horror movie final girl. Guessing this was Bam’s doing, you sat up and whipped your head around, “What the hell was that?” Judging by the mischievous little glint in his eye that shone through the darkness, you guessed right. “Oh yeah- I sent Don Vito over there in his tighty-whities to surprise em’.” You could see it in your head as if you were there: down the hall stumbled Vito, clad solely in his underwear, cracking open the door to the guest room and laying down next to whoever was nearest- in this case, judging by the, “Fuck-fuck fuck, dude!” trailing down the hall, it was Steve. Nobody wants to be woken up by a grown man they’ve never met snuggling up next to them, so you couldn’t really blame him for whatever revenge he may innact, but in your head all you could do was hope they wouldn’t retaliate with something worse that night.

The strike came in the morning, as you groggily blinked awake to your boyfriend's terrified yelps, “Y/N- Y/N! Get the fuck up- I’m not even joking!” You rubbed the blurriness out of your eyes to find him back up against the wall with eyes as wide as gum balls, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gawked at what sat atop the hurriedly tossed aside sheets on his side of the bed: a garden snake, not longer than one foot in length and perfectly harmless judging by the way the damn thing wasn't really doing anything. Inching along to the door, he tried the handle again, his voice cracking just barely perceptibly, “Dude- dude, this is so not funny! Let me the fuck out.” But all he was met with was snickering as someone on the other end (Chris, you assumed) held it shut. At the same time, you calmly grabbed the snake by the head to gently pick it up and set it outside before returning to Bam, your voice staying soft and level knowing how much this shit gets to him, “There, it’s gone.” But, turning away from him, your calming platitudes turned into you yelling through the plywood, banging, “C’mon, guys! Open the fuckin’ door!” Eventually they relented, and since you were leaning against the door and Bam was clinging to your side, the two of you went tumbling to the floor which you had to admit looked pretty funny on camera. Bam shot a glare at Knoxville who stood with a sheepish grin at Pontius’ side before he stumbled to his feet, “You fuckers are dead!”

A good amount of Bam’s genius prank ideas actually came from you, even if on camera it was made to appear as if he was some evil mastermind of mischief. You got this one- one of your best, actually- after you overheard a conversation between Knoxville and Steve. “God, do I miss April’s cooking... It's a shame our lazy asses slept in so late.” Before Steve could say that it sure beats the gas station coffee and doughnuts they eat on the road while filming, you piped in, “Hey- I could go pick up some burgers if you’d like!” And they just gave you their orders, not expecting anything from you!.

Scampering out of the room and trying to hide your excitement, you let the rest of the CKY crew in on your plan, where it was elected that Dico would be the culinary mastermind behind this operation.

As Raab pulled out of the McDonalds drive through, you and Bam sat in the backseat where he was supposed to be manning the handheld. Supposed to be- because he was dedicating most of his attention to you, staring at you with those big, adoring eyes, “You are a genius, Y/N…” The guys usually tried to keep you apart in case things like this happened. He got snapped out of his fawning by a sharp elbow to the side, courtesy of Rake, “Dude- film the food!” Scrambling with the camcorder, Bam shot over Dico’s shoulder as he began working his magic. Whistling the French Chef theme to himself, he fished around in his pockets for the micleanious continent packets he grabbed from the house and you would’ve thought he was making Coq au Vin with the precision and love you could feels in how he smothered that food in a sloppy mess of grape jelly, sweet n sour sauce, and ranch dressing. Turning to the backseat, Bran held up the double cheeseburger in his hand the way those ladies on QVC show off shitty dinnerware, “Wait, is this Steve-O’s?” Receiving an affirmative, this look of vindictive glee flashed across Dico’s face as he leaned down and spat onto the patty before squishing the top bun on top and wrapping the whole disaster up, proclaiming in a faux French accent, “Bon appetit!”

Ryan was bestowed the honor of delivering the tainted food and also got the privilege of having a front row seat to the golden reactions you were sure you’d get. Speaking with a mouthful of food, Johnny was the first to say anything about it, chewing his burger like unappreciative, doomed cattle, “Hey, something’s kinda…off about these.” Luckily Dunn, who thinks of everything, quickly cobbled together an explanation, “You’re just not used to burgers from Pennsylvania- they’re all like that.” From behind the wall Bam, Dico, and you were hiding, you held back snickers at the hint of suspicion that crept across Knoxville’s features as he turned to Steve, “Doesn’t that taste weird t’you?” You were most excited to see his reaction, but he didn’t really have much of one, quickly scarfing his food down to mumble, “Yeah, but I’m fuckin’ hungry!” To your collective disappointment, the plan didn’t elicit the reactions you anticipated, no matter how cathartic it felt to watch them eat that shit. Nobody was more disappointed than Bam who threw his hands up in frustration and stormed out the back door with a groan, “Fuck it- I’m goin’ skatin’.

Having you around while your boyfriend was skating was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because you were his greatest cheerleader and always stared at him with such awe in your eyes, completely enraptured by his skills- which would make anyone feel pretty damn good about themselves. It was a curse, however, in the way that if Bam wasn't totally consumed by what he was doing, his attention was devoted to impressing you to the point he was liable to break something. That’s why he didn’t notice the fact that his trucks were a little loose until the third time he walled off the board and took a nosedive into the plywood.

Right away, you rushed to his side, even though he repeatedly assured you he was fine, “Are you okay, Bam? That last one looked pretty nasty…” Rubbing the spot on his head that bounced off the ramp, he shot you a pained smile, “Yeah- yeah, m’alright…gotta tighten these trucks, though.” Leaning forward, your boyfriend planted a sweet kiss on your cheek before heading inside, “Be right back.” Sitting down at his desk, Bam scrounged around in the drawer that he usually stowed his Alan key in, only for it not to budge. It took a few seconds for it to dawn on him what happened: the damn thing was glued down. Those fuckers…grumbling to himself, he remembered that other board he had set up a couple weeks ago and decided to just deal with the other one later. Which is what he would’ve done, if that one didn’t also have loose trucks.

