#whether we believe he did it or not we should not do the cops the favor of trusting their judgement

[unpopularly-opinionated]

So you believe that Boeing paid off the family juuuuuust enough to get them to say that he wasn't assassinated, but not enough to stop them from saying "Boeing is responsible for his death and should be held responsible for their grotesque conduct that drove him to suicide?"

I guess I should've been more clear when I said Boeing "paid off" the bereaved family, that's on me I guess, but I didn't mean they paid them off in the same sense that you'd pay off a cop. If it even transpired, it would more than likely go something like: "Hey, we feel really bad about the tragic loss of your son who definitely for sure killed himself, so uh, here's some money for your loss. See, we're the good guys in this! Please don't point fingers at us."

Or alternatively, they could've not been paid at all. Both are just as likely and explain why the family might still be pointing fingers. It wouldn't have been hush money, more like a gift meant to ingratiate them as an innocent party that obviously didn't work (again, assuming it even happened).

The evidence you have is an apparent belief that money has evil-gravitic properties, and anything bad that happens must have originated with the closest concentration of money.

Not anything, no, just the ones where Occam's razor applies. Again, which is more likely, a hundred billion dollar company who are active agents of shady, illegal business practices had both the cause and the means to have someone with information dangerous to their company killed and covered up... or that the guy who was about to testify with said-dangerous information just up and decided to end it all right before the finish line?

You seem to be under the impression that money holds little to no power which is as amusing to me as it is grossly naive.

By your standard, is there any evidence that is not hearsay? Because the evidence is "all of the evidence," and I appended the assessment of the family to pre-empt the accusation it was all made up evidence. What evidence does not count as hearsay?

To reiterate, I don't have any evidence that he was killed, nor did I ever claim to. But the evidence that he killed himself is the hole in his head and the "trust me bro" we get from the cops, which is the same exact kind of evidence that we got from Epstein's supposed suicide as well, just a man hanging in his cell and a "trust me bro" from the cops.

Now, is this me saying that we should question whether or not every suicide by gunshot/hanging is legit or just actually a covered up murder? No, obviously not. Again, I'm just applying Occam's razor here. Joe Blow who lived an average life before deciding to end it all probably wasn't secretly murdered. But the guy with information that could harm a lot of really powerful people, who is in active pursuit of revealing that information to the proper authorities, decides to end it all just before the finish line? You can't reasonably argue that it's not the least bit suspect.

The rest of us know Epstein didn't kill himself because we observe facts about reality and observe when they do and do not align with a conspiracy or cover-up.

You know, I don't mean to be rude, and what I said about you being naive about money was rude, so I apologize. But if not money, you seem to think that maybe only politicians or political figures have the modicum of power necessary to have someone killed and cover it up.

Like let's just examine your admission here: You've admitted that the circumstances surrounding Epstein's supposed suicide were suspect enough to justify questioning it's legitimacy. You admit to this despite the fact that he was in prison and under close watch by guards and cameras. Which, mind you, I agree with. But you're telling me that someone in those circumstances was somehow murdered, and said-murder was then covered up?

So then explain to me how exactly it's so unbelievable that a dude not in prison, not under watch by guards or cameras, was murdered in his car and then covered up as a suicide? How was one dude with dangerous information under total security and surveillance mysteriously killed and staged, but the other dude with dangerous information with no security or surveillance probably just killed himself?

This isn't the hill I'm prepared to die on, but sure, maybe he did kill himself. But then again, maybe Epstein actually just killed himself too.

Remember earlier this year when Boeing very clearly had a whistleblower executed? And law enforcement didn't even look for anyone or release any info about it or anything?

People keep comparing Luigi Mangione's case to the subway murderer who got off because of systemic eugenics, but I think there's something more apt about the fact that a CEO had someone executed in recent memory, with zero attempts to find a culprit, while they spared no expense at all to find (and probably frame, it's beginning to look like) someone who shot a CEO. It's always fine to slaughter if you're rich, but if you kill the rich, they will hunt you down.

[hylianengineer]

I think we all need to remember that the burden of proof is on the police and prosecutors here. And that burden should be very high, always, but especially for a crime as serious as murder, and especially one so high-profile.

The police want the public to believe they caught the guy so we'll think they're competent and CEOs will feel safer. The police also have a known and very extensive history of wrongful arrests, including those leading to wrongful convictions.

We don't know that the 'person of interest' they've arrested is necessarily guilty - and the cops are not a reliable source on that claim.

Regardless of whether this man committed the crime, the 'justice' system still has to prove it.

[looking-for-wisdom]

the “ex-something” character in disco elysium is so interesting to me because what we finally learn about the true Dora from harry’s dream sequence & conversations with the 41st precinct initially undercuts the first impression you get as a player. We learn things that makes it seem like Harry should be over her leaving. Specifically, the fact that she and Harry were never actually married and that it has been six years since she left.

Everything we’re told about Dora needs to be taken with a grain of salt, since it primarily comes from Harry. He’s an unreliable narrator and, if we had her perspective on things, there would surely be more to the story. But even with that said, I feel reasonably confident that the player’s first impression — that whoever this ex is did some damage even beyond typical breakup heartbreak — isn’t completely wrong.

We know a few things for certain. Harry was a gym teacher before they met, and Dora was the reason he joined the RCM. We can also do the math to figure out that they were together for around 12 years. Married or not, that’s a serious relationship. There are implications that Dora might have been pregnant at some point.

Dora’s family was wealthier than Harry’s, but they struggled financially when they were together. They had to rely on her parents for support.

Harry is a grown ass man who is responsible for his own choices. None of this changes that. But the way he is starts to make more sense when you consider that it wasn’t just their breakup that was traumatic. Their relationship itself seems unhealthy.

Harry clearly likes working with kids. Kim actually points out how he is easily able to connect with Cuno and the other teens in Martinase. With that in mind, I imagine he probably liked being a gym teacher. But we learn that Dora encourages him to join the RCM to do more for the greater good. Again, Harry had to agree to this — she didn’t force him to quit at gunpoint. But it rubs me the wrong way that, shortly after they start dating, she implies that his work isn’t fulfilling or important (probably patently untrue in an area where kids won’t necessarily have stable home lives). And, more than that, she suggests that joining the police is the solution.

Granted, we’re told there’s a lot of crime in Jamrock. Maybe it is as simple as her thinking law enforcement helps prevent that. But given the political tones of the game, which intentionally critique cops and the moralist forces they represent? I think it’s notable.

Speaking of which. The class difference between Dora and Harry has to be thematic. So much of the game discusses the struggle between the working class and the bourgeoisie. There’s an inherent power dynamic there. It’s her parents who are consistently paying their bills and keeping them afloat. She has an out that Harry doesn’t. Money won’t be an issue for her when they split, but Harry will be left without any support. Regardless of whether she intentionally held this over his head, this game shows that even without meaning to, the capitalist system harms the poor. That strain must be felt in their relationship, and could cause a lot of damage over 12 years.

All this to say: their relationship clearly wasn’t some fling. And, if Harry is to be believed, the blame for things falling apart was largely placed on him: working to much, not bringing home enough money, not being enough. But even if Dora wasn’t actively manipulating him and he came up with all of this on his own, I think the facts still point to a dynamic where he was made to be small in the face of a woman who came from more. Their backgrounds create an imbalance where Harry was always going to feel the flaws in their relationship more acutely. He starts with little, and gives up much of what he does have to pursue something better for the both of them. But when that isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, he’s the only one left with nothing. She can leave the country and start over.

It makes sense, to me, that he might not have recovered from that in six years. Especially when that rock bottom feeling seems so permanent that he isn’t trying to get better so much as numb himself enough to exist another day.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible or that he’s exempt from having to get his shit together. The game very clearly illustrates that everyone will turn away from him if he doesn’t. But it does complicate his character a bit more than “got left by extremely bangable woman, proceeds to make the lives of everyone around him worse.”

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

TKATB: More theories! Yay!

This most certainly will contain spoilers for Days 1 and 2 of @fantasia-kitt 's 'The Kid At The Back', along with containing mentions of material found on her Twitter (https://twitter.com/fantasia_kitt).

WILL HAVE SPOILERS! IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED THROUGH DAYS 1 AND 2, I RECOMMEND FINISHING THEM FIRST.

Quite a lot of these may allude to the ones I posted a week(?) ago, but my brain has brained REALLY HARD (almost as hard as when I get when I see Geo) and I think I have more ideas/more specified ideas of what could happen.

- So, I am correct in assuming the fact that the Hallow's Ball is on Day 5 (because Day 1 is in fact Monday); now this might be a stretch, in fact, it probably is, but due to the fact the Higher Class paid a visit to the school, maybe some of them might show up? Or maybe the people who bullied Brittney (think the food fight route) try to publically humiliate her or something, because something tells me she's got a lot of enemies, and something pretty bad is gonna happen to her.

- Geo is mentioned to have been disqualified due to 'accidentally' shooting an arrow at another person and it cutting their hair. Jess mentions we'd have to go 'next year' to see him partake again, so I'm gonna guess this competition is an annual thing. Maybe (and I'm assuming this as well) Geo and Hyugo were part of the Higher Class (because their dad works with the city's Founder, so that's gotta be High Class if I've ever heard it), but they were moved down. Geo is seemingly using archery to try and get selected to return back to the Higher Class, but if so, why get purposefully disqualified over almost potentially killing someone? Maybe, someone *really* pissed him off, or maybe got him sent down for whatever reason (we know Geo has daddy issues so maybe his father treats him like shit because of it) and he's subtly trying to threaten them?

- Along with that, MC wonders why he didn't get arrested. Think about it, he's got money, a lot of it. Hyugo says how corrupt this city is, their father (I believe Geo is an illegitimate child, due to the mother cheating or smth idk) probably paid the cops to not give a shit.

- Hyugo also has a LOT of connections, is often MIA, and is in the student council, so he's got influence. (Maybe adding salt to Geo's wounds indirectly?) I have a feeling he goes MIA for his syndicate activities (he has access to sleeping pills); and maybe because he's part of the council and gets stupidly high ass grades, nobody questions it. Besides, he's probably got some sketchy operations going on to maintain it all.

- With Crowe asking about Marie Antoinette, I now feel that our 'responses' to whether she was a good or horrible person are things HE did. "She was ignorant, she raved while people were starving..." - MC to Crowe when choosing the 'She was a horrible person' choice. I'll ignore the latter part for now, because that was a normal thing for rich people to do at the time. But the ignorant part is interesting. Maybe the reason Crowe is so nice (and it's not a facade, according to Fantasia herself) is because he's trying to redeem himself? Sol, if you don't skip class and let him escort you, states: "Ichabod (Crowe's surname) it's always been you. I should have dealt with him years ago..." So, maybe, at some point, Crowe had a pristine relationship with his family, mother specifically, (he doesn't anymore) and the reasoning behind this is due to the fact he believed he was superior? Maybe he was even a bully at some point? Hell, maybe he even made fun of Sol, and Sol wants to obliterate him for it. He (Crowe) was making him (Sol), and now he is trying to steal his so(u)lmate?! How fucking dare he?!

- Brittney also states that she's astonished about how Deryl has almost no friends, so I think that's incredibly fascinating, because it's true. How does a bubbly, happy jock like him get ignored by so many? Maybe because he helped Brittney (along with Jess) when she was low?

- Again, about Brittney, I feel that that frat party 2 years ago shattered her reputation, her image, everything. I bet some damaging info got spread about her and it led to her 'mysteriously' leaving the cheerleading squad, becoming more isolated and essentially (I'm assuming this) getting moved down with Jess. (Check previous one for why I think Jess got moved down as well, but tldr is she lost her shit, maybe got physical and it got her and Brittney sent to the worse school together). - On Fantasia's twitter, there's a Day 3 nsfw image of Sol essentially standing in front of a mirror with blood everywhere (ill link the slideshow that i have of every image i found/liked), anyway it's the right one on slide 9; with the caption "All I see are flaws"....so maybe if you ignore him on Day 3 and hang out with Crowe, he'll start losing his shit? Maybe thinking he isn't good enough? - Also, in the Day 2 NSFW scene, there are some prominent burn marks on Sol's back...does he get abused to this day? Does he live alone and they're scars?????? Maybe that's what he meant when he says "I've been dealt worse" in relation to the bullying? He does have history with them after all.

So. That's basically it, brain will continue to brain. Until then, ciao. (and yes the Geo fanfic is coming dw) Slides: https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1Wb_biHRk6g1gKj0WZ5XVwEtKGjFRTapDYerlEyhYPGE/edit#slide=id.g2cffd4cd112_0_34

[dingodad]

Ok, so this has driven me crazy for the longest time. What the fuck happened to post retcon Japsersprite? The one we know is from pre retcon, since he was on John’s planet when he brought it into the void. Nothing was ever mentioned to happen to post retcon Jaspers, so where is he. I can’t believe Hussie forgot about him, he didn’t forget about the two Nannasprites. Did post retcon Jaspersprite just not exist? Maybe he died on LOWAS when Typheus blew it up, but there is no mention of that at all. I guess only Jade or the Nanna’s would know then, but nothing is ever said about it. Also is there a way to know if the Arquius that becomes lord English is the pre or post retcon version?

i'm gunna play good cop bad cop here cus there's an answer you don't want to hear and then there's a sort of interesting consolation prize answer at the end.

the answer you don't want to hear: it doesn't matter! :P i don't think this really needs explaining but the whole point of davepeta/jasprose's ultimate self spiels is that tying yourself in knots trying to figure out who's "pre-retcon" and who's "post-retcon" is, as they say, for the birds. john is john is john. hussie didn't "forget" that there are supposed to be two jaspersprites: while a story can occasionally get away with having two Daves or two Roses because Dave and Rose have interesting things to say to themselves, the fact that homestuck has even ONE character called jaspersprite simply strains the reader's ability to give a shit. there is the room nor the need for TWO jaspersprites, of all the damnedest things.

(there can be two nannasprites because two nannasprites are funny - but if there's one thing worse than creating the same CHARACTER twice, it's telling the same JOKE twice.)

the other answer is about sprites in particular. do you know why video game graphics used to be called "sprites"? i only thought to look this up just recently: it's because, like the fairies or spirits of folklore from which they get their name, they float above the background of the game world without interacting with it directly. this should form the basis for our understanding of homestuck's kernelsprite, as well, which borrows both from folklore and from computer programming. they are of course ghosts on a literal level, with spritely undead tails and the ability to pass through walls and physical barriers like they weren't there - but the way they interact with the story itself is similarly ethereal-and-or-ephemeral.

sprites appear at the whim of the heroes to serve a very particular purpose - which, you will notice, is exactly what davepeta says they're doing when they show up in hell - but then the moment that purpose is complete they might as well stop existing. dave- and jadesprite show up inexplicably on the battlefield as the reckoning begins: are they killing themselves now that their purposes are complete? where are all the lususprites, anyway; did they do the same thing? erisolsprite initially seems to indicate that he's going to fuck off and possibly explode like all the other sprites who hate themselves, but then just shows up again 200 pages later later at the convenience of the trickster arc. the same is true of all the sprites presumed-dead following the events of GAME OVER, who show up as-needed in the new timeline to form the next generation of redundant ghost freaks. this is simply how sprites operate. whether they're "alive" or "dead" at any given moment is the wrong way of looking at it - they're ghosts for goodness' sake!!

the fact that the story never tells us what happened to "that other jaspersprite" is supposed to make us think less about it, not more, because knowing where one of them is - the "ultimate" one, in fact - should be enough to put our minds at ease. but it also deliberately leaves the door open for another jaspersprite to show up if the story ever somehow, against all odds, finds a place to squeeze one in. which is again exactly what the plot point is currently doing with sprites like erisol, who for all intents and purposes was dead up until the moment page 666 started

[drdemonprince]

to the anon who sent me the message that took them 4 hours to draft.

I think your experience both with organizing and disability has probably provoked you to rethink the entire concept of "success" as our culture has defined it, even if you feel yourself still longing for some of the comfort and ease that capitalistic success can seemingly provide (or that we are conditioned to believe it can provide). im not sure what to say that can match the effort your put into your message, in fact i am galled by the fact that i know that i can't match that effort. i don't know how to make sense of the fact that a person who is finding it incredibly difficult to remain connected and engaged during this time, due to disability, has decided that i was worth that level of effort when they don't have the energy to message people they know. i don't think i am worth that effort. but i also respect that mired in all that you're mired in, it's a meaningful gesture toward engagement and connection to even bother writing such a message. i just think in a lot of ways i am a misplaced target for it, because i am a ridiculously privileged and publicly exposed individual who receives dozens of heartfelt messages that he doesnt find the time to respond to every single day. i think if anything that i've written rubs you the wrong way you'd be right to approach it with cynicism. because what the fuck do i know, banging around on my laptop every day and getting paid for it. how dare i lecture anybody about not unlearning capitalism adequately enough. i am one of capitalisms little milking cows. a massive publishing company makes a weekly profit off of me, off the byproduct of the worst years of my life and my worst traumas, as well as the meaning i've made from the scholarship of others.

i'm so enraged for you that you got a debilitating case of COVID (after several other cases) on an encampment, and that now the community you foster at that encampment is not there for you. i am disgusted at how more seasoned activists and organizations have regarded student protestors as disposable this entire year, selling them out to the cops, cutting bad deals with campus administration, and sending them to yellow and red risk level actions without adequate communication and getting them kettled and beat, or else nullifying their efforts with mealy-mouthed talk about keeping things peaceful. i see so many toothless, neoliberal protests happening here, ones that serve only as fundraisers for massive nonprofit orgs, and i also see literal teenagers being dragged right into paddy wagons by the likes of the PSL or the RCP while the Dems deride them and dance to Brat tracks, not even pretending to care the way they unconvincingly did in say 2020.

It's all making me terribly cynical, wondering where we are headed and whether i can or should encourage people who are younger, stronger, more energetic, more pliable, and more vulnerable to me to give up all that they've got for a cause when it's likely gonna be chewed up and spit out and not met in effort by anyone else. i am mournful of the fact that even i can't match that effort. every time i get a message from a friend or acquaintance who is going through some new awful traumatizing event i want to just curl up and disappear, because i can't even keep up with sending compassionate messages to all of them, let alone actually showing the fuck up and doing anything for them. and so sometimes i slip into the disaffected, blunted feeling that once led me as a younger man into libertarianism, thinking that all i can or should do is look after my own wellbeing, and fuck everybody else. and obviously that is a horrible path that is not by any means moral and certainly didn't help me anyway. it felt like we were on the brink of a great paradigm shift of some kind, a collapse of these evil systems, and now it feels like all of that is as far away as it's ever been, and that there aren't enough people with class consciousness and care for one another to make it happen.

i don't know. i think we all have to abandon our dreams of success, of comfort, of saving the world, the fantasies of everything being fine. i think we need to look to our immediate surroundings and our communities. i think we need to ask for help a whole hell of a lot more than any of us are doing, and to recognize that that is a form of helping. i think we need to get small. and remember we are weak animals. and stop thinking there is anything special or chosen about us. and to remember that nature can often be very cruel and that there is nothing we are owed. disabled people already know this of course, we know life isn't fair. we try to do what we can and yet we wake up feeling even less capable the next day, and it knows no logic and the universe remains indifferent to it. but there are people around us who can care, when we ask them to. and ways that we can just be there alongside one another in the muck of it all. not even necessarily making things better. certainly not being a savior and making the pain go away. maybe just sitting in the muck together.

all of which is to say, i am feeling stuck and overwhelmed and useless myself, anon, and i dont have any more answers than you. but thanks for messaging. im sorry people have taking advantage of you. including in my opinion lots of other activists. looking after yourself and not letting people guilt you doesn't mean turning into a conservative. the kind of anarchy that i am embracing right now is one that goes beyond linear change, beyond making meaning, beyond any idealistic visions of the future, beyond even fighting for some kind of symbolic survival. it's just being. none of it has to mean anything, none of it has to be headed anywhere. it just is. there is plenty for you to be bitter about.

