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strangerthings4theories · 3 years

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Mirror Images: Billy And El Are Reflections Of Each Other

As you read this post, hold the following concepts in your mind: yin and yang in Chinese philosophy. The Light Side and Dark Side in Star Wars. The real world and the Upside Down in Stranger Things.

That, my friends, is the level of thematic significance the Duffers are giving Billy and El. And it’s my top reason for believing Billy will come back.

Why?

El is arguably the main character of the show. Any character who’s linked to her so profoundly will be a Big Fuckin’ Deal.

You cannot, CANNOT, create such a consistent dynamic by accident, which tells me that...

...the Duffers have huge intentions for Billy. He will become more significant to the show, not less! If you think he’ll return just for flashbacks or memories, you’re not thinking big enough.

Buuuut I’m getting ahead of myself. First let me show you what I mean when I say Billy and El are mirror images. It’s pretty mind-blowing...

1) The broad strokes of Billy and El’s lives echo each other: their family backgrounds, their traumas, and their journeys in the show.

>>They’ve suffered under abusive fathers. In fact, in S2 they have encounters with their fathers in back-to-back episodes - El with Brenner in episode 7, Billy with Neil in episode 8.

Both fathers are likened to the Mind Flayer in the power they wield over their children. In episode 7, El’s hallucination of Brenner tells her she has a “wound... growing and festering” (my paraphrase), a clear reference to the tunnels of the Upside Down. Kali, as the creator of the hallucination, is trying to tell El that he is the source of the wound, and El won’t heal until she’s confronted him.

In episode 8, the title card “The Mind Flayer” opens on Neil driving back to the Hargrove house, implying he’s the real Mind Flayer in Billy’s life. As I’ve argued elsewhere, Billy won’t heal either until he’s confronted Neil.

>>Billy and El lost their mothers because of their fathers. Brenner fried Terry's brain with electricity for daring to defy him. Billy's mother left for an unknown reason, but we’re led to believe she couldn’t take Neil’s abuse anymore. The way she's presented in Billy's memories leads me to believe she has since passed away.

Billy and El are both devastated by their losses. When El tells Billy at Starcourt, “[Your mother] was pretty,” she’s trying to tell him she understands.

>>Billy and El have “adopted” sisters, Max and Kali. Max represents Billy's better nature; Kali represents El's darker nature. In the same season where Billy constantly insists Max isn't his sister - thereby rejecting her - El finds Kali and embraces her. This symbolizes Billy and El’s complementary journeys: Billy is learning to accept his light while El is learning to accept her darkness.

>>Billy and El are wounded and angry because of what’s happened to them. In S1 El worries she's a monster, and in S2 she nearly kills a man in her anger, only to stop herself at the last second (against the wishes of Kali, her darker nature). Billy lets his rage define him. He's turned into a bully over his teen years, and in S2 he nearly kills Steve. Max (his better nature) stops him.

>>Billy and El are viscerally connected to the Upside Down.

The Upside Down is pursuing El. We’re not sure why yet, but their predator/prey dynamic is the main source of conflict in the show. Brenner says to her in S1, “It [the Upside Down] is reaching out to you ‘cause it wants you. It’s calling you. So don’t turn away from it this time.” His words form the backbone of the narrative:

In S1, El opens the first Gate, introducing the Upside Down to our world and setting the events of the show in motion. At the climax, she defeats the Demogorgon, the Mind Flayer's first servant.

S2 deals with the evolving consequences of El opening the first Gate. At the climax, El closes the Gate (symbolically “turning away" from the Upside Down) and catches the Mind Flayer's attention in the process.

In S3, the Mind Flayer comes after El to kill her. She runs from him, and her friends intervene to save her.

In future seasons, the Mind Flayer will regroup and try again but to corrupt her this time, not kill her. The climax of the entire show will hinge on the resolution of their conflict. El will be forced to stop running and face the Mind Flayer head-on.

In S3, Billy is caught by the Mind Flayer and turned into his instrument to hunt El down. This creates a yin/yang situation where Billy and El are revolving around each other, with the Mind Flayer in the center pulling on them both. At Starcourt, El saves Billy's soul by bypassing the Mind Flayer completely - building “the rainbow bridge.”