This required some serious, swift- chemical retribution. But for the time being you needed to play it cool and keep up appearances, so you and the rest of the guys spent the afternoon inside playing video games. You didn’t mind, because you found it hilarious to watch them argue about benign shit. Dico, the Mortal Kombat scholar and by all means a god at that game, was getting his ass handed to him, “Dude- you’re button mashing! That shit isn’t fair.” Bam just snickered, showing his distaste for what was fair and rules in general by doing random combos, not even looking at his hands. Everyone was laughing and enjoying watching him hit five Nut Crackers in a row, when from the bathroom at the far end of the hall, there was this massive boom, as if someone just set off an entire box of illegal fireworks.

Which is what you would’ve assumed happened if it was Bam’s idea, but you knew this plan was Rake’s doing, who spent the greater part of the last hour rigging up a minor explosive device in there which was triggered by lifting the toilet lid. Essentially, if you went to piss, you would be covered in whatever shit was in that device. As indicated by the white powder that coated every inch of Chris as he stumbled out, totally dazed, it was flour. He just chuckled with that ditzy smile on his face, “Woah…” and you knew your plan was a success.

There was only one scene left to film for the episode, and at this point, the guys were barely holding it together. Being in Castle Bam for any amount of time forced Johnny, Chris, and Steve to be on constant high alert, like some kind of torture method that was definately banned by the geneva conventions. The lot of you sat clustered around the dining table, hunched over the food April lovingly cooked for and scarfing it down the way sailors eat on the off chance someone decided to taint yet another meal. Standing up from his food, Johnny looked across the table with bags under his eyes from the constant chaos he had endured over the course of the two days you were filming, “Alright, Bam- I think we’ve done enough pranks to each other and we should just call this whole thing even.” Your boyfriend gave the cameras that malicious look he always did when he had some scheme in mind before he shot Knoxville a diplomatic nod, “Alright. But I don’t think we’re quite even-“ and with that, Bam swiftly grabbed a fist of corn and potatoes and hurled it across the table, and I mean- there’s only so many places that could go. Yep, in seconds, things escalated into an all out food fight, and while laughered roared out and peas and carrots soared through the air, you seemed, yet again, completely unaffected by it.

Once the plates were emptied, Bam stood up with this giddy smile on his face, wiping off a gob of whatever was stuck to his face, “Alright! Let’s go build a bonfire in the backyard!” And without a second thought, everybody flooded out the back door, leaving you with the mess. Well, you and Johnny, who stayed back and had a few questions for you. “I’d hate to intrude, ma’am- but…“ following you into the kitchen, Knoxville carefully phrased his next words, speaking with genuine empathy in his voice, “why on earth do you put up with him? I mean, with all the chaos, and the mess…Bam doesn’t really seem t’pitch in as much as you do.“ Standing up from where you bent under the sink to grab some cleaning supplies, you glanced up at him with a calm, assured smile, “Oh, he’d help out if I asked. Watch-“

Throwing open the back door with a whoosh, you shouted out, “Bam! Come inside and help me clean up!” While you didn’t hear him, you could see your boyfriend say something to the other guys who looked around with confusion plastered on their faces as Bam turned around and dashed up the deck stairs. It was as if you cast some evil spell on their buddy Bam that made him do your bidding, even if your bidding in this case was scrubbing mashed potatoes off of the wall. Still, they followed behind him and let you direct where they needed to help out- he seemed so happy to be with this girl, so they kept their mouths shut and got to cleaning.

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #ryan dunn #steve o #chris pontius #chris raab #rake yohn #jackass fanfiction #brandon dicamillo #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader #johnny knoxville x reader

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years ago

Text

Safe

Summary: “You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened twenty years ago. It was not your fault. You are allowed to move on. You are allowed to care for other people And no matter how much you tell yourself that she’s only Cargo. You care for her.”

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: G

Warnings: !spoilers for episode 6 of TLOU!, established relationship, mostly fluff, domestic fluff I would almost say, little angst, talking about feelings, comfort, some touching, mention of periods

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new fic updates

It was almost scary how normal everything in Jackson was. The old normal, not the new normal.

The moment you had seen the fully decorated christmas tree you felt like you were in the twilight zone.

You had arrived earlier with Joel and Ellie on horseback, almost making Joel laugh as you sang “Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson, Look out, Jackson town,” against his ear, fully intending to bully him into singing the Johnny Cash song at some point when you found a guitar for him.

If you were honest you would have never thought you actually would find Tommy. Then again you should know better by now.

Joel Miller could not be stopped once he set his mind towards something.

You had given them space.

Time for them to catch up and talk.

Something in Joel had changed after Kansas City. More than once you had caught him staring at Ellie when he thought nobody was watching.

You knew why.

This was not just a job anymore or a promise to fulfil.

He was starting to care.

Years ago when you had come into his life, it had been the same. Once he realised that he was starting to feel something for you.

It had taken almost a year for him to admit that he had feelings for you too.

Joel was afraid.

Afraid of catching feelings.

Afraid of letting himself care for people.

Afraid of moving on.

The first time he had spoken about Sarah was almost four years after you had met him.

You had made the mistake of asking about his watch, genuinely curious. He had looked at you like he had been shot before uttering an excuse under his breath and leaving your then shared apartment.

He came home after curfew, smelling of liquor.

And then he started to talk.

Joel and you…

He was your person.

He was the one thing that kept you going in this fucked up world.

The one person who made you feel safe, no matter what was happening around you.

The man you, against all odds, had fallen in love with while the world was ending.

And you were the one person he allowed himself to be fully himself with. He let you see the good and the bad.

It’s why you knew that it would only be a matter of time he would do or say something stupid.

The house was quiet when you finished your shower. You had said goodnight to Ellie before you went to the master bedroom, getting out of your filthy clothes and allowing yourself to just soak under the hot water.

Maria had spent the whole day showing you around and providing new clothes. She even offered to give you a haircut.

You did not like the way she talked about Joel. She knew only one side of the story, but you had chosen to not start an argument only hours after getting to safety.

For the first time in six years you shaved, using the razor you had found under the sink.

You felt like in the twilight zone as you pulled the big, surprisingly fluffy towel around your body, grabbing the bottle of shea butter you had almost cried as you spotted it and walked back into the bedroom.

You sat down on the bed with a sigh, closing your eyes.

Tonight would probably be the first night since leaving the QZ you might get a full night of sleep.

Pulling the towel down you opened the bottle to start and rub the lotion into your skin.