[pinazee]

Disco didn’t die. it was murdered!

Psych is one of the best at doing these themed episodes. They change the camera work, the lighting, the background theme, and even the outfits. Like, they go all out and its always fun :)

Look at this smug bastard. I don’t mind arrogance, but i do mind the fake modesty. It made me roll my eyes haha

Now to settle my own curiosity, i looked into all the things shawn and gus point out about the chiefs phrases and grammar.

“I could care less” and “i couldn’t care less” are used interchangeably though english scholars will say the latter is the correct phrase and should be used formally.

“Goes without saying” was originally a french term ça va sans dire and my understanding of it is that it meant more like “absolutely” or “of course” where the English equivalent is more like “obviously”. Either way we can blame the french for this one haha

The chief did in fact split an infinitive when she said “why don’t you tell me how to properly say this-“ Splitting an infinitive is when you put an adverb between to- and a verb. Such as to boldly go, to casually walk, or to gently push. Whether or not its proper english is debated i believe. But if you ask me, it wouldn’t sound right to have Kirk say to go boldly. Just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Heres a Phil collins/ corbin bersen side by side

Also, obviously the chief never should have put shawn on the case. Not only because henry is his dad, but also because he’s a “psychic” and i would think if they were trying to get a solid legal case against him, they wouldn’t use mr.woowoo. But again, its a cable show so we ignore this haha (but also no way they won that in court?? It was circumstantial at best)

“It was the 70’s, we did what we had to do but only when we knew we had the right guy.” Henry…is kind of a hypocrite? Like hes all about following the rules and especially the law but also thinks it was okay for him to do it because he had a good reason. Okay, maybe to give him a little more credit than that, the fact that hes so nervous and touchy about it (fiddling with the key, shouting at gus) is because he knew the search warrant was bogus and screwed up, but his pride prevents him from owning it outright. So, i like that it ends with Henry thanking Shawn for essentially fixing his mistake. I’ve been kinda iffy on henry this whole rewatch so far, and how he is with shawn aside, i at least know its more important for him to get the right guy (or at least be right) than it is to get a bust for the sake of his ego. Though, now that i think about it, thats really the bare minimum to be a cop so…

Ive said it before, but i like that the difference between shawns tactics and his fathers in getting information from people is that henry will bust through or even intimidate, while Shawn makes them feel good about themselves and in some cases like theyre a part of the team. There’s an argument that shawns way is more manipulative, and i think if we didn’t know him as a person it might come across that way, but instead it comes across as him just making friends with everyone he meets.

Gus thinking his story ends with a wrongful conviction explains him freaking out so much in season 7’s ep Office Space. Theres also a commentary there about this being a genuine fear in the black community which makes me very sad at the state of my country.

NATIONAL TREASURE IS A NATIONAL TREASURE GUS

Now, about shawn spending all their money on the car- i am of the belief that he did it on purpose either to be a stinker or to make it more challenging, or maybe I’m in denial that negotiating is not in his skill set considering he’s ridiculously good at so many other things haha

I just wanted to put their clue spotting side by side because i like that their similar and different at the same time :)

Incidentally my filipino coworkers reacted the same way when i told them my mom called my pookie, to which they explained (after laughing) that a “puki” was ahem, vagina in tagalog. Language is fun :)

This is going to sound weird but this is the first ep that juliet and lassie felt like actual partners. It just feels like their on the same level finally, and that level being a dick to mcnab for no reason haha. But im glad karma hit back real quick for them (also, their treatment from the coast guard was a preview for the next ep, though i would think they’d have met chief vicks sis in the process)

Who cuts a cucumber like this? Its one of the easiest vegetables to cut. I dont know why this bothers me so much haha

I could hash out the henry and shawn argument, but as Gus pointed out, they have this same argument pretty frequently. So i think, yeah, im just going to store it for later.

Okay, correction from my post on Daredevils!, this was the dumbest thing he ever did. He risked so many peoples lives like wtf?? And i was about to say shawn wouldn’t do that unless he had a trick up his sleeve because he did know how to turn it on, but then when no one is looking he is genuinely relieved it worked so he really didn’t think it through and im so disappointed in him. Bad psychic.

P.S

Dulé!

[separatist-apologist]

The Sweetest Con

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before.

She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

“How is life with the cop?” Gwyn asked from behind a stack of books. Emerie was perched on the counter like usual, while Nesta flipped through several new books that had just come in.

“He’s not a cop,” she reminded her friends. The fact that anyone could look at him and believe he was anything but a criminal was a testament to Cassian’s charm. The whole town loved him, greeting him by name whenever he walked down the road and all but throwing themselves at him at any given opportunity.

It annoyed Nesta. All of it annoyed her. She disliked how easy he was to live with and how much she looked forward to coming home at night so they could cook and talk together. She was supposed to be keeping tabs on him and figuring out his game, but all Nesta had learned about was Cassian’s past.

“Did you ever ask him about Brent?” Emerie questioned. 

It ought to have disturbed her how easily her friends believed Cassian was a criminal capable of framing a suicide. Gwyn and Emerie hadn’t flinched when Nesta told them about her suspicions, for whatever that said about them 

“No. I don’t need to ask him,” Nesta said, thinking about how Cassian had smiled when she’d told him what had happened. It made her divorce a lot easier, if nothing else. What Nesta really wanted was an explanation. Surely there was more than just the threat on the lawn. 

She couldn’t ask without admitting she knew what he was. 

“It’s obvious he did it because he likes her,” Gwyn added with an impertinent wink.

“What would you know about men liking women?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn shrugged. “I know enough.”

“Maybe we should tell him about—”

“No.” Gwyn’s voice went icy cold at the suggestion. Labeled the town home wrecker, Gwyn was shunned by all the well-to-do women in town who didn’t want to admit that what happened to Gwyn was rape simply because the man in question was a good ‘ol boy. 

Nesta hated seeing all of them—hated the way they acted so high and mighty, like somehow they were good people despite their willingness to protect a rapist. Nesta would have liked to see Cassian kill him.

Hell, she would have liked to have done it herself, and she knew Emerie felt the same way. 

“We don’t need a man for that,” Nesta reminded Emerie, earning a bright grin in response.

“How long are you going to let this go on?” Gwyn asked, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Until she gets him naked,” Emerie teased.

Nesta could help her flush. “I don’t want to see him naked,” she lied as Emerie and Gwyn made booing noises and pointed their thumbs down. All Nesta thought about was Cassian—they’d been living together for two weeks and he spent more time without a shirt on than he did wearing one. He could hardly be blamed—it was miserably hot outside and Nesta refused to turn on her oven, so they were cooking outdoors each night.

And Cassian often just forwent his shirt, giving her access to his toned, broad chest and the rippling muscles against his stomach and back. All she could think about was what the rest of him looked like.

Nesta hadn’t had sex in over five years—since before she’d been dumped in this small town. She’d tried to go on one date with a man named Tomas—and he’d decided he was going to have her whether she wanted him or not. Nesta had been fortunate to escape, biting his ear so viciously there was still a chunk missing. 

After that, Nesta never bothered again. No one had been tempting enough until Cassian sauntered through her front door, made worse by the knowledge that he might be there to kill her. He clearly had no qualms about it. 

Still, he’d been surprisingly kind to her and Nesta caught herself forgetting what he was. She never mistook him for a cop—that was still a joke—but she was starting to see him as a man she could like.

A man she could strip naked, if nothing else.

It was Nesta’s pride that got in her way. She simply could not be the one who made the first move. It was making their living situation tense—Nesta was actively trying to break him.

“Do you swim, Cassian?” Nesta heard herself asking after dinner that night, thinking about the black swimsuit folded up in her dresser. 

He shrugged. “I know how, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Nesta leveled a long look at him. “You don’t look like a man who can swim.”

Cassian paused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta shrugged, rising to her feet. “You don’t look like you can swim.”

“I can swim,” he told her, falling right into her trap. The male ego was a fascinating thing. “I didn’t bring swim trunks with me, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Nesta said, her tone implying she thought this was just a clever excuse to get out of swimming. She then sauntered off, undressing herself to put on that bikini.

She felt nervous, looking at the high straps of the bottoms that revealed the cheeks of her ass. Not to mention how out there her breasts suddenly were.

Was it too much? 

Nesta threw on a cover up before marching out. Cassian was still in his athletic shorts—no shirt—and a pair of slide on shoes. “Where are we swimming?”

“There is a little lake a couple blocks over,” she informed him, grabbing two towels from the bathroom. “There’s a community pool, too, but I never use it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many children,” she said, though in truth it had more to do with the fact that the pool was always filled with people who didn’t like her, and Nesta didn’t want to be surrounded by people staring and whispering. 

“Makes sense,” Cassian said, though after a pause he added, “You don’t want children?”

That felt like a loaded question. “Maybe someday,” she replied, unwilling to examine why he might ask her that. Cassian only nodded, his broad hand resting absently on his stomach. Nesta was trying to ignore the trail of hair that began just beneath his naval before vanishing into his pants, too. 

That was a little more difficult. Nesta forced herself to look straight ahead as they walked and answered Cassian’s endless stream of questions like she was interviewing for a job. So what if he was hot? That was his problem—not hers.

Except, Cassian was hell bent on making it her problem as they tramped over the dirt path that led from the sidewalk to the lake. Nesta could hear children laughing in the distance, though the rocky patch of shore that she and Cassian had chosen was free of everyone but themselves. 

Nesta pulled off her coverup, ignoring Cassian. Behind her, he made a soft, strangled noise she chose to believe was about the rocks digging into the soft soles of their feet.

But deep down, she knew he was reacting to her outfit. 

The water was warm and still somehow refreshing even in the late evening air. Nesta waded in deeper and deeper, embarrassed that so much of her body was on display. Some part of her appreciated his reaction, though she didn’t want to admit that, either. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her with genuine appreciation.

She turned toward the shore, water up to her chin, to find Cassian standing there.

Totally naked.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, turning away like it mattered. She’d seen everything, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

He was ridiculous. The sheer size of him…Nesta shuddered. She wanted to know what it was like to feel him on top of her. Even knowing everything she knew, Nesta still wanted him. What would her sisters say if they ever learned this? Nesta couldn’t help but take another look as Cassian waded into the water.

Just like the rest of him, Cassian’s thighs were big and muscular—they looked like they could easily crush her, should he ever want to. And his cock…fuck. He wasn’t erect and yet Nesta had a good sense of the size and girth of him. Did he fit inside women, or did he merely wedge in half and call it good?

“I told you I didn’t have trunks,” Cassian said, submerging himself so she didn’t have to feel so guilty every time she looked his way.

“You could have kept your underwear on!”

“Nah,” Cassian replied with a shit eating grin. “I wanted you to look at my penis.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, if I had to guess. I’ve never seen a therapist so who can say for sure?”

“Why…why would you want that?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms over her chest as though he could see her through the murky, blue-green water. 

“C’mon, Nes—”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, immediately irritated he couldn’t remember the most basic parts of his pretend job. 

Cassian rolled his eyes, reaching for her shoulders. Nesta flung back, splashing him in the face. If he touched her she was certain she’d be ruined. Better to give the illusion of resistance, at any rate. Make him work for it. 

“Come here,” he murmured, putting his hand on her hip. Nesta’s heart thudded in her throat, gagging any potential retort. All she could think about was his broad, callused hand touching her bare skin and how close he suddenly was. “This isn’t wrong.”

Oh, but it was. He still thought she didn’t know who he was but Nesta was painfully aware that she was letting herself get felt up by a man who was part of the people hunting them. Nesta braced her hands on his strong chest intending to shove him away when a new idea struck her.

“This is nothing,” she told him, catching the flash of hurt. “It can never be anything, Cassian.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this is going nowhere. You’re my guard, I’m—if we’re going to do this, it can only be casual. Nothing more.”

Cassian’s reactions were better contained this time. Nesta had no idea what the mobster holding her was thinking. Only that he had her pinned with that stare and his thumb was rubbing lazy circles against her hip bone.

“I’ll take whatever I can get when it comes to you,” Cassian finally murmured, his gaze darting to her mouth. Nesta inclined her chin and then oh. Cassian kissed her, yanking her so she was flush against the hard slab of his body. He should have tasted like the heat—Nesta was certain she did—but somehow Cassian’s mouth reminded her of snow covered mountains and swaying pine trees. 

Nesta slid her arms around his neck before wrapping her legs around his waist. She was painfully aware of his cock and how it seemed to span the entirety of her back. That was likely the water and her arousal confusing her…though she didn’t need to reach between them to know Cassian’s cock was of monstrous proportions. 

Right then, though, it felt safe. She wasn’t having sex in the water for UTI based reasons, and kissing him was good enough. Cassian, for all his many crimes, was tragically, a good kisser. It would have been so much easier if he wasn’t. Surely he had some sort of flaw? Other than his career and his unflinching ability to point a gun at another man's face.

Nesta kissed him rougher at the memory, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The inherent violence oozing from Cassian was clearly doing something for her. Nesta knew, right then, that Cassian wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe everyone else, but she believed in her very soul that Cassian had no intention of taking her life.

Why would he be kissing her if he did?

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, the only words spoken before he returned to kissing her. Nesta took the opportunity to thread her fingers through his thick, dark hair, tossing the pony tail that kept half up off his face into the water behind them. He was so beautiful it made her sick—what happened to greasy older men in sweat suits? Since when did criminals look as good as Cassian did?

Nesta considered dragging her tongue out of his mouth to ask, but remembered only at the last minute that he didn’t know that she knew the truth about him. Better not to tell him, either—what if he decided to tie her to a chair and torture her? Why did the thought of that turn her on? 

Nesta didn’t notice Cassian’s hand until he pushed aside the thin strip of cloth hiding her pussy from the world and brushed his fingers over her aching clit. Nesta jerked in his arms, pulling away to bite his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian whispered as Nesta rocked against his hand. It had been so long since someone touched her—or, that’s what she told herself, anyway. 

Still, it wouldn’t do to just take her pleasure at his expense. Ignoring that she was desperate to touch him, Nesta lied to herself that it was only fair to reciprocate. Nesta gripped him right beneath his blunt head so she could rub her  thumb against the slit of his cock.

Cassian groaned. “Christ,” he swore, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this what you like?” Nesta asked, stroking him once.

“Harder,” he rasped. 

Of course he liked it a little rough. Nesta didn’t bother mentioning to him that she did, too. She merely tightened her grip on him and stroked again, delighting in Cassian’s open mouthed moan. Was that all it took to bring a man like him to his knees? Nesta couldn’t think about it given the way his finger was teasing her entrance. 

Cassian plunged himself inside of her, eyes on her face. “That’s it,” he murmured, arching into her hand. “Take what you need.”

What she needed was him to throw her down to the floor and fuck her senseless. Nesta wanted Cassian to fuck her so hard it reset her completely, turning off the endless stream of thoughts in her mind. Even then, Nesta forgot they were in a dusk drenched lake where anyone could walk up and witness what was happening. Normally it would horrify her.

But right then, all she could think about was what he tasted like when he came. Nesta kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his in an attempt to find out.

They lived together, she reminded herself. If she wanted to taste the rest of him she could. It was tempting to ask him to put her down, get dressed, and take her home. The only reason she didn’t want the realization that she’d talk herself out of the whole thing if she stopped now.

And Cassian’s hand felt good against her aching body. Nesta was full on grinding against him, drowning in the feeling. She barely knew what she was doing to him, though Cassian’s desperate panting told her whatever it was, he liked it.

Nesta bit the sensitive skin between his shoulder and his neck hard enough to leave the imprint of her teeth behind. Cassian’s hips bucked into her hand and she wondered just how long it had been since someone had touched him like this. Nesta knew he was close, could feel the vein beneath his cock pushing against her fingers. 

It half disappointed her when he did, though the sight of his parted lips and head thrown back felt religious, somehow. 

“Quick off the mark, huh?” she whispered, lips against his skin.

Cassian’s grip around her body tightened the moment Nesta tried to wriggle free.

“I can sit here all night,” he all but growled, fingers moving inside her faster. “But we’re not leaving until you make you come on my hand.”

“Cass—”

“That’s right,” he praised, licking from her collarbone to her ear. “Imagine how good you’ll feel when it’s my cock instead of my hand.”

Nesta couldn’t help her little moan. It was tempting to demand he show her right then and had they not been submerged in water, Nesta might have foregone all her common sense and asked him to. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself pretend the fingers pumping in and out of her body was his cock.

Cassian used his thumb to draw tight circles around her clit, working her in tandem until Nesta was panting, too, lips pressed against his sun soaked shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself, much like it seemed Cassian couldn’t, either. Nesta came, rocking her hips against him while moaning against his skin. Cassian, for his part, chuckled softly as he ran his nose through her hair. 

“I can’t wait to see you undone,” he whispered before turning her face so she had to kiss him. Nesta did, still overwhelmed by the pleasure still rocking through her. He was sweeter somehow—cooler than the air around them, softer than anything she’d ever touched.

“Do you think there are alligators here?” he asked when Nesta wriggled away, still held in his arms. She twisted to look behind her.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

Cassian only shrugged, some apprehension creeping into his expression. “Maybe we should get out.”

It only occurred to her once they were on the shore that Cassian might have wanted her to leave for different reasons. 

CASSIAN:

All Cassian wanted to think about was Nesta’s pussy clenched around his fingers. The water had washed it all away and yet he could still feel the phantom grip of her tight around him and knew that if he could get himself inside her, she’d wreck him. Cassian wanted her to—was so desperate that he began constructing arguments in his mind as to why they should that very night. 

Fuck her casual fling or whatever she’d said. Cassian wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t end with the two of them together. Seriously together. So he’d lie and pretend he didn’t mind because she’d never give him the time of day if she didn’t.

And what did Nesta know, anyway? She’d been alone for the last half decade, wholly on her own and taking care of herself. Let her see how it felt to be taken care of by someone else. She’d soften just enough for Cassian to make his move…and, he supposed, tell her the truth. After he had her and there was nowhere for her to go but back to his bed.

Sure, she’d rage and scream at him for a while…but in Cassian’s fantasies, she was so in love with him that she forgave him after maybe one well-deserved slap to the face. Perhaps two. No more, though. He’d figure Rhys out, too, which he figured would be a little easier. Maybe even welcome. After all, the youngest Archeron might be more willing and compliant if she knew her sister was part of Rhys’s family.

“Agnes.”

A man’s voice cut through Cassian’s musings. Looking up at the figure approaching, Cassian immediately decided he didn’t like him. Maybe it was the general smug look on his otherwise forgettable face.

Or maybe it was the way Nesta’s spine immediately straightened and her once soft face began icy and cold.

“Tomas,” she said without any affection or warmth. 