If you remember that Brenner and Neil, their abusive fathers, are likened to the Mind Flayer, their interaction becomes the story of Billy re-enacting his trauma, and El helping him heal it.

2) Runaway Max gives us a special case of Billy and El mirroring each other.

In S1, one of El's biggest moments happens in episode 6. Mike and Dustin have been cornered by the bullies Troy and James. Right when all hope is lost, El shows up and breaks Troy’s arm. After that, she confesses tearfully, “The gate. I opened it. I'm the monster.” This brings forward her inner struggle - am I a monster for the things I do? - which she will no doubt revisit in future seasons.

Keep in mind that Troy is around 12 years old, and El breaks his right arm.

Jump forward to S2. At one point, Billy complains, “Yeah, we're stuck here [in Hawkins]. And whose fault is that?” - implying it's somehow Max's. She disagrees. “Yours,” she mutters under her breath.

In the show, we never get an explanation. Runaway Max tells us everything.

Back in California, Billy is spiraling deeper and deeper into a pit of rage. One fateful afternoon, he takes it out on Max and her best friend Nate, a 12-year-old boy. When Max resists him, he seizes Nate's right arm and twists it behind his back. He holds it there, watching Max.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, a crazed look in his eyes.

When she does nothing, he breaks Nate's arm.

The fallout is catastrophic. Within weeks, Neil decides they should all move away from California for the good of the family.

Now think about this. El breaks a 12-year-old boy's right arm to save her friends from bullies. Billy breaks a 12-year-old boy's right arm... because he is the bully.

It’s part of the wider pattern: El is light, Billy is darkness.

3) The Duffers use physical markers to underscore Billy and El’s similarities.

>>When the MF wrecks Billy's car, Billy's forehead smashes into the windshield, leaving a gash. At Starcourt, he slams El into the wall, giving her a wound in the same spot. Thematically, their wounds tell the story of Billy suffering abuse, then turning around and inflicting it on El. He’s perpetuating a cycle, and it’s up to him to stop it.

>>Both Billy and El are limping by the time they reach Starcourt. El's leg is injured from the Mind Flayer, while Billy injures his in the car crash. These wounds tell the story of El, the “innocent,” suffering pain through no fault of her own while Billy, the “guilty” one, is being punished for his crimes. (I put those words in quotes because I believe the show will challenge our assumptions.)

A sad footnote: El has Max and Mike to help her walk. Billy has no one.

>>In S2, Billy gets a nosebleed out of the same nostril as El. This says a LOT, marking him as a future “superhero” and putting him in the same class as El, Kali, and El's mom Terry.

Off the top of my head, only two other characters get nosebleeds, Mayor Kline and Steve. But the blood never comes cleanly out of one nostril the way it does with El. I believe that was a purposeful design choice to avoid muddying the symbolic waters.

...

Y’all, I’ve already hit my picture limit for a single post, and I’m not even done yet :p So I’ll stop there for now. Eventually I’ll show you how El is connected to the Demogorgon in the same strange way as Billy.

You see what I mean though? There is no fuckin’ way Billy is dead for good. Why would the Duffers give him this much resonance with El, then drop him?

It makes no sense.

If you ask me, they’ve got plans for our boy. World-altering plans. He’s not just coming back; by the end of the show, he’s gonna be a Big Goddamn Hero.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Billy Is Alive - A Meta Series

#billy hargrove #el hopper #billy hargrove is alive #stranger things theory #stranger things analysis #neil hargrove #martin brenner #terry ives #billy hargrove's mother #kali prasad #max mayfield #nothin' but parallels all the way down

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bapyess1r · 4 years

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Sunny Daze

WARNINGS: cursing, violence

Pairings: Elena x OC, Rafe x OC

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Chapter 16

Sunny’s POV

I woke up with the sun blinding me as it peeked through the curtains. Wincing and shielding my eyes, I turned over, wanting to cuddle the man who’d done my body right the night before. My heart sank when I saw that no one was there. But next to my head on the pillow was a napkin with two words scribbled on it. “I’m sorry.” I felt my chest begin to heave as a burning sensation boiled in me. ‘No way in hell he didn’t….’ I thought, standing up and bolting out of my room to go to Nathan’s room. I knocked on his door frantically. ‘C’mon, Nate…. tell me you didn’t….’ I thought nervously. I knocked again for a while and when he didn’t answer I lost my cool. “Mother FUCKER!” I snapped, punching the door. I began to kick the door angrily until the door next to his opened. Sully poked his head out, wincing at the bright sun.