The familiar scent invaded your nose, making you remember better days when your biggest problem was deciding what takeout to order while you watched the newest episode of Friends.

Fuck, you never found out how it ended.

Chuckling to yourself you shook your head, slowly working your hands up your body.

You jumped when you heard voices all of the sudden, your eyes flying around the room to spot the closest gun before you noticed who it was.

Joel and Ellie.

You could not make out what they were saying but it did not sound like a pleasant talk. Setting the bottle of lotion on the bedside table you grabbed the towel to walk back to the bathroom to hang it up to dry.

You put on an old tshirt to sleep, switching off the lights just when the door to the bedroom opened and Joel stepped in.

He closed the door behind him, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

You sucked your bottom lip in.

“Hey,” you whispered. His eyes opened, finding yours. You could see tears in them.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

“Are you…” you started to ask but he shook his head and walked past you into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You suppressed a sigh, deciding to give him space as you climbed into the most comfortable bed you had laid in in years, pulling the covers over you, falling asleep within minutes.

You woke up when Joel got into bed behind you. His nose nuzzled into your neck, kissing your shoulder softly, as his arm pulled you against his chest.

You allowed yourself to melt into his warm embrace, putting your hand over his that laid on your stomach.

“I asked Tommy to take her to the Fireflies,” he said. You closed your eyes.

“Joel…”

“I’m old. I’m tired and I’m… I’m fucking scared. I can’t….” he took a shuddering breath and your heart broke. Carefully you turned around, your hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“Look at me baby,” you said and his eyes opened, finding yours in the soft light that came from the lamp on the bedside table.

“She’s not Sarah,” you whispered. He tensed, like everytime someone mentioned her.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened twenty years ago. It was not your fault. You are allowed to move on. You are allowed to care for other people And no matter how much you tell yourself that she’s only Cargo. You care for her.”

He sighed, his arm around you tightening to pull you even closer.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said quietly.

“The heart wants, what the heart wants,” you smiled.

You kissed his nose, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“You should apologise to her,” you said.

“How do you…?”

“Joel, I’ve been dealing with your moods for almost six years. You probably said something you didn’t mean. I learned to deal with it, but she’s fourteen. And she has no one but you.”

And she’s on her period, but you chose to not tell him that.

“She has you too,” he whispered.

“Yeah, but I did not piss her off,” you smiled softly and he groaned and closed his eyes. You let your hand run through his wet hair, making him hum.

“You smell good,” he said, his nose nuzzling against your throat.

“I am so stealing that lotion when we leave,” you smiled and he chuckled.

“Shaved too. I feel like 2003 all over again,” you closed your eyes.

“You shaved?” he asked and you opened one eye.

“Jep,” you grinned, closing your eye again. You felt his hand run down your legs, his rough hand brushing over your smooth skin. You made a mental note to make him put lotion on his hands in the morning.

“Everywhere?”

“Mhh,” you nodded, feeling his hand go up your inner thigh.

“Joel?” you asked, feeling his fingers brushing over your trimmed pussy.

He hummed.

“Sleep,” you mumbled, feeling his body shake in a silent chuckle. He kissed you softly, pulling the covers up to both your noses.

“I love you,” you whispered just before you fell asleep, missing how he whispered those same three words into your skin.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #tlou #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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siblingskissing · 5 months ago

Note

vance hcs pleeeeease 🤲

Vance Hopper Headcanons

-Momma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boyMomma's boy -Vance has anger issues that I believe are both trauma based and also possibly an undiagnosed disorder/mental health issue. It was the 70s so he likely wouldn't have been diagnosed but you see what I mean -He's not rich but he's also not dirt poor either. I imagine his dad probably has a really nice job and forced his mom to be a housewife/caregiver 24/7. That being said- Vance has a pretty humble mindset when it comes to finances despite the fact -When Vance went missing he was out walking after a fight with his old man- likely had some bruising already when the Grabber tried coaxing him into helping him. I feel like Vance probably didn't try to help but rather tried to fight him and that's how he grabbed him

- (I'm not gonna go into my headcanons for his captivity in this post but I will happily do a separate post if yall want that)

-Vance hates sweets but sour candy has a grip on his soul -He also loves salty foods

-His style is inspired by both his own need to rebel but also his mom's style when she was younger. I think she had hair similar to this:

-I think she actually has dark hair to and the color comes from his dad's side

-Vance actually is really smart and would do well in school if he was given the chance. however, do to both his environment and his temper he can't actually show that -He loves dogs. He prefers cats some days but he likes to feed the stray dogs that sit in the alleys -He loves bananas. Ever since he was a toddler he would munch on them. His mother once got concerned that he had a potassium issue. Nope. Just likes banana -He's allergic to kind of a lot. Cinnamon, peanuts,almonds, eggs, honestly he has a laundry list of allergens that his mom keeps handy -Thankfully most of his allergies (minus the peanuts and almonds) are mostly just irritants so he can still eat things he likes. However those two will kill him. -He likes horror films but isn't huge on them. He'll sometimes sneak into the drive in to watch them but that's more for the rush than the actual film. His favourite horror film is Halloween -I don't have a specific sexuality headcanoned for him. I guess most people would say Pansexual but i think he's unlabelled. He doesn't like many people but if he gets involved with someone? Well, good for them. -chocolate chip pancakes lover -Watches the Twilight Zone with his mom every week. His favorite episode is 'To Serve Man' - Vance always secretly wanted to be a firefighter when he got older. He thought they were cool and when he was like 5 he used to play with his mom that he was a firefighter rescuing her. - His favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. He does not care that it's basic, he likes the simplicity and how its not too sweet. -Same reason he likes dark chocolate. -IDK why but I imagine him as an older brother?? Maybe his mom had a little girl after him or was pregnant when he went missing. -IDK but either way he is so protective. -He hates reading with a passion. He hates silence and he hates being silent the entire time he reads. He does however enjoy when people read to him/he can follow along with someone reading. -Rip vance you would've loved audiobooks -Know how I said he likes horror? He HATES horror stories. They aren't as fun for him and he things they're boring -I imagine he has a very clean room for some reason?? Like he likes things to be in their place, how he likes it and its organized for his needs -Kinda similar in the idea of this?? Like i doubt he has tons of decor but he has what he needs

-Secret art kid. He's really good at drawing but doesn't do it much outside of his room. He prefers traditional pencil drawings since paint leaves too much residue but if he gets his hands on colored pencils? He flourishes. -rip vance you would've loved alcohol markers-

#vance hopper #proship #antis dni #proship community #proship please interact #the black phone #vance hopper headcanons #the black phone headcanons

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synthient · 2 days ago

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"Dead Boyfriend Imagination Theater:" Is the Rogue Novelization the Doctor's Fanfiction?

