#Erica Sinclair does not get mind-flayed

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

Chapter Six: E Pluribus Unum. I’m gonna vomit on the Duffer Brothers, I swear to God.

1.) I forgot that Russian recovered from a head wound that knocked him out super fast.

2.) I also forgot how close they got to the gate during their escape.

3.) Robin and Steve hold the doors so Dustin and Erica can escape. Also there’s no conversation before it happens, Steve just kind of does it and Dustin is like ‘I won’t forget you’ and leaves.

4.) This chase would be more impressive if it wasn’t relying on gross CGI. Like, the demogorgon is objectively a less scary design but because there was a dude in a suit for a lot of it, it’s still more impressive than the mind flayer at the end of the day.

5.) The mind flayer is connecting all of the victims, right? So could Heather see what her father was doing? Could she see his last moments before he was killed? Could she feel it?

7.) Mayor Kline presents Fun Fair.

8.) The carnival ride that the Russian holds the mayor in goes wicked fast. Does that ride normally go that fast or is this like the elevator?

9.) Strawberry and cherry slurpees taste different, Hopper. You absolute animal.

10.) I’m glad he likes strawberry too. And glad Hopper finally wasn’t stupid.

11.) Lucas Charles Sinclair.

12.) Erica is such a little sister to be like “Everything else tracks, but my brother is a little bitch so that part doesn’t.”

13.) Dustin knowing that much about My Little Pony is actually a little weird from what I know of the franchise. Bronies are more modern.

14.) My poor boy Steve. This part I remember a lot because it’s put in so many fucking Steddie fics. Steve is actually a very good liar. I forgot he offers them ice cream though.

15.) The Russians illicit the most terrified laughter out of Steve by laughing.

16.) Robin is so worried about Steveeeee.

17.) Robin spits in his face. I forgot she did that. My queen.

18.) Mike is being a ridiculous white knight.

19.) Hopper is having an absolute panic attack after learning about the upside down.

20.) “Breaking in is impossible.” Cuts to the literal children who managed it.

21.) lmaooooo Erica casually saying, “Deadly weapon, could be useful” is one of the best lines of this season.

22.) Steve was unconscious for IDK how long. Also I think he’s got a broken rib.

23.) I love Robin and Steve so much.

24.) I just realized I don’t know why Steve and Robin were in the same sophomore English class if they’re not in the same grade. Did Steve have to repeat sophomore English or did the Duffers not realize they were in different graduating classes yet?

25.) Could the props department not make that needle retract? It’s like barely against his skin.

26.) I forgot the kids don’t check on Steve or Dustin like at all.

27.) We got a flashback to El’s bio mom.

28.) I believe this episode takes place July 4th, 1985, which makes it exactly 4 years before I was born. That’s not relevant to anything, it’s just interesting.

29.) I feel bad for baby Billy, but not adult Billy. Adult Billy still wanted to kill Lucas and did nearly kill Steve. And neither of those things happened because of the Mindflayer. And his dad being shit isn’t an excuse either. I was abused all throughout my childhood and I never beat someone into a concussion.

30.) “Thank you, and good day!” Joyce screams into a phone.

31.) i forgot how funny Robin and Steve are when they’re high.

32.) Oh I forgot a fingernail almost gets ripped out before Robin announces they cracked it in a day.

33.) I forgot that somehow Dustin ended up with the deadly weapon and probably killed the torturer.

34.) Okay so Billy’s speech makes more sense now in hindsight considering what I know about season 4 (although I did not watch season 4 yet like at all).

35.) I forgot Billy’s the only Flayed person that doesn’t turn into bad CGI goo. RIP disposable people.

[platypanthewriter]

Rollerskates

For the Harringrove April prompt month!  What if someone else encountered the mindflayer...I don’t know what this is, have some silly horror I guess

Hawkins was the worst.  Billy knew this--he’d known from the time they drove through the two-street town, he’d guessed when his dad praised the damn place and its down home American values--but he’d never guessed some sludgemonster would try to drag him into the ironworks, and he’d definitely never guessed whatever the fuck it was, it would send spies.

He glowered over from his lifeguard station at the row of rats outside the chainlink fence of the pool.  They were brave, knowing, somehow, that he couldn’t take his eyes off the pool for more than a few seconds to hose them down.  Billy glared back at them every few seconds--these huge rats, lined up like bowling pins, staring.  He’d started carrying a notebook to jot things down, not because he thought a goddamned soul would believe him, but to check that at least if he was hallucinating, it was consistent.

A kid hollered, splashing, and he yanked his gaze back to the pool.  