That should have been enough to see the man walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. Cassian might have, had she looked at him with such open revulsion. He crossed his arms over his chest instead, spreading his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to intimidate the other man. Cassian knew he was big and he knew people were wary of him.

Most of the time, they had nothing to worry about. But this man?

Maybe he ought to be a little worried. 

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Tomas said, tilting his head so Cassian could see a chunk of his ear was missing. “Busy?” Nesta only shrugged, her fingers balled to fists.

“You should hit me up some time. Finish what we started,” Tomas said, not bothering to look at Cassian at all.

“I don’t think so,” Nesta replied, never one to mince words. 

Tomas opened his mouth to respond but Cassian had enough. “Take care,” he said, shoving past without a second look. Nesta came with him, keeping close as though she expected him to grab her and start running. 

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice nearly drowned by the screaming crickets in the distance. 

“No one,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Liar. An old boyfriend?” Cassian asked, trying to imagine that man doing anything for Nesta beyond getting on her nerves. 

“Not even that,” she mumbled, her eyes strangely glassy. “We went out one time. Never again.”

Cassian felt his blood grow icy. “What did he do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she snapped, too prideful to tell him the truth. Cassian could scarcely think, his mind running through a million new images. He could Nesta, helpless and scared while a man—

“Did he touch you?” Cassian asked, not caring how he sounded. Nesta looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“He tried,” she finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I took some of his ear for the trouble.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

If only it did anything to ease his own fury. Cassian couldn’t get the images from his mind, utterly wrecking his otherwise perfect evening in the potentially alligator-infested waters. Nesta wanted the world to think she was the kind of person who wasn’t afraid of anything. That she could weather any storm.

And Cassian didn’t believe for a minute that she hadn’t been scared. 

Instead of following her to bed, Cassian once again took his place on the sofa and he waited. Just like with Brent, Cassian decided to take things into his own hands while hoping Nesta wouldn’t notice. Or, if she did notice, she’d at least look the other way. Cops went rogue all the time…why couldn’t he? 

Except, Cassian wasn’t a rogue cop. This was just who he was, who he’d always be. Some people were talented singers or good at crochet, but Cassian’s great skill was with a weapon. Slipping from the house, Cassian became one with the shadows as he channeled his inner Azriel. This place was supposed to be safe for Nesta and since he’d arrived, all he’d uncovered was endless harm that had happened.

What was the point of witness protection if anyone could just touch Nesta any which way? Why not send her back home and let Rhys—Cassian shook his head, the image of Rhys holding a gun at Nesta’s beautiful face slipping into his mind’s eye unbidden. He’d talk to his brother later—but Nesta was off limits to everyone. Even Rhys.

Especially to Tomas.

It was easy enough to find him, though. Tucked away in an old, plantation style house that set Cassian’s teeth on edge, Cassian discovered that Tomas must have come from some amount of money. His father did something—Nesta had mentioned it. He didn’t remember, too fixated on her mouth even in memory. Christ, but she’d been coming on his hand only a few hours before and if life was fair, he’d be in her bed while she came on his face, too. 

But life wasn’t fair. 

Cassian broke in through the back with ease given Tomas hadn’t thought to lock his doors. It was a blessing here in this rural little town—people felt safe. They trusted their neighbors even when their neighbors were rapists, because people in these parts thought you could tell who was a monster by sight alone.

Cassian knew better. 

Cassian slipped up the steps, ignoring the ugly art on the walls and the pictures of a life that didn’t seem worth very much. He might have been interested in other circumstances but that night, all Cassian wanted was to get back to Nesta. 

Tomas slept soundly in the master bedroom, unaware Cassian prowled the space looking for anything interesting. He found, helpfully, a phone with a text message from a woman threatening to kill him. 

Perfect. 

Maybe, he thought with amusement, they’d ask him to help investigate. Oh, how he hoped they would. 

Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, letting his weight wake Tomas gently from sleep. The man looked up, bleary eyed and still unaware that Cassian had pressed the barrel of his gun into his mouth.

“Shhh,” Cassian murmured as he brushed a piece of Tomas’s hair from his frightened eyes. “My finger might slip if you move too quickly.”

Tomas tried anyway, but Cassian was bigger, stronger, and faster. With one hand, he slammed Tomas back to the bed and held him there by the throat.

“I’ll kill—”

“You’ll what?” Cassian interrupted, cocking his weapon. “Will you try and rape me, too?”

“That bitch is a liar—”

“Try again,” Cassian snarled, pressing his gun so roughly to Tomas’s temple he was certain he’d left a bruise. At least the scene would look angry, he reasoned. Like two lovers fighting over something Cassian was certain was stupid given how dumb Tomas was. Still, he was ready to be done. 

“Whatever she told you wasn’t true,” Tomas said, apparently deciding he’d risk his own life rather than admit to anything honest. 

Cassian made a buzzing noise with his throat. “I’m sorry, that’s the wrong answer.”

“Wait—”

If Cassian had the capacity for mercy, he might have listened. He didn’t, though. Cassian pulled the trigger with a sigh, as if the entire thing was some horrible imposition. In a way, it was. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be thinking about what Tomas had done to Nesta and how no amount of killing could take any of it back. She was still hurt, would have to live with his actions for the rest of her life.

Staring down at the lifeless body before him, Cassian wished he could kill him all over again. He could have shot him a couple more times, but Cassian didn’t want to risk someone hearing him and catching him in the act. He slipped back into the night unnoticed and was on the couch before Nesta ever woke.

And Nesta loved to be up early. Feigning sleep, Cassian waited for her to speak first. “Want to do yoga with me this morning?” she whispered, coming to sit on the arm of the couch where his head was. Nesta wore a pair of tight black leggings and an even tighter top that made Cassian’s insides achey. No, he didn’t want to do yoga with her unless it was a euphemism for sex.

And then he desperately did.

“Sure,” he heard himself saying like the liar he was. It didn’t stop Cassian from pulling off his shirt just so he could watch her eyes drift down his body. 

C’mon, Nesta, he pleaded silently, Take your shirt off too.

She didn’t, though Cassian swore she wanted to. Maybe he was just delusional, reading too much into her minute expressions. He did catch her eyes slide down his naked torso briefly, and that carried Cassian through the miserable humidity as Nesta walked him through yoga. He was drenched in sweat by the time they made their way back into the air conditioning, panting from exertion and the heat. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Nesta he was going to shower. Had Cassian not turned his head at the exact right moment, he’d have missed that look on her beautiful face. Luck was with him, smiling when he opened his mouth to speak the words. 

“Cassian,” she whispered. It was the only word she needed to speak—he knew what she was thinking. Cassian merely reacted, reaching for her body and hauling her upward before she could change her mind. Instead, he kissed her with all the pent up desperation he’d felt the night before, pouring his want and need into her so she felt it.

Among other things he was sure she was feeling. Cassian was nearly dizzy from the rush of blood to his cock, legs trembling despite how easy it was to hold Nesta against that floral papered wall. 

Nesta’s mouth tasted like sunshine and mint and with little effort, Cassian managed to free her thick hair from the loose braid she wore. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, certain if he told her how he really felt, she’d freak out. Better to ease her into it.

Nesta merely fisted his hair between long, slender fingers and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Cassian could scarcely think as she bent forward and licked the column of his throat up from his collarbone until she reached his ear. When her teeth tugged against sensitive flesh, Cassian nearly came in his pants.

Fuck.

He was no better than a school boy. 

Nesta was something from his darkest fantasies come to life. Ignoring how utterly insane her body was—and Cassian was struggling to ignore that fact—the way she kissed was something from a daydream. What would happen when he got that mouth around his cock? Cassian was desperate to find out.

Desperate enough to pull her off that wall, sloppy kissing her down the short hall until he could drop her on her bed. Cassian hadn’t seen the room and despite all the bright light flooding through open windows, Cassian knew he wasn’t going to see it right then, either.

“Take this off,” he demanded, straddling her hips as she laid flat on her back. 

“Why should I do anything you tell me to?” she replied, traitorous fingers teasing the hair beneath his navel.

“Because I’ll tie you up and gag you if you don’t,” Cassian replied, too aroused by the thought. 

A soft breath escaped Nesta, those icy blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen them. Something told Cassian she’d like a little roughness, at least when they were in bed. Caught up in his fantasies, Cassian almost missed Nesta arch her back off the bed, pressing her hips against his own as she peeled off that tight top. 

All thoughts flew out of his head when she took that bra off, too. “Christ,” he thought he whispered, though maybe he just thought it. He had both in his hands before his mouth crashed against her own, teasing pretty, pink nipples against his calloused thumbs.

He wasn’t giving her back. When this was all over, Cassian would drag her kicking and screaming back home if he had to, but he wasn’t letting her go. 

Not now, not ever. 

Cassian was greedy, rubbing his cock against both the fabric covering them. He wanted to be buried within her and in service of that goal, because nipping bruising kisses along the side of her neck. 

Mine, she’s mine. 

Nesta threaded her fingers through his hair, yanking the hair tie out so his own dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Cassian felt brand-new somehow, remade in her eyes. “You are…” Everything. 

Cassian took a nipple in his mouth to keep himself from saying so, letting her imagine all the things he thought she was. Nesta raked her nails against his scalp, unaware of how good it felt to be touched like that. She wasn’t afraid of him, didn’t revere him. She wasn’t some weird groupie hoping to be a mob wife, nor was she some scared little thing that offered tentative touches and whispered words about if he had a weapon.

No one ever thought he was funny when he whipped out his cock. 

He needed to do this right, to make her as obsessed with him as he was with her. That was, when the inevitable truth was revealed, Nesta would be more forgiving. 

“These need to come off,” Cassian murmured, lips pressed to the flat skin of her stomach as he hooked a finger into the waistband of her leggings. “I need to taste you.”

Nesta merely lifted her hips in offering, leaving Cassian to grind himself against the mattress in order to keep himself together. If Cassian thought anything would be easier once Nesta was fully undressed, he was wrong. Everything about her was a dream, right down to the neat square of trimmed hair Nesta maintained between her legs.

Realizing that maybe he was just an animal, Cassian pushed apart her legs so he could look at her in the golden sunlight.

Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been a particularly loquacious man—that had always been Rhysand’s forte—but even then, nothing seemed adequate. She was perfect, too good for his blood-stained hands.

If Nesta was an angel, then he was the devil. He intended to drag her to hell with him, regardless of what she deserved. He’d already killed for this woman—twice. And as Cassian lowered himself between her legs, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing it. Cassian’s allegiance shifted right then—he was still a General, but he served Nesta Archeron first.

Everyone else, second.

The first taste of Nesta Archeron’s pussy was an awakening. Cassian groaned, unconcerned with seeming unaffected or like he had his life together. She was so wet and sweet and when his tongue found her clit, Nesta arched herself closer in encouragement. That was all Cassian needed to convince him to pull her against his face, breathing be damned.

All Cassian could think about was her face and what she’d look like when she came. He tried to look at her, but Nesta’s breasts got in the way of his view…not that Cassian was complaining a whole lot. There were worse things he could be staring at. Everytime Nesta took a breath, her breasts jiggled, sending a thrill of arousal straight to his balls. Did he rush his way through eating her out to feel her wrapped around his cock? Or did he take his time so he could continue staring at her tits?

Deciding he’d just use his finger as a replacement for his penis, Cassian slowed the circles he was making around her clit to gently push himself into her body. Whatever he’d been imagining was nothing like the reality of having her body clenched around him. Silken heat utterly stopped his whole body, turning Cassian into a mindless robot capable only of chasing pleasure and nothing more.

He needed to be inside her. Cassian didn’t want to wait and yet he didn’t pull himself away, either. Vowing he could do a better job, he returned to licking her with a vengeance while his finger began pumping in and out of her body.

Just wait until you see all the things I want to do to you, baby.

Next time he’d sit her on her face and have her suck him while he took his time. The thought was so arousing that Cassian desperately ground his cock into her bed, unable to stroke himself. He wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. He knew the second he got himself inside her, he’d have minutes to get her off again before it was all too late.

Better to have her come on his tongue, just in case. 

And she did, fisting his hair to hold him close, taking what she needed without a care or concern. Was this love? Cassian was certain it was. Moreso when he raised his head and she pulled him toward her, not worried that his mouth was wet from her. Nesta kissed him like she wanted him, like she was drowning in all the same feelings he was.

And when he notched the head of his cock against her still convulsing cock, he nearly told her everything. How he felt, the truth about himself—everything. Her tongue was in his mouth, which was the only thing that kept Cassian from speaking. He would have rather died than stopped. 

Though, she stopped when Cassian thrust himself inside her, arching her neck to look at the shared space between their bodies. “Cassian,” she whispered, squeezed so tightly around him that somehow, Cassian couldn’t breathe.

“You can take me,” he replied, because what else was there to say? He was buried to the balls in her body and the only thing that could have convinced him to stop was her direct plea to remove himself.

Nesta looked up at him. “Who said I couldn’t?” she asked, fiery as ever.

Cassian couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, sliding himself out as much as he could stand—which wasn’t much, to be fair.

It was pleasure like he’d never experienced, like how he’d once dreamed it might be back when having sex with women was just a distant fantasy. No one could compare to the perfection that was Nesta Archeron, and no one ever would. 

“You fuck me so well,” he panted, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. What did she like, he wondered? What did it take to get her off? He wished he’d asked before hand, if only to ensure he wouldn’t fuck this up. “Tell me how you liked to be fucked.” Nesta’s gaze found his, sharp enough to kill him if she’d wanted. “You talk too much,” was her only reply.

Cassian couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop his desperate thrusting, couldn’t stop his babbling.

“You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I’ll bet you’d be prettier on your knees,” he said, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

Nesta moaned loud enough that anyone passing by wouldn’t have to guess at what she was doing. Good. 

“You belong to me,” he panted, watching as she began to crest again. Her cheeks were flushed, her long hair a tangled halo around her beautiful face. And her tits bounced up and down just the way he’d hoped they would back when he’d been eating her out. He’d never forget this, would spend the rest of his life stroking his cock to the memory. 

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her throat just enough to heighten her pleasure without scaring her. “You’ll always be mine.”

Nesta came with a strangled scream, clamping the walls of her pussy around him so tight it felt like she was intentionally trying to pull the come from his balls. It worked—Cassian came, too, burying his face in her shoulder to breathe her in. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, not thinking about what he’d just done.

All he could think about was how good it felt—and how badly he wanted to do it again.

Cassian needed to get her out of this place before they got caught.

He needed a plan.

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Four

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: Refusing to believe that the kids are dead, Joyce tries to connect with her son and Steph. The boys give Eleven a makeover in order to connect with their loved ones. Hopper turns up his detective game. Steve has a slight breakdown, while Nancy and Jonathan form an unlikely alliance.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 13,951

🎲Date: 7/4/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Talks of Mental Health Issues; Bullying of All Kinds; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Heavy Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; One Comment About Being A Pedo; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Total Mess; Jessica & Charles Harrington's A+ Parenting; Steve's 'Asshole Era'; Steve's Emotional Damage. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Happy 4th, everyone! What a better way to celebrate then with an angsty fic? Heads up, this does contain less of us being in the Upside Down, and there's a reference to Hopper's childhood with Joyce and Claudia. There's also a bit of a mystery surrounding Steph and Dustin's father, so keep that part buried in your mind for future chapters. Also... there's a bit of a cameo in here I think everyone will enjoy :)

Nancy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The view of the quarry on the TV made her feel sick. She wants to change the station but she can’t – none of her family can’t because the news is so shocking. It wasn’t until her little brother came home, tears streaming down his face and running into their mother’s arms for comfort, that she realized it was all real. 

After a few minutes of gathering her strength, she manages to slip into the kitchen to grab the phone, dialing a number close to heart. She wipes the corner of her eyes, trying to put up a good front before the call. She has to be the strong one here, especially since–

Then the other lined beeps followed by a voice that says, 

[ ‘Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later, or leave a message after the tone, and hang up when you’re finished.’ ]

“Shit.” She whispers, and waits for the beep again. “Steve, it’s Nancy, it’s…” She sighs. “Listen, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Just give me a call back, please.”

She hangs up, taking a moment to think. Whether he admits or not, she knows he still cares in some way for Stephanie. And he’s not going to be in the best state if he’s seen the news.

Not even thinking twice about this sudden thought, Nancy grabs her car keys out of the bowl, ignoring when her parents asked her a question and leaves out the front door. 

She just has to know if he’s okay.

That’s it.

That’s all she needs to know and do.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will was… mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted. Heavy on the latter. They thought they were finally doing well, they thought they were finally going to get an answer –a way to get back– but every time they tried, they get back to square one. 

The beast that had no face, its growls could send shivers down their spines and curse their souls, kept finding them. But how? It had no eyes, no nose, no ears, just a mouth hidden its folds; How could such a thing keep finding them? And that voice…

The voice was new. And for some reason it scared him more than the beast.

.

// I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING. //

.

I know what you’re doing. 

What does that mean? Could the monster actually speak? Was someone else in this place with them? Did someone or something not want to escape? What is it? What is the answer? What can they do?

He doesn’t know who slowed down first, but they eventually stopped somewhere in the trees. Will was taking in the cold, dirty air, a tickle was blooming in his throat while doing so. He felt like he was on the verge of getting sick, probably the temperatures doing, but didn’t want to express his concerns. They had other problems to worry about.

“What are we going to do?” He asked, unaware of the older girl’s swaying moments and gaze going distant. “Do we go back? Do we try another place? But that’ll probably be a waste right? But can really go back with that–”

“I’m s-sorry…” She whispers that it turned into a small pant. It was enough for him to turn around and question:

“Why?” He manages to spill out before her body drops like a stack of dominos. “Stephanie!!” He lunged forward, his tiny body was only good enough to cradle her head. “No… No…” 

He starts ripping everything on her away, the shotgun, her backpack, and holding her sleeping head in her lap. He knew this would have happened sometime soon, especially when she admitted earlier that she hasn’t slept since getting stuck here, too worried about his safety rather than her own, and now look where that’s gotten her. 

“Steph… come on. W-Wake up. Pl-Please…” Will pleads, lightly tapping her cheek. “Come on. You can’t do this to me now… w-why is this happening n-now?!”

Stranded in the woods, a monster lurking somewhere in the dark. 

What was a twelve year old boy going to be able to do? It’s not like he can carry her and all their belongings somewhere, right?

He couldn’t help but start crying, like a child scared of the creature under his bed, and started holding the teenager close like she was his lifeline.

“♪ C-Come o-on and l-let me know ♪”  He whispers, face pressed against hers. “♪ Sh-Should I-I stay or should I g-go? Should I-I stay or should I go now? If I g-go th-there will be trouble. If I stay it will be double– ♪” 

He sobs, shaking. “St-Stephanie…”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Telling a family about their loved one was never easy, especially since the deceased were from families he knew personally growing up. He still spoke carefully though after him and his men looked around the house just in case they missed something. He spoke softly, not wanting to hurt her anymore than she probably is.

“A trooper found something in the, uh… water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie… crashed her car, and they... made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” Hopper explains, but he can tell she’s not listening (at least not fully). “Joyce? Joyce? Do you understand what I’m saying?

“N-No…” She trembles, in denial. “Whoever you found… is not my boy. It’s not Will.”

“Joyce.” He says, reaching out to touch her shoulder, which she shrugged off. 