Or: Here's How Dungeon Master Can Still Win

...behind the Doctor, leaning against the staircase, was Art. There was nothing magical going on here. This was merely the fantastical joy of dead boyfriend imagination theatre. (56)

6 months ago, Rogue (the episode) dropped, and I thought "huh. I think this Rogue guy is the Master."

4 months ago, the first excerpts from the tie-in Rogue novelization (written by Kate Herron and Briony Redman, the screenwriters of the episode) started to hit tumblr, and I thought "huh. This seems like too much lore to drop in a format like this if they're actually planning to bring this character back next season. I wonder if they'd put a fake backstory in the EU to deflect from Rogue being the Master."

A month or so ago, I learned that "Art," the name given for Rogue's dead boyfriend in the novelization, is short for "Artificer." And I thought "huh. That's exactly what the Doctor's dnd class would be. I wonder if this Artificer guy could be a Doctor self-insert."

The present day:

I have the Rogue novelization in hand. I've been taking furious notes. I've got my citations lined up.

And I have at least two theses:

The Doctor is the in-universe author of the Rogue novelization. This is him, coping with the events of the episode by narrativizing it.

Regardless of whether or not I'm right about Thesis 1: I think this novelization's use of subtext, character mirroring, and its intentional divergences from the "canon" episode all point strongly toward Rogue being the (Dungeon) Master, even as the surface text appears to disprove that theory.

Part 1: The Narrator

The basic structure of the Rogue novelization is that it hops between various third-person POVs - Rogue, Ruby, the Doctor, the Chuldurs, their victims - as relayed by an omniscient narrator. This narrator has their own distinct personality and opinions on the proceedings. They like to drop occasional Pratchett-style asterisk asides at the end of a page. I'm just going to go ahead and list off the whole set of them here, and allow you to judge for yourself whose authorial voice this might be:

* Tan France would be shaken. (2)

* To translate, this 19th century party would be to you, our present-day reader, 'quite a good time actually.' You could also say it would be the kind of party that Ezwoob 9002398 would throw (that's a fun reference for our readers in the 30th century; please don't say we haven't considered you). (23)

* Sure, the TARDIS can travel through space and time, but not enough people appreciate its wardrobe options. (31)

* [Can't Get You Out of My Head by Kylie Minogue] is, of course, destined to become Earth's national anthem in 4055. (98)

* By 'we,' we mean those of us who have travelled at least as far as the next solar system and found the nearest corner shop. There's always a corner shop. (151)

* Shadow Proclamation footnote SPZ9-110866701 (154)

Now, this is not, necessarily, a literary device that requires the narrator to "be" any particular in-universe character. It could just as easily be the authorial voice of Herron and Redman themselves.

The narrator's POV hopping also introduces at least one problem with my theory, which I'd like to acknowledge at the outset: The narrator is able to adapt scenes that the Doctor wasn't there for, couldn't have gotten from Ruby afterward, and presumably didn't just invent for this story, because we saw the "objective" version of them in the show (assuming the show is objective. *twilight zone theme*). These are primarily the scenes where the Chuldurs attack their victims.

I have a couple possible answers for this one:

The Doctor's long life experience (plus his hindsight knowledge of what the Chuldurs were up to) allows him to "Sherlock" the Chuldur crime scenes, with close but imperfect accuracy (the book version of events does diverge in a few significant ways from the episode version. We'll get to that).

I'm right about the fanfiction conceit, but wrong about who the author is. For example: if Rogue/the Master was working with the Chuldurs and DM-ing this whole scenario for them, it would make sense for him to have fuller access to the narrative than the Doctor would. However, I have several key reasons to suspect the Doctor over the Master (just one to start us off: this narrator has way too much love and respect for Ruby Sunday for that).

I'm wrong about the fanfiction conceit, but all the Dungeon Master implications I'm about to unpack are still there (and the reality the book presents is unreliable for other reasons...?)

So let's take a look at this book:

Part 2: Imaginary Letters from Dead Boyfriends

Dear Rogue,

It feels silly writing you this letter, but I hope it finds you. So we're clear too, I don't want this to be interpreted as a Please don't mourn for me or some other such nonsense. Honestly, I am quite irritated that it wasn't you that died...

Would I say that? I suppose.

Whatever helps your imagination.

I know you've likely dreamt up and read this letter many times.

I fully understand why; I was a good chat. However, I hope you've made at least one friend since my passing.

Imaginary letters from dead boyfriends can't be your only form of communication. (131)

This letter from Art kicks off the novelization's third act. At risk of sounding too Inception, here's what I'm proposing:

This is an imaginary letter from a dead boyfriend, within an imaginary letter from a dead boyfriend.

I think the letter from Art chapter is the key to unlocking the whole book. The Doctor is trying to move on (that's who he is! That's what he does). He conjures up a vision of Rogue that can encourage him to move on. He puts words in his Rogue-tulpa's mouth. He projects onto this Rogue his own desires and fears, his own biases, his own backstory.

I'm not asking you to just trust me on this one. But I would like to ask you to keep an open mind, and walk with me for a minute.

Come with me, and we'll be, in a world of pure imagination...

Part 3: The Artificer and the Rogue

Where Rogue had charm in spades, Art had a talent for turning a kitchen spoon into a deadly laser ray. He could do anything.

The name Art had also come from Dungeons & Dragons, a shared pastime and passion between them both. Art was short for Artificer; this was a class in the game known for their invention and incredible ability to see the full potential in objects, and it suited Art to a tee.

Rogue could never pin down exactly when the nicknames had started. Like so many things when you've been with someone for a very long time, it had begun as a cute reference, but then the nicknames just became everyday for them until, eventually, the old names just didn't fit any more. They were Rogue and Art to each other. And that suited them both just fine. (111)

You could pretty much just sub "the Master" and "the Doctor" into that last paragraph, right?