Sometimes they switched, he was fairly sure, watching them with binoculars.  There was a light grey one that hadn’t been there before, and a really fat one he was sure he’d have remembered.  He counted them, and made a note.  They were spying on him in shifts, because it was goddamn Hawkins, and the rats--and the steelworks, apparently--were possessed.

He was vaguely tempted to go back, or ask around town if the old factory was haunted, but every time he thought about it, he broke out in a cold sweat.

Every time he left the pool--every time he went anywhere--he could hear the soft squeaks of the mice, and the dragging sound of their piper.  She looked younger than Max, with overalls and rattling dark braids, but she swooped around on her rollerskates, playing her recorder, and the rats obeyed her.

Billy’d tried chasing her, once, but he could hardly catch up to rollerskates, and she skated backwards away, staring him in the eye.  He chased her two blocks, then rolled after her in his car, as she looped through driveways and through garages, an endless maze of shortcuts where he couldn’t follow, and he finally realized she was leading him back to the Steelworks.  He spun the wheel, leaving skid marks on the road as he sped back home, and laid awake, with his pillow over his head, listening to the rats in the walls.

After a week of the dragging sound of rollerskates in the street outside at night, the sounds of the off-key recorder warbling over the fence at the pool, and the gnawing rats in the walls, he tried cornering Max.  She just squinted at him, blinking slowly with huge dark circles under her eyes, and suggested blearily that he stop leaving food in his room.

“They’re not normal rats,” he hissed at her, and she stopped, glared at him, and then shook her head and walked off.  

 It wasn’t just Billy, either.  The front page of the Sunday paper--read in Neil Hargrove’s voice, because he wasn’t letting anybody else read it, even though he was taking forever settling himself--was about a guy running around Main Street with a shotgun, screaming about rats and rollerskates.  He’d finally tried to shoot the cops trying to get him to drop the gun, and been hit by a car, and when it revealed he was already under investigation for burning crosses in a local family’s yard, even Neil hissed.  His autopsy revealed his toes and fingers had been gnawed on by rats.

“What a nice town,” Max said dryly.  

There was an interview on TV with a guy’s wife--she’d called the police because her husband had stormed out in the middle of the night, screaming about rats.  She had bruises all up the left side of her face, and something deep in Billy shivered as he wondered about the darkness around her wrists, whether her husband had left bruises there too.  She flinched away from the reporter every time he moved, and he lowered his voice, grimacing.  

“We’d been fighting,” she whispered, and Susan put her hands over her mouth, glancing at Billy.  “We kept hearing rollerskates,” said the woman on he news, crying.  “I-I hope he didn’t hurt that little girl.”

Neil Hargrove stared out the window for hours that night, between glaring at Billy, and putting out poison for the rats.  

 Billy went to get in his car that night, and there were rats, rats on his seats and dashboard, and he yelled, slammed the door, and walked out to where there were people, stalking as fast as he could down the street.  He realized he was walking away from home, but he didn’t want to stop, so he just headed wherever he saw a group of people.  He elbowed his way into a crowd of people loitering around the drug store, and came face to face with Steve Harrington and his loud, curly-haired shadow.  

They stared at him, their mouths sucked in on soda straws, but Billy was on his last nerve.  “You fucking grew up here,” he hissed, stepping closer, “--right?  What the fuck, Harrington.  What the shit is with these goddamn rats?!  Why do they want me to go to the Steelworks--who the goddamn is the shitbird on roller skates—”

Harrington just blinked his big stupid cow eyes and frowned, but his sidekick said “Wait, what?  The Steelworks?”

“The fucking Steelworks,” Billy repeated, his eyes flicking between them as they exchanged an obvious glance.  

“That makes sense,” the kid said, digging out a map, and Billy growled.

“What fucking makes sense,” he asked, through his teeth, as Harrington leaned in to see the map, slurping his soda.  

“Lot of sightings around there,” the kid said, glaring up at Billy.  

“Sightings of what,” Billy hissed, and Harrington shot him a glower.

They didn’t really answer, but they let him follow them to a payphone, and Harrington called the sheriff.

“You can’t call the police on rats,” Billy bit out, feeling like a moron, kind of, for not trying it himself.  

“Shut your face,” Harrington told him, and then proceeded to ask for the sheriff himself, and Billy couldn’t help himself, craning over Steve’s shoulder.  

“My car’s full of rats, my walls’re full of rats, I never stop hearing the roller skates—” he yelled at the phone, and Harrington elbowed him off.

“Maybe you shouldn’t’ve been such a shithead to Lucas Sinclair,” the kid said, sounding pleased.