“No, you don’t understand. I talked to him… a half hour ago.” She sniffles, and tries to remember every detail. “He was... He was here. He was... He was talking with these.” She gestures to the lights. “Him and Stephanie. Th-They both were here.”

“Talking?” Hopper asked, his composure breaking. It was like looking in the mirror for him. He remembers the denial, the pain of losing a child of his own.

“Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no. And... And, uh…” She then points to the alphabet wall. “And then I made this so they could talk to me. ‘Cause they were hiding… from that... that thing.”

“The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?”

“Y-Yeah.” 

“Mom, come on, please.” Jonathan begs, heart breaking for his own mother. “You’ve gotta stop this.”

“No, maybe they’re… It’s after them!” She snaps, grabbing onto her son for his support, both physically and emotionally. “They’re in danger. We have to find Them! We—”

“What exactly was this thing? It was some kind of animal, you said?” Hopper asked, as she shook her head.

“Uh, no, it was… It was almost... human, but it wasn’t. It… It had these long arms and... it didn’t have a face.”

“It didn’t have a face?” His gaze meets the teenager’s, and he silently tells him to leave. Jonathan does, running off somewhere to cry himself. “Joyce–”

“It didn’t have a face…”

“Joyce, listen to me.” He helps her sit down on the couch, and he kneels before her. “Listen to me.” He starts getting teary eyed too. “After Sarah… I saw her, too. And I heard her. I didn’t know what was real. And then I figured out that it was in my mind. And I had to pack all that away. Otherwise, I was gonna fall down a hole… that I couldn’t get out of.”

“No, you’re... you’re talking about grief.” She shakes her head again. “This is different.”

“I’m just saying that you–” 

“No, I-I know what y-you’re saying, Hop. I sw-swear to you, I-I know what I saw. And I’m n-not crazy.”

“I’m not saying that you’re crazy.”

“N-No... You are. And I understand, but… God, I…” She sobs. “I need you to believe me. Please.” She then whispers, “Please.”

“Listen…” He takes her hands into his own. “I think you should go down to the morgue tomorrow and see him for yourself. It’ll give you the answers that you need. But tonight–”

“Oh, God…”

“-I want you to try to get some sleep, if you can.”

“Sl-Sleep?” She asks him, and he nods. She couldn’t comprehend this, couldn’t understand why he won’t believe her. She thought she could trust him, they’ve known each other through thick and thin and he’s just going to forget about all that? That’s…

That’s bullshit.

She shakes her head, pushing his hands away. “I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. And no one, I mean NO ONE, is going to change my mind.”

Hopper’s expression deepens. “Joyce–”

“Get out of my house.” She spats, and leaves the room. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The black BMW pulled onto Cornwallis Road and drove towards the destination he still has in the back of his head. The radio was up, a song that was setting the mood, or matching it more likely. 

[ ♪ If you leave me now

You’ll take away the biggest part of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go ♪ ]

His hands regripped the wheel, trying not to cry again.

[ ♪ And if you leave me now

You’ll take away the very heart of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go

Ooh, girl, I just want you to stay ♪ ]

He starts to slow, parking off to the side, a curb across the street where he needed to be. 

[ ♪ A love like ours is love that’s hard to find

How could we let it slip away? ♪ ]

He saw the lights were on, he saw her brother’s bike in the grass and her mother’s car in the driveway. He knows they’re both home, but did they know the news like he did? 

[ ♪ We’ve come too far to leave it all behind

How could we end it all this way?

When tomorrow comes and we;ll both regret

The things we said today ♪ ]

Steve swallows, debating whether or not he should go up there. Will Stephanie’s mom remember him at all? Will her little brother Dustin tackle him as soon as he remembers their history? But despite their shaky past, he still owes the family his condolences, right? 

But just as he was about to get out of the car, he perked up at the sound of sirens coming down the road, and could see the blue and red lights flashing in the night sky. 

Huh. Maybe they didn’t know. Yet even after the swarm arrived in front of the Henderson home, Steve couldn’t help but stay and wait.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Claudia was hysterical, probably more than Joyce was; Yet, she was also more accepting about their theory. Hopper repeated it again, the mother was sitting down with her youngest on the couch. “A trooper found something in the water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie crashed her car, and they made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” 

Claudia sobbed into her handkerchief. “Oh, my poor baby. Poor Will.” 

“I’m so sorry.” He frowns, his face softens again too. “I know this is going to sound hard, but can you come down to–”

“That’s bullshit.” Dustin interrupted, finally speaking. His face was still puffy and his eyes were red. From being a complete mess earlier, he now looks like he was full of rage.

Hopper blinks, confused. “What?”

“That’s a bullshit theory!” He yells, jolting up.

“Dustin!” Claudia scolds.

“What? It is!” He points to himself. “M-My sister is smarter than that! Will’s smarter than that! It doesn’t matter if they were being chased, they wouldn’t have fallen into the Quarry!” 

“Dustin!” She says again, and then looks at the other adult. “Chief, I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand.” Hopper replies, accepting the apology. Now it was his turn to look at the kid, treading water carefully. “Look, Son–”

“Don’t call me that!” Dustin says, shaking his head.

“Kid–”

“Then where’s the shotgun?!” He replies, making Hopper’s heart sink (He didn’t even think about that). “Huh? You found their bodies, then where’s the gun? And why did they take the gun in the first place? What made them run off the road? Who was chasing them? You aren’t answering any of the obvious fucking questions–”

“Dustin!” Claudia yells, grabbing her son by his wrist. “Show some respect.”

“Fuck, respect.” Dustin pulls himself free. “He ain’t doing his job.” And then he storms out of the room, his mother calling out his name and apologizing once again.

“No, don’t be.” Hopper reassures. “He just lost his only sister. I understand.”

She nods slowly. “Okay. What were we saying before he interrupted?”

“Just, in the morning, if you can, come down to the morgue to verify Stephanie’s body. I’ll already be there with Joyce and her son.” 

“O-Okay. I can do that.” She takes a shaky breath. “Hopper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… for trying to bring her home these past few days.”

His eyes widened slightly, not really expecting that kind of reaction. He was honestly stunned and felt like a failure again. “Claudia–”

“No. Don’t.” She takes his hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “I’ve known you since middle school, I know how your mind thinks sometimes. So please don’t feel guilty. I know you were giving it your all to find these kids. Even though… I-It was… a t-terrible outcome, you still found my daughter. You still brought her home.” Another squeeze. “So thank you. James.”

Hopper was speechless, ending up just giving her a nod and a promise to see her tomorrow. As he steps outside, he swallows the urge to start crying again.

“You going to be okay, Chief?” Callahan asked, meeting him halfway down the driveway.

“I’ll be fine.” Hopper replies, a half-lie. “I just need to…” He trails off when he sees a certain someone across the way. What is he doing here?

Callahan follows his gaze, confused. “Hey, isn’t that the Harrington boy?”

“Wrap everything up. I’ll meet you at the station.” Hopper leaves him behind and starts walking towards his target. 

“I was going to pay my condolences but I saw you guys pull in.” Steve says, leaving against the driver door with a sad expression.

“Kind of creepy for someone who says they aren’t friends anymore.” Hopper pokes, hands on his hips – all business again.

“Just because we’re not friends, doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I mean, this house was practically my second home growing up.” It kind of hurts to say that. He looks down, can’t even look the man in the eye while asking this question, “So is it true?”

“Yeah.” Hopper says, sadly. “It is. I… saw the bodies myself.”

Steve shifted his weight around, his chest feeling tight. “Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.” What was with all this in denial? “Look, son, I–”

“Are you going to be there at the morgue?” 

Well that was a weird question. “Yes. I will be.” Hopper pauses. “Why?”

Steve shifted again, this time looking the adult in the eye. “‘Cause… there’s probably going to be something on… her body that her family’s not going to be able to explain. It’s…” He sighs. What am I even doing? She’s… gone. The Chief saw her body. This is all real it’s–

“Son?” Hopper said, getting a hum. “Continue? What do you mean about her family not going to be able to explain?”

He swallows, and stands straighter. “When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

His blue eyes rake over the scar, thinking. “You said it was a scar?” Hopper asked, getting a nod. “You know scars tend to fade over some time.”

“I know. But hers was much deeper than mine.” Steve pulls his sleeve back down. “If mine’s still here, I’m pretty sure hers is too.”

He takes a minute to process this. “Okay.” This was still leaving a weird feeling in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He has to, but how the fuck is he going to explain the still secretive accident to Claudia? He sighs. “Aren’t you going in?”

Steve shook his head. “Probably not.” His sad eyes fell on the house. “How distraught are they?”

“Her mother’s a mess, but is accepting, can’t say the same thing for her brother. If looks could kill, he would have.”

“Gotcha. I’ll just…” He swallows, eyes starting to sting again. “Say my condolences at the funeral.” Steve opens his door up, not making eye contact with the adult. “‘Night, Chief.”

“Hey.” Hopper says, stopping the door from being closed. But as soon as their gazes locked, his brain went to a halt. What else could he say? “Nevermind. Get home safe, ‘Kay?”

The teenager nods, letting his door be closed before pulling away. Hopper’s not sure why but…

He feels like he’s missing something here.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin was curled up in a ball on his bed. He was hugging a pillow tightly, tears quietly rolling down his face. He didn’t think he had anymore tears left in him, but they just kept on coming. 

His sister is dead.

If he didn’t see her body himself, he wouldn’t believe it. 

No more nights of bothering her to watch some cheesy movies.

No more waking up fighting over the bathroom and eating breakfast together.

No more friendly, stupid banters about cryptids.

No more listening to her about customers driving her up the wall.

No more could he slip under the covers with her when a nightmare overtakes him.

No more could he wait by the front door for her so they could go to school.

No more of… anything. It was just him and his mother now. Just him and his mother to make ends meet. 

He choked on the memories, gripping the pillow tighter. “Phanie…” 

.

.

.

The sound of static makes him jolt upright. Heart skipping a beat, he realizes it was coming from his bag. He groans, a mixture of frustration and sadness. He wasn’t in the mood for anyone right now, not even his friends. He just wanted to grieve in peace until at least morning.

He wiggles his walkie talkie out, pulling the antenna all the way up and pressing the button. “Look, guys, please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk right now. Okay?”

He lets go of the button, waiting for a reply that was nothing more than static came, followed by–

[ ♪–on and let me know ♪ ] 

He drops the walkie like it was made of fire and practically jumps a few feet back. The static was loud, but you couldn’t miss that voice. That voice coming from the speaker sounded a lot like–

[ ♪ Should I stay or should I go? 

Should I stay or should I go now? 

Should I stay or should I go now? 

If I go there will be trouble 

If I stay it will be double– ♪ ]

He heard a sob, and a whisper of,

[ St-Stephanie… ]

Dustin’s eyes widened with realization. There’s no way he could miss that. He almost felt like crying again. 

“...W-Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy’s knuckles knocked on the door thrice, before trying the doorbell. She crossed her arms when the wind blew harder, wishing she had enough time to grab a sweater or something before she left. She tries the door again after silence, this time the door springs open. She’s met with a woman who was taller than her, dark locks a complete mess, face flushed red. 

She batted her eyes at the girl while clinging to the door. “May I help you?”

“Uh… is, uh, St-Steve home?” Nancy asked, trying to keep her gaze up high on the woman that was clearly wearing just a bra and panties.

“Steven?” She hissed, defensively. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m… Nancy, his girlfriend.” She recognizes the voice. “I think we spoke on the phone–”

“OH! NANCY! Yes! The Wheeler, girl. Yes, I remember. Awe…” Jessica Harrington reached up and pinched her cheek. “You’re just as adorable as I imagine.”

“Um, t-thanks. Uh–” Nancy wouldn’t be lying if she wasn’t already feeling uncomfortable. “Is this a bad time? I can come back–”

“No, no, no. Never. Never, dearie.” She said, practically dragging the teenager inside. “Come in, Steven should be back any minute now.” She shuts the door, head turning in another direction. “Charles, are your pants on? Our son’s girlfriend is here.” She smiles. “So how did you two meet? Are you in the same class?”

“Um–”

“So you’re our son’s lover?” Charles Harrington slurred out as he came literally stumbling into the hallway. Face as red as a tomato, hair disheveled and missing his shirt. “I never understand why Steven decided to hide you. You seem so nice.”

“Uh, thank– thank you.” Nancy said, hiding the urge to scrunch up her nose at his alcoholic breath. “Look, if he isn’t here, I’ll catch him in the morning–”

“Nonsense. You should stay.” Jessica urges. “It’ll be nice to get to know you.”

“Yes. Please–” His hand comes up to the girl’s shoulder. “Come sit with us.”

Nancy, this time, visibly shuddered. “I–”

“Get your hand off her, Dad.” Steve’s voice echoed out as he entered through the back door. His face seemed calm, but nobody could miss the fear in his eyes and the anger that was making his hands into fists. 

“Steve?”

“Steven!” His mother exclaimed, all bubbly. “We were just getting to know your girlfriend.”

Steve gets between them, pulling Nancy close and away. “Mom, please, put a robe on. Dad, a shirt.” 

“Yeah, son.” His father said, his hand coming around and grabbing a firm hold of the front of his child’s sweater. “How come we weren’t informed about this news, hmm? How could you do this to me and your mother?”

A bead of sweat rolled down Steve’s face, as he started pushing his girlfriend towards the door subtly. “Um, well, Dad–”

“You better have a good explanation.”

“Yeah, Steven.” Jessica said, her hand finding his forearm. “What gives?”

“‘Cause we-we’ve only been dating for a week.” Steve spits out the lie.

Nancy flashes him a look of confusion. “A week?”

“Yeah.” He gives a look now, hoping she gets it. “A week, Nancy.” He then sees the realization in her eyes.

“Yes.” She smiles and chuckles. “Well, it’s a week and a half, actually..”

“Oh, you and your technicality.” He smiles too, hand reaching back to the door knob. “That’s what won me over in math class. Uh, Listen, Mom, Dad, uh, we’ll have to plan a proper dinner out so you get to know Nancy. Okay?”

“Sure she doesn’t want to stay over for a bit?” His mother asked, with a look he didn’t like. “We don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t. But it is a school night, and it’s late. We also got uh, uh, a huge test tomorrow. So we should get some rest, you know?”

She frowns. “Awe. Okay. We can definitely plan a date.”

“Perfect! We can talk about it later, uh–” Steve opens the door and manages to get out his parents’ holds. “Just going to walk her back to her car.”

“Like a proper gentleman.” She smiles again, and gaze trails to the Wheeler. “You definitely scored with my son.”

“Oh, for sure. I agree.” Nancy said, getting forced outside.

“Be right back.” Steve replies, stepping out too and shutting the door.

“Steve– Hey!” He grabs her hands and strings her along quickly; She felt like they were sprinting down the driveway. “Steve?” She tests out his name as he takes a look back at his house before picking up the speed. “Steve! Talk to me! What is–”

“Don’t come to my house.” He blurts out the moment they are in front of her car. 

She blinks. “What?”

“Don’t…” He exhales. “Don’t come to my house. At least at night. ‘Cause my parents like to… party, or…” He groans. “Actually, don’t come to my house alone. When my parents are here, make sure you only come when I’m there or I’m with you, alright? Do you understand?”

No, she certainly does not. “Steve, what do you mean? Why don’t you–”

“Did my mom say anything?���

Another blink. “What?”

“Did my dad do anything? Like… h-how uncomfortable were you? B-Be honest, Nance.”

“Steve, I don’t…” She trails off when she finally sees him whole. He seemed so… distraught. And she knows it’s probably not just about the sour news of Stephanie. For some reason, he’s scared of her going into his house. “Steve.” She tries again, softer. “What’s going on? Are your parents hur–”

“Why are you here, Nancy?”

She frowns, worriedly. “I was just wondering if you heard the news?”

Steve looks down at his feet. “About Will and Stephanie?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “I-I heard…”

Nancy gently cups his face. She could see the corner of his eyes were red and irritated. Crying. Steve must have been crying. “Are you okay?”

Steve stayed quiet, building up the courage to speak – to make it sound confident. “Yeah. I’m fine. It just… caught me off guard.”

“You sure? You can talk to me. I’m not going to–”

“How’s your brother?”

She bites her lip. “Mike’s… really upset. I mean who wouldn’t be when it’s your friend.”

Steve hums. “Maybe you should go back. Check in on him.”

“But, Steve–”

“I appreciate you coming over and making sure that I’m okay.” A bittersweet look blooms on his face. “Really. Your compassion is one of the things I love about you. But I think you should go home to your family. They’re probably wondering where you’re at.”

She shakes her head. “Steve–”

“As for my parents, forget about tonight. I’ll… I promise I’ll explain them to you one day, but for now, just forget you ever met them. Okay?”

She gave in, not wanting to argue. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” He gives her a quick kiss, and pulls away. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night…” Her blue eyes trail him as he heads inside, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Was he going to be alright? Should she call someone? Should she–

A twinge snapped behind her.

She turns around, the sound coming from the woods. She squinted and took a small step – a shadow moved across the bushes – tall, lanky… no face– What?

She heard the shadow shift around again, and then swore she heard a growl coming from it. Paling instantly, Nancy took small steps back towards her car, feeling around for the handle. Once she grasps it she gets in, hands tightly on the steering wheel. Swallowing, she takes one look back over her shoulder, the shadow to have disappeared into the beyond. 

Death.

Disappearances.

A thing with no face.

What the hell is happening to Hawkins? 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help himself! He knows what he heard, he knows that was Will. He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, his mind in overdrive on what and why and how this was even possible. But sometime in the night, an idea hit him hard. 

The next morning, he made sure his mother was okay, and fit enough to go to the morgue. She already told him the night before that he should stay home, playing the kid card on him. Usually, he would have been upset at this statement, but this time he decided it was time to hold his tongue. As soon as Dustin saw the car leave, he wastes no time to pop open his walkie talkie antenna, tuning into a certain channel. 

“Lucas, do you copy?” He said, waiting. He was met with static, but he just knows his friend is nearby and listening (His friends are never far away from their source of communication). “Lucas, come on, I know you’re there! This is urgent.”

Nothing.

“I’m serious. I’m not gonna stop until you answer.”

Nothing again. 

“Lucas. Lucas! Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas–”

[ ‘Go away, Dustin. I’m not in the mood, all right? Over and out.’ ]

“No, not ‘out’. I’m not messing around, okay?” He starts pacing around his living room. “This is about Will and my sister. Over.”

[ ‘What about them? You mean about their funeral? Over.’ ]

“No, not their funeral. Fuck their funeral!”

[ ‘W-What?’ ]

“Just get over to my place, stat. And tell Mike to bring Eleven too.”

[ ‘Eleven? Why? She’s the reason–’ ]

“JUST DO IT! OKAY!” He yells, face red, open hand in a fist. “Over and out!”

[ ‘Dustin–’ ]

Dustin pushes the antenna down and shuts the device off. He knows Lucas will listen, even if he thinks he’s lost his mind, he’ll still listen. His eyes fall on a family picture on one of the side tables, his heart skipping a beat.

“Don’t worry, guys. We’re going to find you no matter where you are.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, down at the Coroner’s office, Hopper waited impatiently for… what? Half an hour now? He sighs. “What’s taking so long?”

“Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.” The receptionist, Patty said, upset as well.

Hopper perks up at this news. “Without Gary?” That doesn’t make sense. “Where’s Gary?”