We also get these two moments:

Immediately, Rogue panicked. It wasn't his actual name - Rogue was the name that Art had given him - but it would do fine. For now." (41)

It was funny hearing someone else call him that, but his name sounded good being said by the Doctor. Rogue liked it. It fitted. (113)

Which, to me, suggest that "the Doctor" started out as an in-joke with the Master (and vice versa). He introduced himself that way to someone else by accident, then rolled with it for the next several hundred years because "he liked it. It fitted."

This could also be part of why Missy is so insistent that "his real name is Doctor Who!" Every time he uses that name, it's a signal that she still lives rent free in his head (The Master living rent free in the Doctor's head is about to become a pattern here).

It also seems significant to me that "Artificer" contains the word artifice. And his nickname is Art, in a run of Doctor Who that's all about blurring the lines between fiction and reality.

But let's rewind to the start of the book. We first meet Art and and Rogue in a flashback to one of their typical bounty hunter missions.

Rogue is trying to infiltrate Space Coca Cola's evil indentured servitude planet so he can kidnap their CEO.

If the Doctor were trying to imagine the life of a cool, hot, yet moral bounty hunter, I'm pretty sure this would be his wet dream.

There are a couple notable things about how Rogue is characterized in this opening chapter. The first is that he keeps getting described as charming:

The man smiled [...] It was clear that charm came easily to him, even in the early sweaty hours of the morning commute. (3)

The man turned back and flashed a very charming smile (5)

To me, this doesn't really sound like the Rogue we met in the show, who was in full-on grumpy wet blanket Mr. Darcy mode.

It also feels a little odd as a descriptor in an otherwise Rogue POV chapter. "It was clear that charm came easily to him" is pretty clearly the narrator's opinion, not Rogue's.

And the Doctor finds Rogue charming.

The second notable detail: Rogue exclusively employs non-lethal means in his bounty hunting mission. He knocks people back with a "small" force blast. He punches out the Coca Cola security guards. He pulls out his blaster, only to shoot at the scaffolding his opponent is standing on instead of at his opponent. Even when his rival bounty hunters start disintegrating each other, he doesn't try to draw in self-defense.

This doesn't sound very in keeping with Show Rogue, who was ready to incinerate the Doctor on suspicion that he might be a Chuldur.

But it does sound a lot like the Doctor incorporating his own brand of pacifism into his daydream.

Meanwhile, Art is the eye in the sky of this mission. We get his first line (re: Rogue posing as a Coca Cola employee):

'Well, well, well. I thought maybe you'd decided to leave me for a nice stable career' (11)

A very characteristic Doctor fear, expressed in characteristic Doctor-y joke form.

Meanwhile, Rogue flings himself off a building:

This was the pattern they tended to stick to: Rogue making slightly reckless death-defying decisions and his poor lovely partner being the actual hero. (17)

Rogue watched the windows of the tower whip past them and wondered when Art would arrive. Art always did. That was why Rogue loved him; he always came through.

This time, however, the ground below was growing increasingly detailed. Rogue noticed that the red umbrellas on the patio outside the tower had little green stripes on.

Okay, this was getting a bit tight. (19)

Sounds a lot like (the Doctor's view on) the Doctor-companion relationship. He thinks people love him for what he can do for them - being the "real hero" who "always comes through," by saving them when they take risks.

I'm particularly reminded of Clara. To me, Clara "haunts the narrative" of this book almost as much as the Master does. And Clara herself was always a Missy mirror, with her friendship with the Doctor implied to be what the Doctor-Master relationship was like when it was good.

Anyway: Art swoops in to the rescue at the last second. The CEO they kidnapped has to sit through their "lover's spat" about Rogue taking risks that Art won't always be able to save him from. And Rogue reflects:

Art might act like he hated him, but Rogue knew he wouldn't stay angry for too long. Art always came through. (21)

Again, Doctor-coded, and specifically masterdoc-coded. The Doctor might act like he hates the Master, but he won't stay angry for too long.

Part 4: The Divergences

Let me take a step back for a moment. The majority of this book is a direct adaptation of the tv episode. So I want to give a quick overview of some of the changes it makes.

A lot of these changes are just sort of inevitable to the format. There are going to be some tweaks to the dialog, some new scenes, etc in a novelization, because it wouldn't really be worth the price of admission if it were identical to the source material.

But I want to focus on the changes that don't just fill in "missing scenes," but actively contradict what we saw in the episode.

Because there's a notable through-line of these "canon divergences:" they almost all seem to justify, or smooth over, things that were odd or suspicious about Rogue's behavior in the show.

For instance:

In this version, when the Doctor thinks Ruby is dead, Rogue actually stops to comfort him.

Rogue slowly opened his arms, and the Doctor fell into them and sobbed. 'I'm sorry' Rogue said over and over. (184)

This is in sharp contrast to - and, I think, draws even more attention to - Rogue's reaction in the show, where he just sort of 😐-faces his way through the interaction.

The Doctor takes Rogue's blaster from him, snaps it in half, and cannibalizes it for parts to upgrade the triform trap.

This added moment seems to exist exclusively to answer a question @rowanthestrange had about the episode's climax: instead of sacrificing himself to save Ruby, why didn't Rogue just ditch the Doctor's pacifist-torture plan and shoot the Chuldurs?

The description of Rogue's ship calls it a "Frankenstein creation" made from "A patchwork of different metal ship parts." (86) What it very pointedly does not say is that the ship looks like a bird.

Rogue already knows what cosplay is, and doesn't describe it as an "ancient Earth art."

Pronoun trouble: "And then a day came along and at the end of that day...I lost them" becomes "and at the end of that day...I lost him."

This one's really intriguing to me. The use of "them" in the show feels so pointed. I could only really read it one of three ways: 1) Rogue is talking about a they/them. 2) Rogue is being strangely evasive about sharing even a single detail about the person he "lost." Or 3), he's talking about the Doctor. The same way that official DW materials, like the "New to Who" youtube videos, now use they/them when talking about the Doctor in general or across regenerations.