“Sunny?! What’s wrong kid? It’s still early…” he grumbled.

“They left without me!” I hissed. “Mother FUCKER!” I exclaimed, kicking the door again.

“Shouldn’t it be plural?” Sully yawned.

“No, I know it was Sam. I know it was! He asked me to go home with Elena last night and I told him no. I promised Elena I’d look out for Nathan and that ASSHOLE-” I said storming off and he followed me with haste.

“Kid, calm down a second!” He called after me as I ran up the stairs. “Just what in the hell do ya think you’re doin’?!”

“I’m goin’ after them, that’s what. And when I get a hold of Sam, I’m gonna wring his skinny little neck!” I growled, hysterically. I was shaking all over.

“Now Sunny, wait a goddamn minute!” He yelled, grabbing hold of my wrist to stop me. I turned to look at him, just seething. “Maybe it’s a good thing they left you behind. Rafe isn’t gonna take too kindly to seeing you work with those two after you blew him off in Italy-”

“Rafe can suck a tit!” I snapped in frustration before clapping my hands in front of me to center myself. “Sully, I love you. You know I do- but I made a promise. And I intend on keeping it…” I said to him before turning to leave off again. He sighed and followed me to my room.

“And just how do you plan on getting to a remote island with no boat or no plane?” He asked me, rubbing the sleep out of his old eyes.

“I’ll figure it out.” I said, stubbornly as I gathered my clothes together and checked my own little collection of guns.

“Uh-huh. And when you get there, what exactly are you gonna do?” He asked, leaning into my doorway with his rather muscular arms folded across his toned chest.

“I will figure it out, Sully.” I sighed, shrugging off my shawl and taking my clothes in the bathroom to change. I could hear Sully enter the room from the other side and close the door.

“You’re goin’ in half cocked! You should at least have some back up, Sunny. Goin’ out there alone would be suicide!” He shouted.

“And who’s gonna go with me? You?” I asked as I pulled my green tee shirt over my torso and pulled my dark jeans up my hips. He gave an offended chuckle.

“Y’know, I’m tired of you kids thinkin’ I’m too old to kick your asses. If not me, then… why not talk to Elena?” He asked, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Elena’s not goin’.” I mumbled as I opened the door, grabbing my denim collared shirt from my bed next to where Sully sat.

“And how do you know that without even asking her?” He looked at me with a cocked brow. I looked at him a moment before going to the tv stand where I stored my guns. “Sunny… it would give an old man peace of mind….” He said softly. I sighed. I hated when he played my emotions like that.

“Fine.” I said, rolling my eyes as I shoved my feet into my boots. “I will talk to her…” I shook my head as I left the room and started for Elena’s.

I rubbed my hand down my face as I stood in front of her door. I knocked lightly, tapping my foot urgently. She opened the door with a sleepy expression on her face (one rather similar to her husband’s), her blonde hair hanging in her face. “Sunny? What’s up?” She asked me, pushing her hair back.

“They left without me.” I said to her through my teeth. My hands clenched together in an attempt to calm the storm raging in me. Her eyes widened and her brows came together as she opened the door a little wider.

“They what?” She asked in surprise before tapping her fingers on the door.

“I’m gonna go after them, Elena. Sully doesn’t want me to go alone and says that I should at least ask you….” I grumbled. She bit her lip and nodded her head in thought.

“Where are they?” She asked me, straightening her posture.

“On an island northeast of King’s Bay. Sully would be able to tell us where it is.” I said, hanging my head. She put her hands on her hips before turning into her room.

“Why tell us when he can take us?” She said going through her duffel bag to pull out some clothes. My heart skipped for a moment before speeding up any faster.

“Elena…” I said in a soft tone as I watched her change quickly.

“How soon do you think Sully can get that plane up and running?” She asked, pulling her hair up into a messy bun.

“I… maybe thirty minutes… I’ll have to ask.” I said in shock, a huge smile painting on my lips.