“Well, I thought you knew. Those men from State, they... they sent Gary home last night.”

“So who did the autopsy?”

“Someone from State.” 

Someone from State? I mean, the crime scene made sense, but the autopsy? Why would they send someone to an autopsy? On two kids no less? He wanted to ask more questions, but that’s when the oldest child of the Byers’ family came out looking sick to his stomach.

Hopper can tell he was trying to hold it all together the best he could. Poor kid. 

“How’s your mom doing?” He asked, after a while of silence. 

Jonathan sniffled, head still hanging low. “I don’t know.” He whispers.

“How long’s this stuff been going on? With the lights and, uh… Will and the thing in the wall?”

“Since the first phone call, I guess.” A sob. “You know, she’s had anxiety problems… in the past. But this… I don’t know.” He exhales shakily. “I’m worried it could be…” He shakes his head. “Ugh, I don’t know. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. My mom… she’s tough.”

“Yeah, she is.” Hopper said, getting a chuckle out of the kid. He then placed a firm hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey. She is.”

That got Jonathan to cheer up for just a second before it crashed down again. Joyce came storming out, the coroner following behind with a clipboard asking her to sign; Which she’s flat out refusing.

“I don’t know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!” She shouted, waving him off.

“Joyce, wait a second.” Hopper said, standing.

“No!” She snapped, and hustled out the door, Jonathan following right behind. As soon as she leaves, it was like a chain reaction, because Claudia just arrived. 

She already had a hand covering her mouth at the sight of seeing Joyce. “I-I… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Hey, hey–” Hopper comes over reassuringly. “Hey, Claudia. It’s okay. I know it’s hard, but it is necessary.” He sees her closing her eyes to steady herself. “Would you like me to come in?” She nods. “‘Kay. Let’s go. Come on.”

He walks her to the back, telling the coroner who they’re here for, and was left waiting for him to get the body. 

“I don’t know how to thank you, James. You’ve always seemed to help my family when we’re in a rut.” Claudia said, trying to hold it together. 

“Just doing my job.” He replies, with a warm smile.

“Still.” She looks up at him fondly. “I don’t think I appreciated you enough when you helped put Walter away.”

Walter. He remembers her shitty husband very clearly.

He nods. “Well, if it wasn’t for that anonymous tip, I wouldn’t have been able to have done that.”

She hums. “Yes, the tip.” She sighs. “I wonder who has the guts to do that.”

Yeah, he always wondered who the tipper was too. 

“You ready, Ma’am?” The coroner asked, after wheeling on the table.

Claudia nods, her hands squeezing together. “Yes.” She inhales. “Show me.”

He does so, and she holds back the urge to cry again upon seeing her daughter’s body. She couldn’t help but wonder why God would take such a beautiful girl.

“Oh, god… that’s her.” She mutters, biting her lip.

As Hopper was able to keep his composure, he was suddenly hit with a memory like a speeding truck. He almost completely forgot about what the Steve Harrington kid told him last night.

.

“When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

.

The scar. Of course! How could he forget? His lips tugged into a frown, and began with, “Claudia, there’s…”

Wait a minute. 

His gaze went straight for where the boy told him the scar would be but there was…

Nothing.

He blinked and looked on the other shoulder just to be sure but there was nothing either. If Steve’s scarred, then hers should have been, right?

“Chief?” Claudia said, pulling him out of his trance. “Did you say something?”

His eyes glance at her and then back at the body before shaking his head. “No.” Then back at her. “Never mind.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve was late to school the first time in a while. His clothes looked a bit sloppy, his hair did too, and he was practically dragging his backpack on the floor with only its handle. He had managed to avoid the girlfriend talk this morning with his parents since they were both hungover and still in bed. He’s not really sure how he’ll handle it later (If they actually remember Nancy that is). 

He took his time moving through the halls, trying to straighten up his posture, to put up somewhat of a nice expression. What would Tommy and Carol say? Would they belittle him? Ignore him? Pretend that the death of a school student didn’t exist? And what about Nancy? Will she say anything? Will she ignore him too?

He frowns, the intercom buzzing above.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Stephanie Henderson in the gymnasium 10am. Do not go to second period. Classes shall resume afterwards. //

An assembly? For Stephanie? How many people will actually go? How many people would actually be respectful? She wasn’t exactly miss popular.

He shakes his head. Don’t even think that, Harrington. It’ll be fine. It’ll be…

He trails off as soon as he rounded the corner. He didn’t need super sight to know what it was. For some reason instead of leaping towards it like he should be, he was slow, sick by the sight. Someone, probably more than one, had vandalized her locker. Someone had spray painted, egged, beat the living hell out of it with either a bat or a crowbar, all because she was what? The weird girl? The girl who was nerdy? The girl who likes stuff only guys like? The girl who’s vocabulary is like a sailor? 

The girl who doesn’t fit in unless it’s with the “freaks”?

With disgust, Steve pulled off the missing poster of her. Someone had scribbled horns, covered the eyes, and called her a freak in bright red. How could someone with a heart do this to the one of the kindest girls he’s ever met?

He crushed the paper in his hand, before opening up the locker, some belonging falling out. He sighs, dropping his bag before deciding to tidy this up. Maybe he should bring her family her things so they don’t have to see this mess?

“Hey, shouldn’t you be in class?” A teacher, Mrs. Trebecky said, hands on her hips.

Steve glances over at her, his look telling it all. “I’m just trying to clean it up.” Her eyes trail over, finally seeing what he was talking about. Yet he didn’t care if he got scolded or got detention for skipping class, this was more important. But to his surprise, there was a key suddenly dangling in his face.

“There’s a storage closet around the corner. Use whatever you need.” She replies, and he takes it. “I have to prepare the gym for the assembly, but if you need something else, feel free to come get me.”

Steve clenches the key close as she leaves, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. At least she wasn’t mad. 

He starts walking to where she said it was, only to spot another odd sighting. There was a boy (who looked oddly familiar to him) leaning against the wall right by the door – the same door that was actually opened. Raising an eyebrow and slowing his pace, he didn’t know what to think or even say before the boy saw him coming. It was like a match had been lit under his feet, the boy jerked up so quickly, and threw the door open even wider.

“We’ve been spotted! We gotta go!” He shouted and took off. 

Steve then watched as two other teenagers came running out, faster than anyone on the football team. What the hell is that all about?

But he chose to ignore it, opening the door fully, nearly clashing with some else that was left behind in the group. The person seemed startled to see him, taking a small step back and growing a bit paler. It didn’t take the King of highschool to realize who this is – the person with brown curls tucked back in small ponytail, with a wardrobe that reminded him of Stephanie – The person was know another than:

.

Eddie Munson.

.

Well now he knows why he looks scared. Steve nearly cringes and cusses at himself out loud for what he’s done in the past. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Instead, he kept his blank expression and started moving around him. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Munson.” He replies, looking over all the cleaning supplies on the shelf.

“It’s…” Eddie begins, still tense, but confused by how simple and nice Steve sounded. “Fine. Um… Wh-What brings you here? N-Need something?”

“Relax, I’m not here to cause any trouble.” Man, how many people has he hurt with his new personality? “I was going to clean up a vandalized locker.”

Eddie perks up, even more confused. “The Henderson girl’s locker?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… surprising.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Steve frowns, sparing a glance. That’s when he notices he’s holding a few sponges and a bucket. “Oh. Were… were you going to clean?”

“Um–” Eddie breaks his gaze. “M-Me and my boys saw it on our way in, thought we would clean it up. Hope I don’t get in trouble for picking the lock.” He ends with a quiet, nervous chuckle which honestly fueled the other boy’s guilt.

“Is that so?”

“Well… W-we do know what it’s like to have our lockers destroyed by the… ‘perfectionists’.” 

Perfectionists, fuck. Steve swallows and mentally strangles himself. What have I done?

He exhales quietly, and starts gathering things. “You should go.”

Eddie’s distant gaze snapped right back at him. “What?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Steve says, not looking at him. “I know you’ve been trying to graduate.”

“How–”

“Go.” Steve pressures. “Don’t…” Why was this so hard? “Don’t fall behind. Especially in Kaminsky’s class. He’s a hardass if you don’t listen and study.” 

Eddie was speechless. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe it was coming from the legend of the school himself (Guess there was a first time for everything, right?) “You sure? Doesn’t… Doesn’t the King of Hawkins High want to keep his good grades up?”

“I don’t care anymore.” Steve replies quickly, surprising the other teen again, but it was the truth. He could care less about all this right now. “Frankly, I didn’t want to even be here today, so…” 

He didn’t say anymore, instead he tried holding whatever he could in his arms. Silently, and luckily he noticed it in the corner of his eye, he saw Munson holding up the bucket as an offer. He takes it and thanks him. He loads it up and makes his way to leave, but stops in the doorway. 

“You know she liked your band.” Steve blurts out, getting another puzzled stare. “Uh, Fia, she– wait.” Fia. He almost forgot about his little nickname for her. It makes his stomach roll into knots as he tries again. “S-Sorry, Stephanie… really liked your band. She went to your show a few years back. Uh, the Lover’s Lake one. She is– w-was definitely a metal head.”

That seemed to surprise him a lot, because Eddie actually perks up with joy this time. There even was a smile tugging on his lips. 

“She’s seen Corroded Coffin?” He asked, intrigued. 

“Yeah. She really liked that opening song of yours.” 

“‘To Love a Monster’?” 

Steve nods, still remembering that day so clearly, still remembering the day he showed her the tickets. “She sang it for weeks afterwards. It was… funny. Cute– Awesome! It was awesome.”

Eddie gave him another look, one he couldn’t quite place. “That’s… amazing. I never knew that. Most of our fans are just people from our neighbourhoods.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, feeling his eye starting to sting. “Just thought I’d let you know that since you… offered to clean up her locker.” He swallows once more, and he tries to leave, but his conscience gets the best of him. It’s now or never, Harrington.

Looking like a kicked puppy, he faces him again. “I’m sorry.” Steve says, honestly. “I’m really, really sorry for everything I’ve done. I know I haven’t been the most pleasant with you and your– your bandmates, and I realize that I’m an asshole. A real fucking asshole, so– um…” He didn’t have to forgive him, he just wanted to get it out there. “I don’t need forgiveness, but at least accept it.”

Steve didn’t even wait for his answer, didn’t wait for a change on his face, and just left to finish what needed to be done.

Meanwhile, Eddie watches him leave just as his friends come running back, worriedness on their features.

“What did he do? Do we need to report him?” Gareth asked, scaredly.

“No, he…” Eddie still couldn’t believe the last few minutes even happened. “He apologized.” He looks over at them. “For being a dick.”

“What?”

“And then he said that Henderson girl went to our Lover’s Lake concert a few years back.” That response got his friends muttering amongst themselves. 

“She did?” 

“How would Harrington know that, though? All our tickets are limited.” Jeff asked.

“Unless…”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “They were friends.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin snuck his friends in from the back, immediately rambling last night’s situation. Of course he got looks of concern, and sentences of reassurance before he shook them all off and showed them. They sat around on his bedroom floor, fiddling with the walkie. It was faint, and it certainly wasn’t the song he heard last night, but he could tell by the mumbling words that it was in fact Will.

“We keep losing the signal, but you heard it, right?” Dustin said, looking between them.

“Yeah, I heard a baby.” Lucas said, looking at his friend like he had three heads.

Dustin looks offended. “A baby?”

He rolls his eyes. “Dustin, you obviously tapped into a baby monitor. It’s probably one of your neighbours.”

“Uh, did that sound like a baby to you? That was Will!” 

“Dustin…”

“Lucas, you don’t understand. He spoke last night. Words! He was singing that weird song he loves. And he even said my sister’s name.”

“Oh, well, if the of you heard your sister’s name, then I guess–”

“Are you sure you’re on the right channel?” Mike asked, genuinely invested in this.

A small smile blooms on Dustin’s face. Finally! At least someone believed him. “I don’t think it’s about that. I think, somehow, I was channeling him.”

“Like... like Professor X.”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah.” 

“Are you actually believing this crap?” Lucas asked, staring at Mike like he was the weird one here.

“I don’t know, I mean… Do you remember when Will fell off his bike and broke his finger? He sounded a lot like that.”

“Oh, my god.” Lucas groans “Did you guys not see what I saw? They pulled Will’s body out of the water. They pulled Stephanie’s body out of the water too. They’re dead!”

“Well, maybe it’s their ghost. Maybe they’re haunting us.” Mike replies.

“It’s not their ghost.” Dustin said, shaking his head. 

“So how do you know that?” Lucas pushes.

“I just do!”

“Then what was in that water?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin shoots to his feet. “All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive! If he’s alive, then there’s a good chance Stephanie is too. They’re out there somewhere. All we have to do is find them. And I know for fact…” He points at Eleven. “She’s the key.” He frowns, and looks her way (Guilt on his face). “I’m sorry for how I reacted last night. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, just the situation. But I know you’re really our only shot at finding them. Please forgive me.”

It took a second, but Eleven nods and smiles with understanding, lifting the weight of the boy’s shoulders. 

“Well…” Mike begins, stopping him from handing over the walkie. “If you want her to somehow channel them, this isn’t gonna work. We need to get El to a stronger radio. Like, Mr. Clarke’s Heathkit ham shack.”

Dustin perks up. “That’ll totally work!”

“The Heathkit’s at school.” Lucas butts in. “There is no way we’re gonna get the weirdo in there without anyone noticing. I mean…” He gestures. “Look at her.”

But the Henderson brushed him off. “Don’t worry about that. I have an idea.” And then they busted into his sister’s room. “You might have to roll up the pant legs and/or sleeves, but Phanie’s stuff should be able to fit you just fine.”

“Uh, no offense to Stephanie–” Lucas begins, watching him rummage through his sister’s drawers. “But she’s not exactly the definition of girly-girl.”

“So? Look, we just want to get El inside the school. Mike, go to my mom’s room and grab some of her makeup. Lucas, head to the basement, I think we might have some wigs left over from a couple Halloweens. Go!”

They scatter, and Dustin continues grabbing what he can and lays it out on the bed. “Here.” He tells the girl. “Try a couple outfits on. See what fits.”

El takes a moment to look at them, mesmerized. “Pretty?” She asks, puzzled.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “We’re going to make you look pretty. Or at least prettier.”

She bats an eye. “Prettier?” 

“Yeah. They say, ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’. Just because someone doesn’t think you’re pretty, doesn’t mean everyone else does.” It seemed to get her spirits up just as the other boys arrived with the stuff.

“Got the makeup.” Mike said, holding the pile in his arms.

“And I found a wig. Hopefully this works.” Lucas says, holding it up.

“Perfect.” Dustin gives the thumbs up. “Let’s do light on the makeup, and let’s put a braid in the wig.” After their tasks, the boys waited outside the door for her to change.

“Is that really the best wig you could have found?” Mike said, after a few moments of silence. 

“What’s wrong with the wig?” Lucas asked, offended.

“Don’t you remember? That was the wig Steph used to dress up as a clown.”

“It’s not that orange, Mike.” Dustin said, Lucas agreeing.

“It’s orange.”

“Dude, come on–”

The door opens, and El steps out to reveal the outfit she picked. It happened to be a Mötley Crüe band tee that was tucked into some jeans, a red and black plaid button up as a jacket and some converse; Her wig was in a neat braid and was accompanied with a headband.

“Wow.” Mike said, staring.

“It’s like my sister has a prodigy.” Dustin said, grinning. “Grunge girl, 2.0.”

“How do you feel?”

Eleven looks herself up and down before smiling at herself. “Pretty.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was pretty awkward to sit outside the cafeteria doors waiting to be called in and questioned by police. Nancy was the first to be called in, the first to have a parent actually show up to observe. It felt weird, and she could feel her mother’s eyes watching her closely.

“This argument you and Barbara had? What exactly was it about?” Powell asked, after reading over his notes.

Nancy gives a half-shrug. “It wasn’t really an argument. Barb just wanted to leave. I didn’t, so, I… I told her to just go home.”

“Then what?”

“Then I went upstairs to put on some dry clothes.”

“And the next day, you went back and…” Callahan reads over his notes too. “Saw a bear, you’re thinking?

“I don’t know what it was, but… I think…” She frowns. “I think maybe it took Barb. You need to check behind Steve���s house— 

“We did. There’s nothing there. There’s no sign of a bear.”

“And no car.” Powell adds.

She blinks, confused. “What?”

“Look.” Callahan sighs. “We figured that Barbara came back last night and then she took off, went somewhere else. Has she ever talked to you about running off? Leaving town, maybe?”

“No. No, Barb wouldn’t do that, ever.” Nancy assures.

“She wasn’t maybe upset about the fact that you were spending time with this boy?” Powell glances down again. “Uh, Steve Harrington?

“What? No!”

“Maybe she was jealous because she saw you go up to Steve’s room?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“Steve and me, we’re... we’re just friends. We... we just talked.”

“Just talked?” Callahan gives her a look.

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. Just talked.” She wanted to say something else until the door opened, showing off to another officer.

“Hey–” He said, thumb jerking over his shoulder. “The Hagan and Perkins kids, they’re parents aren’t coming, they refuse for us to talk to their kids. Harrington’s parents said they’re too busy with work to come, but have given us permission to talk to their son.”

Powell sighs, looking over his partner who shrugged. “Alright. Send them home. Except Harrington, have him come in. You–” He looks at Nancy. “You’re dismissed.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“So, Gary, tell me about these troopers that brought in the kids.” Hopper asked, after settling Hawkins local coroner down. He told him to come down to the station, offering him a cup of joe as he tries to get a few things straightened out. He still finds this whole… State taking over everything is a bit odd.

“It was about six of ’em, I’d say.” Gary replies, with a nod.

“They’re all Staties?”

“Yes, sir. Never seen that many troopers come with two bodies before.”

“They told you that they were gonna take care of the autopsy, huh?”

“Yeah. Claimed jurisdiction. Kicked me out. Well, it all seemed a bit over the top to me, considering…” He looked a bit nervous about this. 

“Considering what?” Hopper asked, suspicious. 

“Considering this was Will Byers and Stephanie Henderson and not John F. Kennedy.”

So this wasn’t just weird to me? Great. His eyes catch something on the tv, making him stand up. “Thanks for stopping by, Gary.”

“Sure thing.”

Hopper tunes everything else out as he turns up the volume, listening as a state trooper talks to the reporter about the incident. 

.

< -let the people know that, uh, the troopers are on duty and you should be safe, because we think this is just an isolated incident. >

< State trooper David O’Bannon, thank you so much for your help. >

< Thank you, sir. >

.

O’Bannon. Gary. Staties. Hawkins Lab. Hopper’s frown deepens. What does this all mean?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And that’s when Jim came up with another question that he needed to answer. Something that’s been nagging him since yesterday. So that’s how he found himself at Hawkins High School. He had to swerve around the teens leaving the gymnasium from Stephanie’s assembly, and just hoped that his guys were still in the cafeteria questioning some suspects. Well… hopefully the one he really wanted to talk to was still there.

“Oh, hey Chief.” Callahan calls out, just as Hopper bursts through the doors.

Hopper’s gaze trails to the teen in questioning – and thank god it was the person he was looking for. With a serious look he storms over, completely ignoring everything and everyone else.