So to me, changing the pronoun to "him" really emphasizes how much the addition of Artificer to this story feels, well...artificial. It's like the Doctor took Rogue's vague, evasive "I lost them" statement, and read everything into it that he wanted to hear. Rogue must have a dead boyfriend. He must be grieving a lost love, just like the Doctor is grieving so many lost loves.

Now. We could take these changes to mean that Herron and Redman only realized in hindsight that parts of the episode were a little suspicious, and scrambled to fix them in the novelization.

But I think these changes exist for the opposite reason. They're here to highlight how easy it would have been to make Rogue come off like a completely normal, unsuspicious love interest. It only would have taken a couple of minor tweaks.

So if Herron and Redmond left all these suspicious moments in the episode anyway...then they did it on purpose.

Speaking of the Doctor reading things into Rogue that he wants to see:

Part 5: "Rogue" POV

Here's one of the big features a novelization can offer over a tv episode: insights into the characters' internal monologues. Let's take a tour of Rogue's.

Watching the wealthy gorge themselves, on wine and each other, he found a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing that far from the walls of this estate, most of the population was living in abject poverty. (37)

Just like the CEO kidnapping, we get class consciousness/anti-wealth disparity that the Doctor would eat up. And that Rogue gives no particular indication of in the show, aside from maybe "Not a lord."

It's strange, the shape time takes when you lose someone. One morning they are next to you, on their pillow, and the next morning you realize they haven't been sleeping there for nearly five years.

The five years had gone by slowly and quickly, all at once, Rogue's bounties blending into one another. It wasn't that Rogue hadn't continued to live, or even to love a little bit. But when you felt you'd lived through the main event of your life, everything else - that extra bit of life you found yourself wandering through - was a bit like an epilogue. Rogue would walk the ship, each night, inspecting every weathered part. A fading heartbeat of a life once lived.

He could no longer think about that day. That time. He felt more ghost than man at this point. (37-38)

Such an incredibly Doctor-coded passage that I felt the need to copy it in full here.

Sure, Rogue could be carrying grief that's deeply similar to the Doctor's. Maybe that's why they're such a good match for each other. But this could just straight-up be the Doctor's internal monologue in The Snowmen, or Heaven Sent.

Rogue suddenly felt eyes on him. He searched the room and saw that the man, that handsome man, was staring at him. His gorgeous brown eyes beamed up at Rogue from the middle of the crowd. For the first time in a long time, Rogue felt that jolt of electricity when you met that person.

That next person who might be the one to change your life. (39)

Is this not the Doctor meeting Rose, or Clara, or Bill, or basically any of his companions and/or love interests?

Also, I would not describe the Doctor's expression in this scene as "beamed up at Rogue." "Glared up at Rogue and then smirked," maybe.

(Didn't I say earlier that it felt odd for Rogue to describe himself as charming? Yeah, but the Doctor would 1000% describe himself as gorgeous etc)

Rogue twitched, seeing the Duchess. It wasn't that he had a strong dislike for her but a feeling of caution that, if he accidentally spoke to her, he might find himself accidentally married off and unable to return to his ship or time travel ever again. (39)

A likely thought for Doctor Commitment Issues to have.

Also, I'd just like to point out: zero indication in-episode that Rogue's "asteroid hopper" is a time machine. Rogue never describes himself as a time traveler. I kind of think that, up until he got outed by Kylie, he was trying to pass himself off as a Regency-era steampunk space traveler.

Rogue turned sharply. The man was up there on the balcony with him. Fast worker. (40)

What are the odds that Rogue's internal monologue would almost perfectly match the Doctor's "fast mover" comment?

It was then that Rogue emotionally left his body and started panicking a good 50 feet above the scene playing out below. Was the man handsome? Yes. Was there a bit of chemistry here? Yes. Did the man smell surprisingly nice for someone from 1813? Absolutely. (40-41)

I think this is also Doctor projection. Which is extra funny considering that he just described himself as "confident" like 5 times in the last 2 chapters.

Rogue, though, was on a mission and what he needed to remember was that the alien he was looking for was incredibly good at playing people. Too good at this dashing stranger game. Would another man make his desires so obvious and open above the bustling dancefloor below? Surely not; it was too risky.

Something was off. (41)

This is the point where I started yelling HEY! HEY!! at this book.

"I don't see how us dancing will create a scene"? Rogue doesn't know the 1800s have homophobia!

The Doctor does!

"Something was off" indeed!!!

Interestingly, the balcony scene is followed by one of our novelization-exclusive scenes: instead of "I think you and I should go outside," Rogue says "I need a drink. You coming?" (42)

It's a more explicit proposition (and wouldn't Doctor "Oh! Fast mover" probably remember it that way?). It's also where we get the "dead boyfriend imagination theater" moment that I quoted all the way back at the start of this essay.

Usually, the imaginary conversations Rogue had with him were when he was alone in the ship but in moments of crisis sometimes, he would imagine him, a life raft in a sea of social interaction nightmares.

'Would you let go, for a second. Flirt back. Ask him about his favorite paintings, the wonders of the universe.'

Rogue looked back at Art. 'He's from 1813.'

Art laughed. 'Okay, well ask him about the wonders of lawn bowls then, who cares.' (57)

If the "life raft in a sea of social interaction nightmares" sounds like 12clara, then we also have a precedent for the Doctor having imaginary conversations with dead loved ones. It's Clara's chalkboard messages in Heaven Sent.

Also, it is odd that Art would tell him to ask the guy from 1813 about "the wonders of the universe," isn't it?

[...] Rogue found himself snapped out of his daydream and back into reality.

Rogue apologized. 'Sorry, a ghost.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Oh, I know those.' (57)

Boy does he!

Then, radiating coolness, he took a sip of his drink - and immediately spluttered. (57)

See, this is why I trust the Herron-Redman grasp of Doctor characterization enough for them to pull this off.

Part 6: An Interlude - Lord Barton, Emily, Ruby, and the Hall of Mirrors

If it's been a minute since your last Rogue rewatch:

Emily = Ruby's 1813 buddy. Turns out to be a Chuldur.

Lord Barton = The "rake, cad," and Casanova who gets Chuldured in the opening scene. Emily's love interest who won't commit.

In the novelization, the two of them them get an expanded version of their subplot.