“Good! You got another one of those?” She asked, pointing at my gun in the holster on my hip. I smirked as I nodded. For the first time, it was going to be Elena and I braving the jungles.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the plane, bouncing my knee up and down nervously. Repeatedly checking my guns, I pursed my lips. “So what’s the plan here?” Sully asked as he flew the plane.

“I…. don’t have one….” I mumbled; Sully was right. I didn’t have a plan. I clenched my fist and shut my eyes tight, pressing my knuckles between my brows with a huff.

“Sunny, we’ll find them.” Elena said, putting a hand on my arm as she sat across from me. I gave a small smile, scoffing a tad. I shook my head at a loss.

“What am I gonna do, Els?” I frowned. “God only knows where they are by now…”

“We can split up. You take one end of the island, I’ll take the other-”

“Elena…” I heard Sully grumble with a hint of warning.

“Sullivan, you know it’s our best bet. Sunny is more than capable of going out there by herself.” She said holding her hand out for Sully to pass her another communications device. “We can cover more ground that way. And with you in the air, you can check in on us whenever.” I watched a Sully scratched at his mustache.

“I just want you two to know that I don’t like this one bit.” He mumbled.

“Blame it on Thing One and Two.” I joked blandly and Elena let out a giggle. Sully gave a forced chuckle and handed her the communication device. When the device was in my hands, an idea came to me. “Maybe we shouldn’t split up so soon. Let’s stick together until we find a Shoreline camp, then we can steal ourselves some 4x4s and we can split from there. That way we have guaranteed escape and a nice little selection of guns… Holy shit…” my voice trailed off as we flew by an island with a massive statue of a pirate. Elena and Sully were just as enchanted as I was. It was incredible. Then I became upset. They had discovered all of this already and Sam had taken my adventure away. I wanted to find that treasure just as much as they did. I was involved. And now I was behind, following the trail they’d set. With a sigh, I sat back in my seat. “Avery?” I asked.

“More than likely.” Elena responded. “But I don’t think the boys are here anymore...” She pointed towards a colossal cave, it’s mouth wide open like a snapping turtle or a shark… it gave me the jitters. At the base of this island were several Shoreline boats. They’d been trailing us every day since Italy. Evidently, we were the more capable treasure hunters.

“Let’s hope they didn’t leave too much of a mess for you ladies.” Sully commented before banking left to circle the island. “It’s too hot to drop you two off at the front door. I’ll have to put you on the side and make myself scarce. You’ll have enough on your plate when they see the plane.” I let out a long groan.

“We have to fight already?” I asked as I slung the artillery over my shoulder and sucked my teeth. “Might as well get it over with…” I grumbled as Sully lowered the plane to the island.

It happened just as he said. He dropped us off on the side of the island and almost as soon as his plane took off, we were met with soldiers. Elena and I took cover. With a bit of stealth and very few bullets from Elena’s handgun, we took out the small group of mercenaries and started towards their base. Shoreline was practically crawling all over the island so there actually weren’t many men guarding the post. I counted three men by the massive boat that carried all of their vehicles, two near artillery, and two near the cars.

Elena and I hid in the shrubbery, analyzing the situation. It was almost too easy to clear out this crew. More than half of them weren’t even paying attention so sneaking up on them was nothing. So far, Elena and I had gone through Shoreline smoothly. But I knew that it would be when we separated that things would get a little messy. “Sunny, watch your back. And if you find them, let me know…” she told me as we both climbed into our respective 4x4s. I nodded at her as I sat my gun in the front seat.

“No- you watch your back Elena.” I began as my grip tightened on the steering wheel. Suddenly, I was having second thoughts about us splitting up. “Y’know…. Maybe this was a shitty idea- I should go with you-”

“Sunny-”

“Nathan would literally kill me if anything ever happened to you. We could be looking out for each other…” I said cutting her off as I bounced in my seat nervously.

“Sunny, we will be fine. Both of us are strong, capable women and we get shit done. Anything those assholes can do, we can do. And more efficiently too.” Elena assured me. I pursed my lips and nodded before staring off in no particular direction, thinking of all the possible things that could go wrong. “Hey…. you still with me?” She asked me, catching my gaze.

“Yep…. I guess we should go now then.” I said starting the car.