“We just got done with–”

“I need you to give me the room for a second.” Hopper blurts out, the two officers staring. “Now.” Callahan and Powell waste no time to get up and leave, the whole place growing silent immediately. 

Steve glances between the door and the police Chief, confused. “Is there a problem?”

Without saying anything, Hopper reaches over and lifts Steve’s left arm sleeve, seeing the scar again. Blinking, and kicking his senses into high gear, the teenager pulls his arm away – the officer looking like he was scared. 

“Dude, what the fu–”

“How long ago was that?” Hopper asks, practically fidgeting in his seat. 

“I’m sorry?”

“How long ago did you get the scar?”

“Um, I…” Steve pauses to think. When did he get it? “Three… three years ago? Maybe longer?”

“And you said both your injuries were deep? Especially Stephanie’s?” 

“Yeah.” He nods, suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

Hopper suddenly is overcome with worriedness, causing him to look around and lowers his voice. “Listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I’m only going to say it once. Understood?” He waits for the teenager to nod again before going. “Good.”

He takes a deep breath. “Look, her mother’s a mess, hysterical. And her brother is just… angry. I want to ask them stuff, but I think it’ll be an emotionally… fusing answer. They’re not going to be able to give me something basic. So what I’m trying to say is, I don’t care what happened between the two of you, but be honest. How well did you know this girl?”

And Steve, of course, doesn’t lie (he too wants to know what the hell’s going on). “Pretty well, I like to think. I mean we were tied at the hip since the age of five. We never really went anywhere without each other.” He frowns, scared. “You’re kind of making me nervous. What’s going on?”

Hopper looks around again, getting closer. “Just answer my questions. How likely was it for Stephanie to pick up Will that night when she saw him stranded?”

“Highly.” Steve says, truthfully. “She loves her brother’s friends.”

“How likely was it for her to protect him from whatever was chasing them?”

“Highly. That’s the kind of person she is. Putting herself before others.”

With each answer, Hopper’s heart picks up. “How likely was it for her to take a weapon if she felt like she was in danger?”

“She’s not exactly a violent person, but… if she was in danger, she’s smart enough to arm herself.”

“How much is she familiar with the woods around here?”

“Only certain areas she really knows like the back of her hand.”

“What about the Quarry?” 

“The Quarry?” Steve said, fond memories coming in. “That used to be our spot when we were kids. We know the ends and out of it pretty well.”

Now Hopper feels destroyed. He was half expecting this answer but still. It wasn’t easy to accept. “So… hypothetically speaking, if she was being chased in the direction of the Quarry, how likely would she have fallen in?”

Steve gets taken aback, his heart sinking. “Unlikely. She always knew where she was going.” He was oblivious to the way the Chief suddenly looked. “So it wasn’t the news making a theory? Stephanie and Will actually fell into the Quarry?”

“Fuck.” Hopper says, standing up and starts leaving.

Steve gets up as well, following. “I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

Steve just nods, scared to talk back as the Police Chief finally left with the answer he was worried about – while Harrington was also left with a question that was now answered. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad.” Mike says, as they entered the school. Right on cue, someone came on the PA, which is the perfect cover up for them.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period. //

“It’s locked.”

“What?” Lucas said, brushing by Mike to try the door.

“Hey, do you think you can open it? With your powers?” Dustin asked, hopefully. But before anything could be resolved, their teacher just so happened to appear around the corner. 

“Boys?” Mr. Clarke said, startling them. “Assembly’s about to start.”

“We know. We’re just, you know…” Mike trails over, pretending to be sad. 

“Upset.” Lucas finishes.

“Y-Yeah, d-definitely upset.” Dustin adds.

“We need some alone time.”

“To cry.”

“Yeah, listen… I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let’s just be there for Will, huh? And then…” Mr. Clarke fishes his keys out of his pocket, tossing them over. “The Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?” The boys smiled and nodded eagerly. “I don’t believe we’ve met. What’s your name?”

El’s eyes widened, and stutters, “Eleven–”

“Eleanor!” Mike corrects. “She’s my, uh–”

“Cousin.” Lucas says.

“Second cousin.” Dustin blurts out. 

“She’s here for Will and Stephanie’s funeral.” Mike finishes. 

Mr. Clarke frowns, bittersweetly. “Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances.”

“Thank you.” She says.

“Uh, where are you from exactly?”

“Bad place–”

“Sweden!” Dustin shouts.

“I have a lot of Swedish family.” Mike explains. 

“She hates it there.”

“Cold!” Lucas adds, smiling nervously.

“Subzero.”

Mr. Clarke nods, deciding to just go along with this. “Shall we?”

“Yep!” They said, running along.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You lied to the police!” Karen snapped at her daughter as they entered the house.

“I didn’t lie!” Nancy shouted back, about to head for her room.

“How naive do you think I am!? You and Steve were just talking?”

The teenager gritted her teeth, stopping on the stairs. “We did just talk! Okay? I found out Steve used to know Dustin’s sister, and we talked about it! Is that what you want to know? Huh? It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter!” Her mother shouts back.

“No!” Nancy scoffs. “It is all bullshit! It has nothing to do with Barb and she’s missing. And something terrible happened to her. I know it. I know it! And no one is listening to me!” She storms off towards her room, her mother shouting her name repeatedly. “Just leave me alone!”

And then her door slams shut.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Listening to the principal speak, the boys realized he probably was the only one who actually cares. The rest of the school, the students, looked like they were completely lost and not interested in listening to this. 

“Look at these fakers.” Mike mutters, irritated. 

“They probably didn’t even know his name till today.” Lucas scoffed.

The boys continued to survey the area, they heard the two school bullies laughing. Troy and James were laughing and mocking what the principal was saying about their friend Will, completely berating him. The Boys glared, all while Eleven put two and two together. 

“Mouth breather.” She says, remembering what Mike told her who was responsible for the gash on his chin.

He was actually surprised she remembered, and continued to try to ignore their laughing. But when assembly finally ended, Mike couldn’t hold back his anger any more.

“Hey! Hey! Hey, Troy! You... you think this is funny?” 

Troy stopped and scoffed. “What’d you say, Wheeler?”

“I-I saw you guys laughing over there.” Mike said, oblivious to the audience he was getting. “And I think that’s a real messed up thing to do.”

“Didn’t you listen to the counselor, Wheeler?” James said, smiling. “Grief shows itself in funny ways.”

Mike balled his hands into fists, and ready to snap; Just as Dustin steps up to the plate.

“What did I say yesterday? You keep my sister’s and Will’s name out of your mouths.” He replies.

“So what, Henderson?” Troy shrugged. “Besides, what’s there to be sad about, anyway? Will’s in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay– and your sister… well… I didn’t take her to be a pedo for your little friend.”

Dustin’s face morphed into one of a killer. “You–”

“Asshole!” Mike shouted, and shoved their bully to the floor. Immediately, their audiences gasp in shock. 

Troy groaned, and stood up, charging up his fist. “You’re dead, Wheeler! Dead!”

But before he could release it, his whole body froze. Everyone stared in confusion, even Troy didn’t know what was going on. Then…

A student started laughing. 

“Dude, Troy peed himself.”

And the giggles broke out because everyone’s eyes were on his pants. Sure enough, there was a stain appearing and running down his pant leg.

“Holy shit!” Dustin said, his gaze looking back to El. She flashes the boys a cocky look before wiping the blood from her nose.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” The principal shouted as he entered the room.

“Shit! Let’s go!” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan was surprised to see her at the Funeral home, interrupting his shopping (Although, seeing all these coffins and trying to find one for his little brother, maybe it was best to take a break). To his disbelief, she asked him to see his collection of photos from Steve’s backyard.

Of course, now he was nervous. Did she change her mind about protecting him the other day? Was she going to rat him out to the police after all? But instead, she carefully looked through them, until she found one he took of Barb. 

“That’s it.” Nancy said, putting on the weird distorted blur behind her friend. “W-What is that?”

He takes it from her hands, studying it hard. “It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn’t using the wide angle.” He frowns, uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s weird.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else out there?”

“No. And she was there one second and then, um… gone. I figured she bolted.”

She sighs. “The cops think that she ran away. But they don’t know Barb. And I went back to Steve’s… and I thought I… saw something. Some… weird man or… I don’t know what it was.” She glances over at him, realizing what she was doing. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I... I shouldn’t have come here today. I’m…” She grabs her purse and stands up. “I’m so sorry.”

Jonathan right there and then decided to bite the bullet. His mind wandered back to when the police came over to tell him and his mother what happened to Will. “What’d he look like?

She stops a few steps away, turning around. “What?”

“This man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know.” She knows she is going to sound crazy when she tells him this. “It was almost like he… he didn’t have–”

“Didn’t have a face?”

Nancy stares at him, a bit freaked out. “How did you know that?”

Jonathan suddenly shakes his head, running a hand through his locks. “Shit…”

“What?”

“Shit.” He stands up, guilt on his face. “I think I fucked up.” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

None of this made sense.

Steve had parked his car off the road and had walked a path he knew like the back of his hand. He found himself soon standing above the Quarry, a view of where the crime scene had happened. It was still tapped off and there were two cop cars still sitting there, observing. He frowns, and his brain starts going into overdrive. 

None of this made sense. 

She crashes her car not far from the boy’s house, they both run and somehow end up with a shotgun. But the police are saying they ended up in the Quarry, probably being chased but…

It doesn’t make any sense. The Byers house does face the road that takes you to the Quarry, but there’s no logical way that they would follow the road like that. If the theory was true, and they did run back to the house, they would more likely would have run through the front door, and out the back if someone was chasing them; Which means–

They would have ended up going into the woods, not the direction of the Quarry. And you wouldn’t make that harsh right turn unless the chaser was making you do that. No…

If someone was chasing you, the human reaction is to keep running straight until you find somewhere or someone safe. 

And if they did get pulled in the direction, there’s no way they would have just fallen in. Steph knows that place too well, and even though they were driven to the edge, wouldn’t the smart thing to do is use the shotgun on your chaser?

His mind wanders back to the conversation with the police chief. He seemed so spooked after he told him the truth. And what was the worried reaction after looking at his scar again? Unless…

Did… Steve nearly choked on the thought. Did her body not have the scar?

But if it didn’t have the scar then…

He gasps.

.

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.” 

.

Not you too? What does that even mean? Did Stephanie’s mother have doubts too? Did Will’s mother have doubts? Was he really doubting the whole situation from the beginning as well?

But his mind kept going back to Hopper and him just an hour ago.

.

 “I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

.

Oh, god.

Steve couldn’t even believe what he was considering doing next.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper sat in street clothes at a bar, a shit eating grin on his face, a cigarette in hand, and he was keeping a close eye on the man sitting next to him who was currently watching a football game on the tv. He chuckles, getting the bartender’s attention. 

“Another, please. And another for my, uh, friend here.”

“Oh, thanks, man. Appreciate it.” The guy, a Statie, named David said. 

“Yeah, that’s all right. I’m, uh... I’m celebrating. My daughter, she won the spelling bee today.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Hopper said, chuckling. “‘Odontalgia’. That was the word. You know what it means?” He gets a ‘no’ for an answer. “It’s a fancy name for a toothache.” His grin grows. “Yeah, she’s smart. She’s real smart. Don’t know where she gets it from. I’ve been tryin’ to figure that out for years.”

“Your daughter, she got a name?”

Hopper’s brain short circuited for a second. “What?”

“Your daughter? What’s her name?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sarah. Her name’s Sarah.”

David grabs his bottle and holds it up. “To Sarah.” He said, and they clink their glasses. The police chief finally had the hook in place.

Hopper takes a sip, and turns up his acting skills. “I recognize you. Are you famous or somethin’?”

“Uh, you might have seen me on TV, I, uh... I found those kids.”

Gotcha, asshole. Hopper nods. “So, you on that case or what?”

“I just saw the kids on patrol, you know? Dumb luck.”

“So that Quarry, that’s, uh… that’s state-run, where they found those kids, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Hopper starts laughing quietly. “Yeah, well, that’s funny. ’Cause, you know, I know for a fact that it’s run by the Sattler Company. Frank Sattler? Decent guy, still got a couple operational quarries up in Roane.

David starts looking preoccupied. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.” He starts glaring. “So why are you lying to me, man?”

“What’s your problem, bud?” David snaps.

“I don’t have a problem. I’m just a concerned citizen.”

“Yeah? Well, stick your nose someplace else. Those kids are dead. End of story.” He stands up and throws some money on the counter. “Thanks for ruining the game, dick.”

Hopper shakes his head, almost pitying the guy. If only he had just been honest and open with him, he wouldn’t have to get his ass beaten. 

Kind of like right now. 

He had dragged the man behind the building, striking him multiple times to bruise his cheeks, and open wounds under his eyes and nose.

“Okay…” Hopper pins him to the wall. “Let’s try this one more time.” He grabs the man by the chin, squeezing. “Who told you to be out there? What were you doing out there?” He watched for an answer, and when he wasn’t getting any, he dialed back his fist.

“I don’t know!” David shouts. “I don’t know. They… they just told me to call it in and not let anybody get too close.

“Get close to what?!”

“The bodies.”

The bodies? Why? Hopper huffs and squeezes tighter. “Who do you work for? The NSA? Hawkins Lab?” He catches David’s gaze falling behind him and looks, spotting a black car in the distance. “Who is that?”

“You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Who is that? Hey! Hey!” Hopper takes off, pulling out his gun. But to no avail, the car was already off. And so was the Statie in question. He looked around, gripping his hair. “Fuck…”

What the fuck is going on?!

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will didn’t know what to do. Stephanie had passed out, and is still passed out after all this time. He had a blanket draped over her, and propped her head up against her backpack. He didn’t know if she was coming down with something either or not because the temperature was making his hands feel numb even with the gloves on.

What can he do? The only thought that crossed his mind was going back to his house and trying to contact his mother. But the problem with that is, is he’ll have to leave Steph behind. There’s no way he can carry her back, no way he can drag her back either without collapsing himself, and then what? The monster comes and gets them while they’re unconscious? 

Heck, no!

But… that means the first option is the only logical way to do this.

Will decides to lighten his load, only taking the shotgun with him and scrambles to find something to write on. He still had his school notebook in his bag and wrote a quick message on one of the pages.

WENT TO GET HELP. 

Then he placed it right next to her head. He hopes she doesn’t freak out too badly before and after reading the note, and hopes when they do reconnect she won’t scold him (She’ll probably will, but he can have hopes). 

He looks down at her one more time before retracing his steps back home. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Come on.” Mike ushered them inside the room, closing it shut and showing El where to sit by the radio.

“Now what?” Dustin asked, almost nervously. 

“She’ll find them. Right, El?”

El nods and closes her eyes as Mike starts turning the radio on. Almost immediately she locked onto something, a muffled voice coming through. The boys, minus Lucas, perked up at this with joy.

“She’s doing it.” Dustin said, smiling. 

“She’s finding them!” Mike says, nearly jumping with joy. 

“This is crazy.”

“Calm down. She just closed her eyes.” Lucas said, and right on cue, almost a way of telling him not to underestimate her, the light above them shattered and went out.

The boys gasped and huddled closer. Then that’s when they heard something else come through other than static. There was the sound of something banging. Banging on what? They couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“What is that?” Dustin asked, confused, but they continued to listen for anything else.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“COME ON! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Joyce was blasting her youngest favorite song, hoping to get some communication again. She practically begged whatever higher force there was to get her to talk to her son again.

“COME ON! WILL, STEPHANIE! I NEED ONE OF YOU–”

Then the banging came.

She immediately stops the music, listening. She slowly walks over to the wall where she saw the faceless thing last night, and puts her ear to it.

|| Mom? ||

She gasps, hands pressing against the wall like she could grab him. “Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| M-Mom? ||

The boys took a step back in shock.

They heard him. 

They actually heard him. 

“No freaking way!” Lucas said, and everyone began shouting his name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Mom... || 

“Will!” Joyce yells, her heart hurting at the sound of her baby boy crying. 

|| Please… ||

“Will! Will!” She starts banging on the wall, and clawing at the wall paper.

|| Mom!!!! ||

“Will! I’m here! I’m here!” She manages to snag the corner of the paper and begins peeling it off. “Oh, God…”

|| Mom!!!! ||

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Will!” Mike shouts.

“Will, it’s us! Are you there?” Lucas says, getting closer to the radio.

“Can you hear us? We’re here!” Dustin asks, getting close too. They can hear him, even if it’s a bit distorted, so why can’t he hear them? “Will? Hello?! Will!”

|| H-Hel-lo? M-Mom? ||

“Why can’t he hear us?” Lucas asked, worriedly. 

“I don’t know!” Mike yells, scared. “Will!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Baby…” Joyce cries as the wallpaper came down, and revealed a weird color bubble on her wall. She wasn’t even going to question it when she finally saw movement behind it. 

|| Mom?! || 

“Oh, God. Will!” She could cry. “Oh, thank God. Baby… Will…”

|| Mom… || 

She could hear something growling from the other side, and could barely make out her son’s scared face. 

|| Mom, it’s coming! ||

“Tell me where you are!” Joyce said, banging on the bubble. “How do I get to you?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys stared, completely afraid for their friend because he sounded like he was going to break at any moment. And that weird growling wasn’t helping the situation either. Where the heck was he?

|| I-It’s like ho-home, but it’s s-so dark… It’s so da-rk and empty. An–d-d it’s cold! A-And Step-hanie’s passed out! ||

Mike gasps and looks at Dustin. “She is with him.”

“Jesus…” The Henderson said, covering his mouth with his hand.

|| I do-n’t kn-know what t-to do! Mo-m? M-m-mom! || 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Listen to me!” Joyce said, with all the might of her voice. “I swear I’m gonna get to you, okay? But right now, I need you to hide. I need you to get Stephanie and hide!”

|| Mom, please! ||

“No, no, listen! Listen, I…” Her heart skips a beat when the growling gets louder. “I will find you both, but you have to run now! Run! Run!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Then the radio bursts up into flames, immediately setting off the fire alarms. Dustin kicked himself in high gear, running over to the extinguisher and pulling the pin. 

“El, are you okay?” Mike asked, after the fire was put out. But the young girl stared at him, and you can clearly tell she wasn’t here. “Can you move?”

“Shit! Blood, Mike!” Lucas points out, as the red liquid gushes out of her nose immensely. 

“Jeez! Help her up!” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“And you’re…” Nancy questions as he watches him fiddle around with the machine in the room engulfed in red light.

“Brightening. Enlarging.” He explains.

“Did your mom say anything else? Like, um, where it might have gone to, or…”

“No, just that it came out of the wall.” Jonathan sighs as he finishes with the machine before carefully placing the photo into the water.

“How long does this take?”

“Not long.”

She nods, fiddling with her hand. “Have you been… doing this a while?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Photography?” She clarifies, and he shrugs.

“Yeah.” He gives her a nervous look. “I guess I’d rather observe people than, you know… Talk to them. I know. It’s weird.”

“No!” She shakes her head.

“No, it is.” He chuckles, and grins. “It’s just, sometimes… people don’t really say what they’re really thinking. But you capture the right moment… it says more.”

“What was I saying?” Nancy asked, a smile creeping up in her face.

“What?”

“When you took my picture.”

He frowns. “I shouldn’t have taken that.” He looks away. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry. It’s just–”

“That’s it.” She said, getting his attention. “That’s what I saw.”