Lord Barton turned to see Lord Galpin. They had known each other since they were boys, and he had been waiting patiently for Lord Galpin to transform into a man worthy of his company. Tragically that day had still not come. Lord Galpin's discontentment was, though, at least something fun for him to play with, until a better alternative arrived. (24-25)

This struck me as intriguingly masterdoc-coded. However, Galpin disappears from the narrative pretty quickly. His Chuldur decides to jump ship - "You really are wonderfully bad, aren't you?" (Something the nerdy, bookish younger Master might have thought about the Doctor?)

And after that point, Emily takes on the role of Master mirror to Barton's Doctor mirror.

Now wait, you might be thinking, doesn't it seem a little harsh to identify Lord Barton as a Doctor mirror?

Yes, Ruby had definitely met people like [Lord Barton] before. The type of person who was used to being fawned over because they have good looks, money or, in the case of Ryan Fletcher, a car. The kind of people who are spoiled by life: they get what they want with minimal effort so they never really learn to try.

Admittedly, Ryan Fletcher wasn't that bad. Ruby had gone out with him for two months until she realized he cared more about the car than actually going places in it. When she had broken up with him, he had looked so surprised, like it would never occur to him that someone wouldn't want to be with him. (89)

The Doctor grew up spoiled. The Doctor's a little too in love with his car, and he's used to being fawned over because he's the only one who has a car. He's been known to flit from love interest to love interest. He didn't see it coming when Martha dumped his ass.

If Barton isn't a mirror of the current Doctor, then he could definitely pass for the younger Doctor.

As for Emily being a Master mirror - she's a "bookish" nerd, check. She works so hard at performing upper class British femininity that:

In short, Emily was a model member of early 19th century society. But that did nothing to help her marriage prospects. (75)

Which implies an interesting parallel where the Master's whole persona - supremacy, "mastery" - is his effort to be a model time lord. But it's not helping his marriage prospects (with the Doctor).

Emily has spent years fixated on Lord Barton, "a risk-taker who got a thrill out of living on the edge of what was or wasn't allowed when out in society." (76) But here's her big red flag of Rogue/Master mirroring:

When a party was due, she took her preparation incredibly seriously. Sitting for hours in front of her mother's mirror, she would practice the right things to say or do. She longed to be perfect. When she met Lord Barton, she longed to be perfect for him. (76)

"You'll think I'm silly, but I'll spend hours before a party practising what to say. I have to be perfect." (120)

What do we call Missy or Spymaster's big performances for the Doctor, if not practicing their lines in the mirror for hours before the party, trying to to impress their crush?

"Brooding. Good look. Do you practice in a mirror?"

When Emily and Barton met, they spent the whole night talking, but

At the next party, however, Lord Barton had acted like he did not know Emily at all, and it had crushed her. How could their evening together have mattered so much to her and not at all to him? (77)

Missy having to literally stick the Doctor's hand on her hearts to get him to notice she's a time lord, much less recognize who she is.

(And the Doctor not recognizing Rogue at this party...?)

When Lord Barton was with her, he made her feel like she was his world, but when they were apart it was as if he forgot she existed; his focus was on his family duties or on making his own fun. (77)

Just swap "family" out for Earth or companion.

Emily's approach to life is contrasted with Ruby's:

Ruby had a habit of saying exactly what was on her mind. Never mean, but always ready to argue for what was right and listen for when she was wrong.

'I'm always me; people either like that or they don't,' Ruby concluded. 'And that way, I find friends that like me for who I really am.' (121)

And:

'You don't understand. I know him. The real him,' [Emily] insisted. 'He likes to play the rake but deep down he's a romantic, searching for his perfect match. If only he knew, it's always been me!'

[...] 'You can't make someone love you,' [Ruby] said. 'You need to find someone who likes you, for you. Someone who doesn't make you chase them all over a house.' (161)

The Doctor is the charming spoiled rake who dreams of true love, but is afraid to commit. The Master is the nerd who's been chasing the Doctor around the galaxy, practicing their lines in the mirror, trying to put on the perfect show and prove that they're meant to be together.

The Master has been roleplaying The Bad Guy, the Doctor, and the model time lord, all at once. Not to mention: Claims To Be The Master, Subs Anyway. But if they want a chance at real love, they need to be themself - be Rogue, the weirdo wallflower roleplay nerd - and let the Doctor like or dislike that.

If any of this feels like a stretch because it's too sympathetic to the Master...we have to remember that we're dealing with the person who directed and pitched the Loki show. A known supervillain sympathizer.

Part 7: Can't Get You Out of My Head (Where the Master Lives, Rent Free)

Okay, enough of the Master being pathetic! Back to the Doctor being a freak who's puppeteering his dead boyfriend. And that dead boyfriend is secretly his first boyfriend, who won't stop bleeding into the narrative.

Okay, we have an ego here and apparently an inventor, thought the Doctor. That's--

'Cute,' he said, which only spurred on Rogue. (84)

The Masterrr

Rogue's ship gets namedropped in this book as the Yossarian. I won't pretend to have read Catch-22, but via wikipedia: "Yossarian's motivation is to 'live forever or die in the attempt.'" A la Crispy Master. Yossarian ultimately manages to escape the war, leaving his fellow soldiers behind, and rationalizing "I’m not running away from my responsibilities. I’m running to them. There’s nothing negative about running away to save my life."

In another novelization-exclusive scene, Rogue tries to pull a Han Solo (or a Professor Yana) and run away from the Chuldurs.

'If it's not our problem, whose is it?' The Doctor's voice was cold, angry. 'Who do you think will help these people if we don't? You're here. You've seen what they're doing. You are choosing not to care.'

[...] Rogue knew that if he chose to walk away now, he would be walking away alone. (173)

According to 12, choosing not to care is Missy's whole problem. This scene mirrors the "Stand with me. It's all I've ever wanted" scene in The Doctor Falls.

Interestingly, the combo of the Doctor breaking Rogue's blaster and shaming him out of self-preservation makes the Doctor even more culpable in Rogue's sacrifice. Which could be his guilt complex talking.

Rogue looked pleadingly at the Doctor. If he gave himself enough time and distance, he could learn to forget his troubles and bury his guilt. He could stop himself from caring. Rogue had done it before. He could do it again.

He could show the Doctor how.