“You drive towards the north end and I’ll take the south!” She shouted above the engines. I shot her a smile to let her know that I “wasn’t worried” and began to speed off, Elena taking off in the opposite direction.

And then there was me. I was still racking my brain, trying to think of what exactly I could say to Sam besides a giant “fuck you”. He knew I wanted to help find that treasure, he knew I needed this and he just took matters into his own hands. Matters that weren’t his to take. With a frustrated sigh, I rested my head in my hand as I drove between ruins and landscapes. I took a path that led me to driving along a few cliffs when I noticed them. Along the shoreline was ship wreckage. One big boat had a large hole blown through the side and a bunch of smaller ones around it were either destroyed and floating in the waves or crashed among the sand and rocks. ‘Holy shit guys…. what were you doing?!’ I thought as my path began to take me deeper into the jungle. That’s when I heard a loud boom and rapid gunfire in the distance. I started to panic a little bit as I sat up in my seat, driving with a bit more haste. I could only hope for now that it wasn’t Elena or Nate and Sam.

I stopped the car in a valley with rocky walls lining either side. I could hear the gunfire more clearly now above me. I climbed the walls until I found myself at the top, watching a shoot out. As I took cover to see what the commotion was all about, I saw Nathan atop some rocks in the distance, taking out a good chunk of Shoreline’s fleet. I began to assist him and take out a few mercenaries of my own, calling for my best friend’s attention but the gunfire was just too much and too loud. I watched as he got further and further away from me. I then realized that I was the only one in this fight. “Oh fuck me…” I groaned as I picked up some ammo from a dead man’s vest. I fought my way through the men as best as I could but they just kept coming in waves and I was growing tired. I’d been shot in the side. Just a graze but it was enough to annoy me. As I had come to realize my best just wasn’t enough, I found myself cornered, all guns pointed at me; there was nothing I could do about it. “Goddammit!” I hissed to myself. No one could bail me out of this one. I was alone. That’s when I heard a familiar woman’s voice.

“What the hell is all that racket?!” I heard her say. One of the mercenaries with Mohawk mullet situation gestures to his men to let her pass through as he spoke.

“We got one of them. The Spurrs girl.” He said. And my heart jumped at the sight of her. Dressed in her militant fatigues and her curls bellowing in the wind was Nadine Ross. She seemed much more comfortable in this climate than she did at the auction. But I suppose we all were. She crossed her arms and scoffed with a mischievous smile playing on her curved lips.

“Oh dear…” she mewled as she approached me.

“Seems like those Drake brothers left their little pet behind. Want me to off her?” The mercenary smirked as he stroked my cheek carefully. My stomach lurched at the contact and Nadine grabbed his wrist.

“That doesn’t mean you get to put your hands on her. Have a little respect, Orca. And no. Adler is going to want her alive.” she said to him before turning back to me. She paced in front of me, swinging her hips as she pointed a finger at me. “I remember you. You were at the auction. Rafe’s date…”

“Yup…that’s me...” I grumbled, trying my best to calm myself. She chuckled lightly as she pulled out her pistol and pointed it at me.

“Oh he’s gonna have a lovely time with you. You and these Drake brothers have caused us quite a bit of trouble. I will admit it though. I definitely underestimated you lot.”

“Meh. It happens all the time if you can believe it.” I smirked at her with sarcasm, staring at her amber colored eyes. “I never once underestimated you though. Beauty and brains is a scary good combination.” I bat my lashes at her and spoke real slow, drawing out my accent in hopes to soften her up a bit. She grinned as she leaned towards me, resting a hand on my cheek.

“Flattery will get you nowhere in your position I’m afraid. But you’re sweet.” She said to me with a pleasant expression before it rolled into annoyance and a snarl. With a swift swing, she struck my cheek with her fist and I fell to my knees, holding my jaw to make sure she hadn’t broken it. That woman could pack a punch. It left me a little light headed from the force in all honesty.

“What happened to hands off?” I asked.

“I said he couldn’t hit you. Never said a thing about me. On your feet. Relieve Ms. Spurrs of all her weapons and devices.” She commanded and two mercenaries grabbed me by my elbows and pulled me to my feet, tying my wrists behind me with a zip tie and yanking me about; several hands rubbed and prodded me, taking away my guns, my knife, and my connection to Elena. I groaned at my situation. I kept thinking what Nathan would do if he were in my position. ‘Make lame jokes until he was in a better position…’ I thought. I couldn’t do much else at this point. So I decided that I would wait and face Rafe...