Jonathan gasps quietly at the sight of it, a disgusting, tall figure that didn’t have a face. “My mom… I thought she was crazy ’cause she said… that’s not Will’s body. That he’s alive.”

“And if he’s alive–”

“Then Barbara.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve couldn’t believe he even had this thought, but he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of the Coroner’s office. He sat there with the engine off, rethinking everything.

“Oh my god…” His forehead touched the steering wheel. “What am I doing?” But he gets out anyway, heading inside and turning on his charm to hide his nerves. “Hello, Ma’am!”

Patty pulls the phone away from her ear. “Hey, uh, can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, my brother, I think he left something behind. I‘m sure it’s still on the seat. If you don’t mind me looking, that is.”

“Oh, well…”

“Please?” He begs, and shows her the doe eyes. Well, they worked because she told him he can go ahead. “Thank you. I’ll just be a minute.”

And now it was now or never.

Steve strolls through the hallway, spotting, to his surprise, a cop sitting on a chair by the door he needed to get in (Guess he’ll question this situation later). “Hey, I love that book.” He says, the cop springing to his feet “It’s a nasty mutt.”

“Hey, you can’t be back here.”

“Yeah, I know, but I just got off the line with uh… you know.”

“Know what?”

“You…” Smacks lips. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

And that’s when Steve decks him the side of the head, before sending another punch to the jaw that renders him unconscious. He still can’t believe what he’s doing, even after snatching the keys from the guy’s belt. He looks around worriedly as he unlocks the door to head inside. His nerves were being shot through the roof as he arrived at the freezers, and with a shaky hand he started opening the doors up, reading the name tags that were tied on the deceased’s toes.

When he found Stephanie’s he nearly vomited. And when he finally pulled back the sheet he nearly fainted.

Ever since their friendship ended the only time he’s only ever seen her was when they would pass by each other in school, and that wasn’t very often. But this…

This is different. This is sick. This is violating. 

It hurt to see how pale she was, those bright blue eyes of her closed, her brown locks brushed back from her face.

He swallows and looks away. What the fuck am I doing?

He takes a deep breath, and pulls the sheet back more, stopping before it shows off her chest. He still had the courtesy to not see her naked, not like this anyhow. It wouldn’t be right. But when he finally took the rest of her in, his heart got stuck in his throat.

The scar… on her shoulder was…

Non-existent.

That doesn’t… what? Steve knows this isn’t right. He remembers the incident so clearly, he remembers the scar they both promise to hide from their families. So if he had his still, then where was hers? Is this what was spooking the police chief? 

Now it made sense why Hopper was asking those questions to him. He must have seen Stephanie’s body without the scar and wanted to ask how long ago it was. 

Now it all made sense. 

Steve, without even realizing, had reached down to touch the spot where the scar should be. His brown orbs widened at the touch. For being a deceased body it was–

Completely dry.

Now, he might not be the most book smart person despite keeping his grades up for his parents sake, but even he remembers his science teacher explaining the stages of a dead body. Something about the body puffing up and releasing fluids. So why is it dry? And secondly, if Steph’s mother showed up for the autopsy, then where’s the incision marks?

.

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

.

Steve shuts his eyes again, another shaky breath as he takes out his knife from his back pocket, flicking it open. He has to know, he has to know if his doubts are real. He starts by putting the tip on her shoulder, before stopping.

But what if he’s wrong? What if this is really her? 

He groaned, every kind of emotion was coming through. What if I’m wrong and I just butchered my first friend? 

He sighs. Well…

He’s not going to know until he tries.

“Fuck.” He whispers, before digging the tip into her shoulder. Cringing at the sound of the skin breaking. He continues until he gets to the end of the collarbone, and puts the knife aside. 

It was the moment of truth as he slowly digs his hand into the cut, half expecting for his hand to touch bone or get drenched in a vein but…

Steve might as well be as pale as this corpse as soon as touched something that shouldn’t be in there. Scaredly, he pulled the substance out. 

It was cotton. Stuffing that was used in pillows or children’s toys.

He didn’t know whether to be happy he was right, or upset that he was. He still almost couldn’t believe it. 

“What the fuck?” He manages to say before he hears the door behind him open wider. Out of instinct, he grabs his knife and spins around, expecting the receptionist or even that cop he knocked out to be there, but not him.

Jim Hopper was staring back at him, out of uniform and looking surprised to see him here too (That’s probably why his gun was out). Both of them didn’t say anything, and the adult’s eyes shifted to the table behind him. Jim hustles over, Steve sidestepping quickly – I mean he’s caught red handed anyway. 

And that’s when Jim saw what Steve saw.

That’s when they both realized…

.

.

.

.

Something’s going on.

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

@mirkwoodshewolf @sadbitchfangirl @olivewisp @emsownuniverse @unspecifiedvisitor @smaryamsstuff @kitty49646 @jinxeee @bookkeeperlove @prozacgooble @goth-baby98 @aainr @luca-random-stuff @catradorapotter

[kedaked]

Ok i lowkey wrote smths its ass but i wanted to share because its crossover related and all

Still here it is

I

I

I

V

Power is a disease, a disease that's supposed to make you feel strong and make you feel like you are best version of yourself, capable of doing anything at any given moment, a sickness so deadly that its capable to corrupt the minds of those who port the disease, making them into shallow cells of who they were before and losing their humanity in the pursuit of more of it, people addicted like junkies, Max is one of the porters, but this power, rewinding power more precisely doesnt feel the way a candidate for president should feel when they get elected and doesnt feel like the captain of a winning award football team keeping up their score, hell, it doesn't even feel like being a dictator of a country that so desperately wants you out of where you are but they cant do anything because you have the power.

She feels like she's dying, almost everyday of using her powers feels like one step closer to the end, nonstop headaches, bloody noses, blurry visions...the whole package of an anemic teen, the beatings havent stopped either, cliques want to start shit against the group for no other reason than to torment Jimmy more about the weight on his shoulders that is being accused of killing girls, one of them being his girlfriend, sure it sucks to be Max but it must suck to be Jimmy way more, right? Her head throbs as the thought passes through it, a cough escaping her mouth.

She should feel proud of where she is now, not every 15 year old gets superpowers like she does. She also has a super cool investigating friendgroup which she hangs out with and have made more progress than the cops in the cases of missing students! But instead it hurts, with great power, comes great.....shit.

"Here, have this Max, it will make you feel better, it's what i used to give Chloe everytime she got the flu." Max hears the accented voice of Joyce Price as the weight of the bed shifts, the woman now sitting beside her laying frame, holding a cup on her hands, smoke coming from the top signaling that its freshly made.

The door creaked open, letting a ray of light enter, Chloe wanted to see how Max was doing without disturbing her, she felt guilty enough with how she was making her go through to find Rachel and Zoe, if this was what having a superpower was like she thanked that no tribes or spiritual beings chose her to be the one to have them, she slowly closed the door and layed her back on the wall next to it.

"She's becoming a burden, Chloe." Said the boy who came after Max left, a seriousness in his voice that was so out of character for him, Gary had his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze directly on her face, until they finally made eye contact. She knew, she knew he was right but she would never tell him so, to what? Fill his ego even more than it already was? To make him even more arrogant? No, she didn't think of him that way, he could still see through her turmoil, as he did when they first met each other.

"We can't just leave her here and do all the work ourselves, she's the one with the powers--"

"Do you really believe that? That she has some kind of supernatural force within her? How do you know she's not lying?"

Oh yeah, that's when she remembered that Max and Gary never knew eachother before, the line between being with her and being with him being to blurry that maybe a fantasy of them being all friends slipped through as a wannabe memory, he doesn't trust her like she does. Leaning away from the wall she took a step in his way, her expression a mix of frustration and confusion, not sure whether to be angry at him for doubting her best friend's word or to be angry at herself for knowing that she didn't fully believe in her fully.

"She wouldn't lie, she's my friend---"

"What am i then? What is Jimmy? Are we just people you can use to your advantage? Because if you know us, or at least me for that matter, you would know well i'm not happy being on the recieving end of those kind of situations, Price."

"Gary-" she couldn't finish before her mom came out of the room, empty cup in hand, she exchanged a look with both of them before nodding and going down the stairs to the first floor. Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose before laying again on the wall, all of this was a headache, a big fucking fatass headache she was dealing with.

Hour-long seconds passed before the blonde girl bitterly attempted to make conversation again, they were too different from one another but so painfully similar at the same time, which ironically made them act even worse than how they were when they were kids.

"You need to understand that what we're doing is bigger than any of us, and you're part of it too, no matter what happened in the process of you coming here, we all help eachother, Gary, no matter how little or how big."

She felt like the bigger person for a moment, and factually, she was, her being born in march and him in november, but it always felt the other way, she was way more broken about thing that were significantly less worse than what he went through at the same age, but that was just her mind, doing it's daily throw ups of senseless words, maybe she was belittleing herself too much but thats what she always did when she was around anybody, her mom, him, Rachel...that's what made people leave her, if you don't love yourself nobody is going to do it either, a cycle that never ends.

Gary's tongue clicked inside his mouth before throwing words formed of venom, not caring of who sucked it in. "I help because of a truce, i have no intentions of being all best friends with you and the other two morons you have on your side."

Chloe wanted to cry, this wasn't the boy she once knew, the one who she shared memories with, whom she had helped with his illness(mental illness) and viceversa, the dumb bowlcutted scrawny unintentionally funny boy she once knew wasn't there anymore, after that one manic episode he had just three years ago, he just stopped trusting her, and it hurt her, it hurt her because she didn't know why, maybe she did something wrong that she didn't adknowlege in time? Or maybe they weren't ever meant to be in the same place from the very beginning, if thats the reason, why is he here now?

[cherrydipp]

HI guys i’m here to yap about the symbolism of paul singing solo in justice for tulsa. adjusts my tie okay here i go.

Paul singing in Justice for Tulsa is SO important. Him being the only soc (besides Cherry) to sing/speak is basically showing how he is leading the group. He is taking on the role of “pack leader” literally immediately after Bob’s death. When you dive deeper into this fact, or honestly from first glance, it’s SYMBOLIC and crucial to the storytelling. Paul is (was) is Bob’s right-hand man — his best friend out of all the boys.

However, stay with me here, he is also the eldest member of their little group. He is the adult, hence why the cops go to and interrogate him first. He is the adult, so all of the socs are looking at him for what to do next, waiting to see what’s the next move. Bob had always been the one organizing everything, so now the responsibility as well as all eyes fall on Paul. He is practically the gang’s big brother when you think about it.

None of the socs weren’t going to accuse Cherry or even bother her in the beginning. The girls understood she was grieving (for goodness sake she just like her boyfriend), and the guys well. They’re the guys. This all changed during Justice for Tulsa when Cherry goes “You were only having fun?” accusing the boys of starting it. The music changes and so does Paul’s voice — he goes from sorrow to angry. His reply is him initiating the revolt (don’t think that’s the right word but we ball) against Cherry.

The socs are drawn to side with him. Beverly suddenly removes her comforting hands away from Cherry and instead goes to join her boyfriend beside Paul. Even Marcia is contemplating what to do. His rage is transferred onto the others as his tone of voice/singing becomes more directed and bitter. They are so quick to believe him when he says Cherry held Ponyboy’s hand (even though we as the audience know he is gaslighting her), and quickly turn against the girl as well.

Paul CONTINUES to get louder as the song goes on, the entire verse after “Bob didn't need to die!” (which is his snapping point, where the line of not targetting her has officially been crossed. Marcia joined the others and Cherry left the scene) is him practically SCREAMING. His mic is turned up and the others become an ensemble with him as the lead, chanting the same phrases as him. This further proves how he became their new leader.

ALSO not to mention when he was being interrogated by the cops, he was NOT afraid to give up Ponyboy and Johnny. He actually says their names as soon as he asked. With that, he also tries to get Cherry to back him up and tell the police it was them two, despite her not even being there when he was murdered. He nudges her and eggs her on because he KNOWS she is not going to crack. She is going to resist releasing any information because she knows the type of person Bob was (hence why she dumped him). Although, if anyone can break her, it’s going to be Paul. He’s going to intimidate her and get the others to as well, which they don’t even need to be told, they just DO it.

As he gets closer while singing “You should be as mad as me, at the senseless tragedy,” she backs away MUCH like she did when Bob was yelling at her after the Drive-In. When the ensemble joins in, Brill gets real close to her and tries to take Bob’s jacket from her grasp, which she retaliates and immediately pulls back.

Basically, what I’m trying to get at is that Paul became the king of the socs after Bob died. They looked to him for guidance, whether it be because they were scared, see him as an older brother, or even were just completely lost. He was the most responsible.

okay baiii

[inkdemonapologist]

What are your thoughts on joeys character in batdr and his redemption? If you ask me I like what they did with him. They gave him redemption without excusing some of the bad stuff he did. And I think memory joey could grow to be somewhat of his own character. But the redemption isn’t perfect though. Even though I said the it didn’t excuse some of the stuff he did it felt like they swept the bad stuff under the rug. But who knows. Maybe they’ll fix this in future.

But enough about what I think, what don you think?

I’ve talked about this before – the TL;DR of that post is that I think this is, conceptually, a promising way to portray Joey moving forward to be better for someone new, but in actual execution it fails to do that.

TBH I’d love to stop categorising this as “redemption”… I've grown to dislike this framing, debating whether it’s a Good Redemption or a Bad Redemption or whether Joey is Really Redeemed or Not, because it assumes that Redemption™ is even what’s happening in this story. BatDR is a story where we’re given reason to believe that Joey may have had a change of heart. That’s it! We can question and analyse his supposed change of heart, but it doesn’t have to REDEEM HIM to be real, and I think measuring things on the scale of REDEEMED VS NOT REDEEMED is not only gliding over some pretty complex ideas of What Does Redeemed Mean In The Context Of Fiction (it is the sort of concept that it is so, so easy for people to have vastly different unspoken definitions for, making discussions of “he was redeemed” “no he wasn’t” especially futile), but also not really useful here.

For one thing, this isn’t a story about Joey's change of heart. Tbh, he barely features – Memory Joey can have a change of heart and work to be better if you believe/headcanon that he has OG Joey’s attitude, worldview, and personality flaws (which I do), but he has no crimes to acknowledge or repent for other than MAYBE reluctance to get involved. You might as well ask a person to repent for the crimes of their kins!! We hear about the choices original Joey made, and we can judge those choices postmortem, but he’s not here to redeem himself through this story; he’s dead.

As to the actual spirit of your question: The big thing. The really really big thing. Is that the CYCLE IS STILL GOING. It’s still going and it’s still bad and everyone in it is still miserable!! He didn’t fix that!!! The only evidence we have of ANY attempt to make it nicer in there is that he added Allison Angel, which like, “i’ve created a new life to keep you company in the torture dimension, so it’s less bad” is NOT ACTUALLY BETTER.

It’s important because it’s the only thing Joey could still try to do. He clearly doesn’t have any money to give restitution to his victims or their families, and I’m not gonna be a cop about demanding that he return the ink machine to the corporation that’s even more evil than he was. There’s not a lot of tangible steps he could take to perform penance for what he’s done, beyond fessing up publicly to his crimes and turning himself in and definitely going to jail, and like, maybe that would be a good thing for him to do, but if we’re going to hold Joey to that standard we really should be making the same demands of, say, Thomas Connor, or Sammy Lawrence in every Escape AU.

He can’t go back and un-ruin the lives he ruined years ago. But he didn’t do anything about the cycle, and that’s something that’s still happening NOW.

That was his responsibility, sapient life that he created to suffer and should have felt a huge obligation to – yet, we have no evidence that Joey was like, trying to fix it (in fact, he seemed PRETTY FOCUSED on spending his limited time creating and then raising Audrey), so every assertion that he was a changed man falls a bit flat, because being a sweet, loving person to your family and friends while running an endlessly looping torture dimension in your basement is actually quite sinister! Even Memory Joey asserts that the only reason he can’t fix the cycle now is because he’s not really the OG Joey who made it – does that mean the OG Joey could? Audrey says she wants to make the cycle kinder; could Joey have done that? Why didn’t he? We know from Allison's appearance in the original BatIM that the hellish experience of the first game IS the version that came from Joey’s change of heart, and it’s not great for literally anyone!!

Joey was a better person to Audrey, his daughter, and I do believe he genuinely loved her. If it were just that, it would be pretty good – Joey disappears from public life and stops obsessing over Bendy and instead of barging into his past victims’ lives to demand forgiveness, he just wants to be a better man and a good father to this daughter he created. That’s a compelling story, and I think it’s probably the best direction that “Joey wants to be better” could go. But once we realise he was actively ignoring suffering that he both caused and was responsible for fixing, it’s hard to take that love in good faith anymore. Joey being good exclusively to people that he likes who are doing what he wants isn’t anything new; Joey’s delight in The One Who Came Out Right feels less like a change of heart when we see Memory Joey echo his complete lack of sympathy for The One Who Came Out Wrong.

The reason it feels like Joey’s wrongdoing was glossed over isn’t because Joey needed to record an audiolog saying “I acknowledge that my actions were without excuse, and I’m deeply sorry for the harm I’ve caused” or whatever… it’s because there was something he could’ve changed, or could’ve at least TRIED to change, and he didn’t do it -- and it feels like we, the audience, were not supposed to notice that, because the story didn’t notice, either. It'd be possible to address it; like, what if Joey's change of heart instead involved him trying to fix things for the people in the cycle, and Audrey was created accidentally in that process -- then his love for Audrey would also be a picture of how far he'd come, taking responsibility for this person he'd brought into being and seeing her as a beloved daughter instead of a mistake. Or even just an audiolog where Joey says some kind of “oh god I can’t end it, it’s just going to repeat forever, what have i done, what can i do,” and it might actually feel possible to believe in his change of heart, to believe that he really tried as hard as he could and just never succeeded. But this huge thing is barely acknowledged. It's fine. He put Allison in there, so now it's fine! Don't dwell on the past!!

Anyway, like I said in my first post, if all this were intentional, I would LOVE it, conceptually. The idea of Joey Drew being a good father to Audrey who really genuinely loved her, but also was not actually a better person in a lot of ways, was still the same guy who was uncomfortable with guilt and glossed over his wrongdoing in order to prematurely Move On from the things that made him feel like a failure and focus on the relationship with his daughter that made him feel like a success, is a compelling, difficult character! The way so many people fell in love with Memory Joey just seems like, how everyone in original Joey’s life must’ve felt about him, the way they all kept believing in him despite everything, the way they wanted so badly to believe him. Impose this lens upon the whole game, and it all fits in. But since there’s no sign it’s intentional – and, with the archive, actually some signs that it wasn’t – it sort of sits weirdly. Memory Joey isn’t framed as an unreliable narrator. The tone of his final scene clearly isn’t MEANT to be dissonant.