'We could go anywhere,' he said. (174)

And that's what Missy wanted for 12. Why she gave him that birthday present.

Rogue looked into the Doctor's eyes and knew that he would never stop caring. Could never stop wanting to help, to fight, to go on. That was who he was.

The Doctor let go of Rogue's hand and climbed in through the window, and Rogue did what he knew he would do for ever.

Follow him. (175)

Who's been following the Doctor around for longer than anyone else?

Meanwhile! Emily has been following Barton around the house, trying to warn him about the Chuldurs, when suddenly:

'But you...'Emily continued. 'You live a life of adventure, danger, traveling through time, helping your friends.'

[...] The final image of [Ruby's] life would be watching her friend morph into the creature that would kill her.

'So why stay this bookish wallflower,' Emily said...'when I could be you?' (170)

Hey Spymaster, how's it going?

As our Emily and Rogue mirrors converge on the "following him forever" theme (and the "watching your friend morph into the creature that will kill you" theme?), the Doctor finds himself facing a mirror of his own:

'Fascinating,' [the Duchess Chuldur] said, looking the Doctor up and down admiringly. 'A traveller like us.'

'Yeah, but no thanks, not like you.' The Doctor pulled an exaggerated, disgusted face. 'Never like you. I travel to see life, in all its amazing variation. The people, the places. You? You leave a trail of pain and destruction everywhere you go. Selfishly taking lives instead of getting one of your own. And all for a bit of fun. If you can call this fun.' (195)

This is still the Doctor talking to the Master (girl, get a life!). And also, perhaps, an expression of his worst fears about himself ("I traveled to all those worlds. I thought it was fun.")

We're now into the section where he thinks that Ruby has been Chuldured. Like I said earlier, we get an extended scene here of Rogue comforting him, vs Show Rogue just sort of studying the Doctor with calm interest as he breaks down.

He had wanted to end this without seeing her like this. He wanted to remember her how she was, his amazing, brilliant friend who brought out the best in everyone. Brought out the best in him. (198)

"So brilliant" is how the Doctor describes Missy/the younger Master to Bill. "Stone cold brilliant" is what the Doctor says to Saxon Master.

The Doctor took a sharp intake of breath. These weren't the fake tears of a Chuldur playing with feelings or the angry tears of a thwarted enemy. These were the real, scared tears of his best friend, telling him she was still there. (198)

And this is the execution scene in Extremis. "I am your friend. It's the truth."

I'd like to highlight one more "canon divergence:" the business with the triform trap works a bit differently here.

In the book, Emily Chuldur "foolishly" runs straight into the trap after everyone else is already in there. In the show, Rogue hoists her into his arms and dumps her in.

The book also adds a new detail to the stakes: if they don't hit send right as the countdown finishes, the trap will shut off and free the Chuldurs. In the episode, "Triform charged. Press send" comes a good 2-3 minutes before Rogue actually hits send and sacrifices himself.

Again, this smooths over holes in the show, while drawing our attention to why they weren't smoothed over in canon. Why does Rogue seem to have so much casual control over who enters and exits the trap? Why would a Chuldur allow him to hoist her? Why did Rogue pressure the Doctor so hard to make a split-second decision?

If this is the Doctor's narrative, he's not interested in questioning any of that. Even if he has to rewrite reality to justify Rogue's behavior.

Part 8: "Please Don't Mourn Me"?

Of all the timelines they could both have inhabited, Rogue was grateful that their eyes had met on this one. What a great surprise that had been from the universe. Yes, right now, he was lonely, but time wasn't linear, and that was his favorite thing about it.

Rogue was sitting in this cave, but he was also walking with the Doctor in the garden, he was laughing with Art in the Yossarian, he was falling from a building, he was running from one memory of his life to another. All at once.

Rogue was in the Doctor's arms, spinning around and around, for ever. (215)

Okay. Does this sound like the zen reflection Rogue would be having, as he eats bats in a cave?

Or does it sound like the Doctor trying to justify leaving Rogue for dead? After all, from a certain point of view, Rogue is in his arms forever.

Memory is a time machine, right?

Watching the Doctor just abandon Rogue to his fate like that is uncomfortable. And I think Herron and Redman are fully aware of, and leaning into, that discomfort. All of their creative choices seem very intentional, and the novelization serves as an opportunity for them to highlight that intentionality.

So. Let's pretend for a sec that I'm right about everything. Rogue is the Master, and this book is a fanfiction.

If Dungeon Master is real, then it will obviously be revealed in one of Rogue's upcoming appearances. But if the novelization really is a fanfiction, how would that ever pay off?

A few possibilities:

1. Once it becomes clear that the novelization is non-canonical, Redman and/or Herron could reveal the fanfic conceit on social media. It would be just as easy to say "They're separate continuities, but either can be canon if you want it to be :)," though

2. If the Dungeon Master reveal episode ends up getting its own novelization, then Herron and Redman could open the sequel by revealing that the Doctor wrote the last one.

3. The Doctor's fanfiction could come up in the show. I think this one's a legitimate possibility. 15's run is all about the fictions we invest with meaning until they seem real. It wouldn't be hard to toss in a line like "This whole time, I've been imagining the kind of person he is. Inventing him a backstory..."

And again: even if I'm 100% wrong about the fanfiction thing, this book still dedicates a lot of its word count to drawing juicy parallels between Rogue, Emily, and the Master, and between Artificer, Barton, and the Doctor. I leave the Rogue novelization feeling more confident than ever that Dungeon Master Real.

And if we take the Emily subplot as any indication, then I'm also more confident than ever that Dungeon Master won't ultimately be a villain arc, but a romantic/redemption arc. Or at least, an arc toward becoming a more chaotic-neutral, "roguish" figure.

All right. If anyone actually made it to the end of this [checks word count] 6000 word essay, then thank you, so much.

And because I couldn't quite fit it in anywhere else, one last Art Is The Doctor for the road:

'You know, I could go undercover next time,' Art said [...]

'Last time we tried that, you gave someone our actual contact details.'

'We got on! An alias shouldn't prevent an actual friendship.' (111)

Safe travels in season 2 ✌️

#doctor who #rogue #timerogue #masterdoc #the master #fifteenth doctor #rogue is the master #dungeon master

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