“Fuck you,” Billy spat back, pretending his voice hadn’t cracked.  “Who the fuck even is Lucas Sinclair?!”

“Sir,” Harrington said.  “Uh, Hopper.  Billy Hargrove thinks it’s out at the Steelworks.  Yeah.  Oh, um.”  He turned to frown at Billy.  “Are you sure you don’t need--we can help, we’ve—” he sighed.  “...I guess we can keep an eye on him.”

“I mean, do we need to?” the kid asked.  “The rats can have him, far as I’m—”

“We’ll make sure nothing happens to him,” Harrington gritted out.  “As long as he lets us.”

Billy snarled at him, but he let them bundle him into Harrington’s car, and curled up on Harrington’s couch, while Harrington himself stalked around his house shooting the occasional glare in Billy’s direction.  

“...was Lucas Sinclair the kid...that night,” Billy asked hoarsely.  “Max’s friend.”

“Yeah,” Harrington said, sarcastically.  “Nice how it only goes after the shittiest people, right?”

“Fuck,” Billy whispered, swallowing.  “Fuck.”

 After a while, Harrington sank down on the couch next to him, and Billy flinched, then tried to pretend he hadn’t, growling.  “They’ll take care of it tonight,” Steve told him, sighing.  “With flamethrowers.”

“Holy shit,” Billy said, staring at him.  

 It was true--Billy woke up the next morning on Harrington’s couch, thanked him awkwardly, and went home to find his father had left during the night, chasing a girl on roller skates.  

He didn’t return.

But, as Harrington had said, there were no more rats.  Billy still saw the girl, occasionally, her glare pointed, but she didn’t come near.  He considered trying to apologize to Lucas Sinclair, and finally asked Max, reluctantly, whether she thought the kid would even want to hear it.

“What,” she said, flatly.

“Maybe I should just stay away,” Billy muttered, as they maneuvered around each other, doing the dishes.  Billy couldn’t quite get over the thought that everybody had acted like the three people taken hadn’t deserved to live, and the rats had not been outside Billy’s house for his father.  Neil had deserved better, Billy couldn’t help thinking--he’d been right about Billy, after all--but on the other hand, he’d definitely charged out trying to murder a little girl on roller skates with his bare hands, so Billy felt a little bit vindicated, after all the things he’d muttered about his dad.

When he saw the little girl again, he yelled out, “D’you think your brother would want me to say sorry?!”, and she skated to a stop, turning to glare at him.

“Would you mean it?” she hollered back, her hands cupped, and Billy nodded.

“I’ll tell him,” she shouted back, and skated off.  

Max started bringing Lucas around, after that, and Billy always got them whatever takeout they wanted, and stayed the hell away.  Lucas nodded to him, after a while, and Billy’s spine loosened.

 Billy nodded to Harrington, too, when he saw him, and after a while, Harrington started nodding back, until Billy let the uneasy squirm in his guts every time they met eyes guilt him into saying, “Sorry.”

“What,” said Harrington, looking weirded out.  The mall was barely open, and he glanced around, like he might need backup.

“Sorry for that night,” Billy said.  “And--and for...helping me.  Sorry I ended up your problem.”

Harrington just stared back at him.  He laughed, though, when he found Billy in his driveway, grimly cleaning rat shit out of every surface of his Camaro.  

 The little girl just made him buy her ice cream, which he was fine with--she’d hop in his car, and they’d drive over to buy ice cream from Steve Harrington.

“I wasn’t possessed, god,” she groaned.  “I was doing God’s work.”

“It promised you ice cream, didn’t it,” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows, and she sighed.

“I was possessed by capitalism,” she sighed dramatically.

After Steve got off work, he climbed in Billy’s car, and they’d drive out to the quarry and talk.  Billy watched him the way he had at first--stupid Steve Harrington, with his stupid hair, and his stupid fucking smile--until he’d realize Harrington was talking again, and Billy was missing it, again.

“The hell d’you keep staring at,” Steve asked, laughing, and Billy groaned, rubbing his face, but Harrington didn’t seem pissed, so Billy just kept running up whenever he saw him, and Harrington started putting an arm aorund his shoulders.  The like, sixteenth time Billy almost forgot himself and kissed him, watching Steve’s lips from inches away, Steve smiled, a little crookedly, and pulled him back as he stepped away.  They stared at each other, and then Billy scrambled away, swearing and kicking at rocks.

Billy had his first gay kiss in the ice cream shop, with the scary little rollerskater wolf-whistling, and Harrington’s chocolate-sticky fingers in his hair.  It tasted like waffle cones.

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done