---

So, uh, that’s what I think. I think the concept of Joey having a genuine change of heart and being better for his daughter could be good; I think the concept of Joey presenting himself as a changed man when really he is Just The Same, He Just Likes You This Time, could also be good. But he was handled clumsily enough that I think we didn’t quite get either thing, and, as usual, you have to fill in the blanks with headcanons and inferences to get one of these stories -- so which story you get kinda depends on which way you decide to interpret everything. Nothing tells us for sure that Joey didn't try his hardest to fix everything, so if you want that story, you can simply headcanon that he tried his hardest. But my personal preference is definitely for the reading where Joey believes himself a changed man because he really does love his daughter, and that's genuinely sweet!! but he remained the same man he always was, dodging guilt and responsibility in favour of a narrative that made him feel good about himself. I'm still quite proud of the frustrated little indictment Memory Joey gives him in that one creationship comic I made:

[jamneuromain]

Highway to Hell - Shared

Series Masterlist

Series summary: A failed mission brought you once again back on earth, a punishment that’s more pleasurable than you'd normally expect punishments to be. Your punishment? Corrupting people’s thoughts. It’s easy, in a very simple way: sexual pleasure. Turns out no man can resist such a beauty like you.

And who were you? Oh, just the devil's child.

A/N: This is a drabble of what would the four men do when they find out you have been dancing among them. Spoiler alert: they decide to share. Applause to the amazing @rogerswifesblog / @rogerswifesblog-updates who help me write this series and provide many excellent ideas to put in the fic <333

Pairings: Cop Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Priest Steve Rogers x Reader, Bartender Ari Levinson x Reader, Uncle Curtis Everett x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Gangbang, Dub con, Double Penetration, P in V, Anal, Oral (Male Receiving), Handjob, Unprotected Sex, Age Gap (implied), Power Imbalance, Spanking, Threesome (implied), Overstimulation, Creampie (implied), Cum Play, Dummification (just a little), slightly dark(?

On second thought, you shouldn’t have trusted Steve, who told you he needed to speak to you in somewhere private.

And you trusted him. Following him to where he said it would be “peace and quiet”.

Or else, you wouldn’t be cornered by four fuming men in a hotel room, all knowing that you have slept with them separately, while thinking they must have been your only one.

Who would doubt an innocent girl that did nothing than to accept their “generous” offer?

Lloyd, obviously.

“Smart move, sunshine.” The man with a moustache twitches his lips, far from amused, “Telling us that you are shy and rather we won’t tell anybody? Intimate moves forbidden in public? Too bad your little plan didn’t work out.”

“I didn’t plan anything.” You lie to their faces. While in fact you did, carefully choosing your “target”. Lloyd was the unexpected one of them though, since he asked you to pull over as you should have gotten a speed ticket.

“Public?” Steve grinds his teeth before growling, his temper on the thin line of exploding, “I fucked her right in the church. There were only two of us. But still…” Drawing a cross in front of his chest, Steve murmurs a few prayers silently, regardless of the other three men watching him in curiosity.

Lloyd snaps his head back to you, flashing a wolfish glint in his eyes, “The point is, you made us feel very bad about ourselves, sunshine.”

“Yeah, well, you should be proud of yourselves. I wasn’t planning on expanding the list of the men I’ve slept with.” You snap back.

“And we’re supposed to … what? Gloat?” Curtis casually says, taking off his coat, blocking the window, and probably your only hope of escaping, as Lloyd leans on the door.

“If you don’t like it. Feel free to cancel my monthly subscription.” You retort his sarcasm, crossing your arm in front of your chest.

“Gentlemen,” Ari hums in a low voice so that everyone could pay him some attention. He’s been silent ever since Steve led you into this room, “obviously we need more than a ‘monthly’ drop-by.”

The men nod in unison.

“Although we haven’t clarified the specific terms, I believe we should use her whenever we please. And, of course, as we all agree to, share.” Ari smiles at you, but says the darkest thing you could ever imagine.

This was definitely not part of your plan.

“I’ll ask Jake whether he wants to be part of this.” Curtis throws an icy glare at you, “I doubt he would be a problem though. He has shared with me before.”

Lloyd mutters a “fuck”. While Steve is still mulling over his sin-clarification.

“Shall we start?” Ari is shrugging off his leather jacket as he speaks, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt.

“You can’t-” You cry in panic as the four men close in, surrounding you in the middle, “this is against the law … or something at least.”

“Oh sunshine, I am the law in this town.” Lloyd grabs your chin, his psychopathic grin gives you shivers down to your spine, “and you should be glad we decide to forgive you and share you. Or I could tie you up in my basement and invite my new friends over, occasionally.”

You draw a deep breath.

Tears burning. Your jaw hurting. Your dripping holes spreading wide open for two cocks.

“You like that, don’t you?” Lloyd groans as he squeezes your hand tighter, guiding you to stroke his hard cock.

“Yeah she does.” Steve agrees quietly before you could answer. He knees on the couch to push his cock further in your swollen pussy, “Christ. She’s so tight.”

“Wait till you’ve tried her ass, Priest.” Ari brings his hand firmly down your ass cheek, painting it red – as if it weren’t pink and hand-printed already, “that ass is fucking heaven.” He chuckles darkly, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear, gripping your waist, making sure you are fully seated on his thick member, “or should I say hell?”

Stuffed to the fullest with two cocks in both of your holes, you couldn’t do more than let out a mere whimper.

“Can’t believe I’ve bought her stupid acts.” Curtis spits out through gritted teeth as he feels your throat takes his cock again as far as it could, your whimper vibrates his cock. In return, he tugs your hair without mercy, “all those innocent girly acts. Fuck.”

“We all bought it.” Lloyd eyes Curtis, raising his eyebrows, mocking Curtis, “and speaking from a man that has shared her with his son before, seriously? Innocent?”

Curtis huffs but does not bother to answer.

“My turn.” As Lloyd pulls your hair, and choke you on his cock, leaving Curtis slightly irritated.

You were used by these four men for hours. Each has painted your body, both inside and outside in milky-white substance, bringing you orgasms after orgasms. Your holes red, leaking, and abused.

“No more.” You grip Lloyd’s thigh to keep balance, sniffling when he lets your head go and breathe, battling your eyelashes, but they are heavy with tears that you can’t see his expression, “hurt too much.”

“Heard that?” Lloyd barks out laughter, wiping his cock on your face, leaving traces of your saliva and cum on your rosy cheek, “she said she can’t take it, boys.”

Ari grunts out of disagreement, his fingers dancing around your rim, attempting to squeeze one in alongside his cock, “she was screaming and moaning just fine for hours. Lies.”

“Ari, please,” The helplessness inside you bubbles and fuels to your tears, “I just can’t.”

Steve peppers a trail of kisses down your throat, nibbing your shoulder, while toying with your sensitive clit, “I guess you have to be a strong girl for us then. Don’t you want to be good for all of us, hmm? We’re prepping you. More might join, you know.” He speaks softly, comforting you as always. The panting on the joint between your neck and shoulder increases when your pussy grips him. Still, he mouths your breasts, sucking little red marks on them.

“Steve-” You feel torn apart. The four men bringing you pleasure, but in their own way. As if your body belongs to them separately. And the coil in your stomach threatens to snap with greater pain and pleasure than you could withstand.

A rough hand grips your chin, forcing you to turn the other way.

The hand that has hold you for countless times, on your back with a friendly pat.

Curtis.

“She’s not dumb yet. She can still talk.” Curtis talks about you as if you are an object in front of him, having you clench down your thigh involuntarily. It’s degrading, but it arouses you so much than you should admit. “I’d say she could take more.” The dark brooding man inspects your teary eyes and your cum-stained face, “yeah she’s alright.”

“Heard that, sunshine?” Lloyd taps your forehead with his knuckles, “not brain-dead yet.” He grins, “but it does sound empty, folks.”

Steve wipes the cum from your pussy lips, a mixture of the previous men who has thoroughly used it before he did, onto your soft stomach, which compliments your pretty skin and your cute bellybutton. He smiles warmly, though you are not even certain at this point, “she’s always the smartest. I’d say we work harder to satisfy this little devil, hmm?”

With the element of surprise, Ari starts bouncing you on his dick, shamelessly putting his flexing biceps to use, which earns him a few strangled sounds between cries and moans from you.

He simply shrugs, on receiving three other men’s looks, “I am working.”

And you gulp in fright. When Lloyd, with his sadist grin, taps your lips to open for his heavy cock as you still struggle for air.

This would be the start of some many long nights with men more than you could handle.

Taglist: @rosedpetal @dankoiseori @katcutie @peachlle @mrs-marc-spector

[variousqueerthings]

@gj spoilers for s2ep6 so don't loook

some quick thoughts on due south episode six "Masks"

I feel like there was a tension from the very beginning in terms of fraser's code of honour as something trained into him by the fact that his father was a mountie and his earliest sense of Justice and Right and Wrong and Duty and all of that came from that sphere...

and the fact that Law (very much also Canadian, both irl ofc, but also on the show) is often incredibly unjust, especially against people who don't have much recourse

the fact that this involved corruption by people with a lot of power in canadian government and business, both in the Pilot and in Masks, specifically against native people, and that Fraser's involvement in both of these meant him siding against people who you'd call his superiors in some form (and in the Pilot being punished for it, even though he did very much obey the letter of the law and Gerrard and Co did not), and in Masks specifically that he broke the law by not revealing that the recovered masks were forgeries-

speaks to that tension, and heightens it. Namely, that what Fraser believes the Law should be, and what it is, are often diametrically opposed and that there is no such as rigid adherence, because one man's/community's law is very different to another's

those masks were basically originally stolen (they hint at it strongly with the whole "oh they were legally sold/there's a lot of dispute about that, tellingly from the Tsimshian people themselves"), which means that Fraser is obeying a much higher law than the officials he's actually serving under

and I wonder if this will continue to expand for this character, because Fraser has really struggled to go around literal law in order to help people (although he has so far always found some way of helping through sheer perseverance, which doesn't mean the law works, just that he's both an embodiment of what it should be and bent on punishing his own body for the sake of others, which is... also not good), and especially himself. The Wild Bunch is haunting me!

(and hc that some part of it haunts Fraser as well)

anyway, a long ramble to say that Fraser knows that the laws he's driven to follow and the idealism he has for the RCMP are full of cracks, and I feel like it's a post-Pilot ongoing exploration of his own understanding of what it means to serve the people, who has rights and who doesn't, what Laws he actually follows and whether it's possible to be Good and Law-Abiding

I mean, the show could decide to do the tried and true "it's just bad apples" type thing, which I wouldn't hold against it as such -- it's the 90s, it's a cop show in the end, I don't know (yet) what its ultimate journey is, but... it would be cool if we continue to see those cracks, even if Fraser does remain with the RCMP by the end (which wouldn't be unrealistic either, this is the life he Knows how to operate in, he's not technically a revolutionary... technically)

long post to say: Daaaamn Fraser Broke The Law For A Higher Purpose, and it was only a few episodes after he almost had a panic attack "fake" stealing Milk Duds

also the Magical Realism was Through The Fucking Roof in this one 👀

ALSO I will buy the retcon that "Eric" knew Fraser when he was a kid and that he was the guy from the Pilot. I need to merge them somehow into one guy, because Eric Schweig was much younger than the new Eric-Actor, but we can make it work

[yuseirra]

**onk 155 spoilers**

I think I'm TERRIBLE with murder mysteries because well.. I guess I don't understand the psychology of murderers...

But I believe I do a pretty good job regarding people who aren't so here goes:

I could infer that kamiki would not have had any will to live after Ai's death. He was the guy who broke down when his abuser died (he was holding up pretty fine till someone else urged him to carry their deaths but yeah) and we see him describing himself as someone who's killed Ai to his own son while describing he really did love her from the bottom of his heart. After some prying, he later says he didn't intend for it to happen (but it doesn't really make sense from how he's described it because how could he have not predicted it in the slightest if what he's described is really true??? that's why I'm still not believing what he's said entirely!! it's so weird)

Whether he's taken a major part in it or not, we can infer that he feels he's entirely responsible for what happened to Ai. Considering his psychology up till that point, Ai was his lifeline at one point, and for him to have believed he killed it himself would have really taken a toll on him. I think his mental state at that point would've compared to that of Aqua's who's lost any will to continue living, as seen from Ai's funeral.

But Aqua chose to live because he couldn't die just yet. He chose to avenge Ai's death and he'd live for that cause.

What'd have brought Kamiki to decide he can't die yet on his side, then? The only strong reason I could come up with for this guy would be that he wants to bring Ai back and make everything better. I say he'd even go as far as wishing to die in her place. That logic aligns so well with Mephisto and Fatal. I bet he regrets what's happened and when there's regret, you'd want to fix things. If he didn't have that sort of hope, I doubt he'd have wanted to live in the first place. The way he's been acting, it seems as if he's devoted his entire life to a cause, he's really depressed. He doesn't mind being avenged. He actually wants it to happen if that's what Ai wants. He doesn't mind rotting away. But there's something that he has to do before he has to, he says.

If this guy's been up to something, I feel it'd be about Ai. and it'd be for her sake in his perspective(although it may not be so much in reality, it'd be what he believes to be is)

Aqua just. let this guy go in 155 but he shouldn't do that if he's aware he's someone capable of murder.. he should call the cops on him or something even if revenge is that important, who knows what a murderer's up to... but he just. let him go... which means it'd be really irresponsible of him if Kamiki really WAS a serial killer who could be looking for another victim. That's DANGEROUS and he even left on a note that he's "going to do something for Ai". Aqua seems to know a lot about what'd been taking place (he knows about how three people died at least) so if he's let him go, it means that what Aqua thinks kamiki would do for Ai's sake's not something like that.

I wouldn't be surprised if the guy winds up dead in the next chapter but I hope not?? There must be a reason why the idea of him being helped by Ai and her kids was introduced in 154, there's no reason to bring an idea like that, it didn't have to be phrased that way. But Ai left a message to aqua saying "if he's still lost, I want you to help him". This should come true although I can't predict just how it'd come through. He's definitely REALLY LOST, and Ai was concerned about him. I bet she is still now, I don't even know what he's really done at this point, everything's very vague and I need more information to determine how things really were

so yeah, he's off to do something for Ai now (I'm not surprised about that in the slightest) what surprised me is that he was able to accept Ai's message in one go. He doesn't deny it or refuse to believe what she's said about him, he just lets that sink in and he wants to do something for her now after it does. That's actually stronger than what I've first pictured in a way! Although we don't get to see his face or a lot of his reactions, this leads me to think he does care about Ai. He got the message. I'm just not sure what he's going to do.. Aqua you should've chased him; but okay. I guess other things are more important right.

I won't talk much about the other important twist(?) reveal(?) in this new chapter, but I felt really sorry for Ai though. She's surrounded by people who are obsessed with her.. why can't she have someone normal.. she was secretive but I get why she had to be that way o<-< a celebrity's life must be harsh, people just won't let you go.

Oh and I was really curious how Gorou died, it seems like an accident but it's still something that has to be cleared up. The events leading up to that.. it deserves to be explained. He's someone who's worked for Ai's sake in a really genuine way..I'm still sorry about what happened to him even if Aqua's decided to move on from him

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

hi. alot is happening. bumming off wifi rn. i'm copy/pasting someone from a doc i started in libra office with no internet.

A LOT IS HAPPENING BEHIND THE SCENES AND I’M KEEPING TRACK.

The landlady has made excuses to not give us back the security deposit. She keeps having Dave’s boss call him in a foul mood will all kind of threats and accusations of things we supposedly broke/ruined.

1.) On our first night out of there she has already threatened to call the cops on us by claiming that we filled the house with perfume before we left so it’ll hurt her. What happened was we cleaned it because she demanded that it was clean like it supposedly was when we moved in(it wasn’t clean when we moved in). We used that Meyers shit, which has a pretty muted scent and is supposed to be safe for the environment. And it was just basic sweeping, dusting, and then doing up the ktichen and bathroom just to be safe.

2.) Today she has claimed that we filled the washing machine with motor oil to ruin it as punishment before we left. She swears the whole house smells of oil, after screaming about it smelling like too much perfume that was supposedly used to hurt her breathing. Mind you, mom is an asthmatic so we can’t use things with strong scents because it will fuck her up. If we bought oil, it would be for the van cuz that shit is expensive and we wouldn’t be wasting it on HER of all people.

By now, Dave’s boss is aware that she cannot legally withold the deposit and that she’s trying to use the fact that Dave is a dumbass, against him. Mom however, knows the laws, and the lease said nothing about not using scented cleaners OR perfumes, and she does not have a legit reason to not give us the $1600 back. If she took it to court it would not hold. She has to make an itemized list of her claims, Dave has to acknowledge whether or not they are true, and then it goes to court.

fyi I took videos of everything in the house. Bethy’s Room, Mom’s Room, Bathroom, Living Room, Dining Room, Kitchen. All items that were hers, such as the Oven, Fridge, Washer, Dryer, Toilet, Sinks,Tub/Shower, random Recycle Bin, and Wall Hangings. Inside and Out. All details were recorded before we left. I even recorded us leaving at exactly 11:23 PM Feb 15th 2024, and recorded turning the light off.

Let’s see if she comes up with something else tomorrow. ~5:22 PM Feb, 17th 2024

3.)

Feb, 21st 2024:

I’ve just been informed by Bethy that Dave has gone on to further embarrass us. He insists that he’s got all these racing friends(and tbf they promised to help fund a big event to raise money for us 2 years ago, and then ghosted him AND Bethy when they asked what they had to do to help) who will help and has been harassing them for money.

One of them, an active dirt racer, posted a screenshot with Dave’s full name in a text convo begging for cash. And then half a dozen other dirt racers, active and retired, shared that he’s been hitting them up for money too. How he was in people’s posts about random shit beggn for money and then how he got swindled under his own comment by someone mocking him and posting the same thing he did with a small wording change about leaving an abusive house and Dave not only fell for it but then said he’d try to help them.

And now the greater dirt racing community is aware of this and are mocking him and us and some are making inquiries about Bethy’s well-being in connection to Dave. And their wives are having things to say about how he’s a bad parent and she should be taken away from him.

And I need to remind everyone that this is to pay off a blackmailer who is demanding $300 a week now. Bethy got a bit more info out of him on that and it apparently involves a photo. And there are only 2 types of photos that can get him in legal trouble(since he believes he CAN go to jail over this). So either he sent an unsolicited dick pic, which won’t receive much punishment cuz he’s a man who LOOKS white enough. OR it’s child p0rn, and he’s never given that vibe out of everything fucked up with him so I’m not exactly sure.

But he walks around demanding to know ‘did anyone give us money yet’ and people have donated to the GFM and Mealtrain, and I’ve earned about $100 on Ko-Fi recently, and we haven’t told him cuz he won’t use it for anything good.

He’s been bumming extra money off his boss despite knowing that the van need fixing, we need hot water and heat, and several other problems that need fixing ASAP. And his boss is asking questions and is getting nastier and nastier cuz he doesn’t trust Dave’s intentions and shitty lying.

There is no lease. The owner of this house knows Dave's boss and they supposedly came to an agreement that so long as Dave fixes up this house, we can stay here in the mean time for free. They supposedly made an agreement that Dave's boss will buy everything we need to fix the house up and then send all the receipts to the friend who will then pay him back.

And now Dave's boss is getting so fed up with Dave and his wishy-washy behavior and begging for all this money all the time that he does not earn, that he is now saying he never made any such promises. And he refuses to contact the owner of this house at all. There is no recording. No contract. No signatures. No proof that such a discussion went down at all. It is Dave’s word(unreliable) against the boss’(the one with money and power here) word.

Dave has no way to contact the owner either. Cuz he didn’t think that was necessary apparently. He was perfectly fine making his boss the go-between until his boss got angry.

So our ability to even stay here is hanging in the balance.

Can’t wait to see what other bad news I’m gonna find out.