“Oh please tell me you have some super fancy resort base somewhere on the island.” I said as I threw my head back. “This heat is killin’ me!” I continued talking and making witty quips to show that I was nothing to worry about as they led me to a 4x4.

“Shut it!” The man called Orca snapped, forcefully shoving me towards the open car door.

“Alright, alright- easy, dude!” I exclaimed before sliding into the seat. As he got in behind me, I watched as Nadine jumped in the front seat, pressing a button on her communication device.

“Come in, Rafe!” She said into the speaker.

“Goddamn it, Nadine, what is it now? I’m busy!” I heard his voice angrily reply on the other side. I rolled my eyes as I looked around for a moment. My gaze gravitated toward a cliff in the distance. I could see Nathan and Sam and for a small moment, I felt a bit of relief. They were okay. I panicked a little as I stared at the two intently like an idiot, hoping that maybe they’d see me if they felt eyes on them. Of course it was no use. I watched both of them arguing about something briefly before running off and gave a defeated sigh. ‘Don’t let these assholes get ahead, Natey!’ I thought as they disappeared between a rough bunch of vines.

“I’ve got a present for you. Sunny Spurrs.” She said and the line went quiet for a moment.

“Bring her to camp.” He said simply and darkly. Now I was nervous. It was time for me to stand up to yet another man.

I felt physically sick the whole drive. Another fragile male ego had been hurt and I was going to pay the price for it. I damn near wanted to cry when the car stopped at a site, Shoreline mercenaries of every kind crawling atop every ruin and all doing their part to find something valuable. The only reason I was feeling remotely confident was because I knew they were going the wrong way, checking the wrong things. ‘Idiots…’ I thought as Orca hopped out and grabbed my elbow, practically dragging me out of the 4x4. I fell onto the itchy grass with a whine as I tried to deal with the brief pain. “This shit ain’t soft, y’know!” I snapped at him as he pulled me to my feet. Nadine chuckled as she started off towards an area beneath the ruins.

“Shut your mouth and move!” He snapped as he pushed me forward.

“Alright! I’m goin’!” I yelled before following Nadine very carefully.

As we got closer to the ruin, I could see the man I dreaded to run into again; he was leaning over a desk with another man looking at a map, speaking angrily. Most likely, he still hadn’t found his way into Libertalia. My heart raced as we neared him. I had to keep my cool. I couldn’t let him get to me and I couldn’t let him catch up to the boys. When he locked eyes with Nadine, he excused the man from the area and smiled that million dollar smile before kissing her cheek. And then his eyes fell upon me. He was dressed in a black tee shirt that clung to his chest for dear life and comfortable black cargos with boots. His hair was still freshly slicked back off of his forehead, those dimples still etched into his cheeks. There were little dark circles beneath his eyes now though; as if he’d been losing sleep. Or as if he hadn’t slept at all. He seemed more agitated since I saw him last. Orca shoved me towards him and I dropped to my knees, hissing as they skidded in the dirt a little. Rafe walked before me with his arms opened wide to me.

“Well look who we have here… Sunflower Matilda Spurrs. I wondered what happened to you.” He laughs in amusement. He wagged a finger at me as his chuckles died down. He knelt down and inched closer to me, a strong hand holding my face roughly. I whimpered a bit in fear as he spoke. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do here, baby doll…” he whispered to me darkly. I grunted as I snatched my face from his grip, huffing to calm myself. He pulled away and narrowed his eyes at me with a small smile. “I looked you up afterwards, y’know. My mistake. I should’ve looked you up beforehand.”

“Careful Rafe, you’re beginning to sound like you’re obsessed with me.” I smirked as I glared at him. He nodded as he laughed to himself, rising to his feet.

“You’ve got quite the colorful history, Ms. Spurrs.” He said, pacing in front of me with his hands posed behind his back.

“Really?! Whatcha find?” I asked, my voice dripping in sarcastic surprise.

“Well it’s nothing you don’t already know- and correct me if I’m wrong. Abandoned by your father, grew up on the streets- yada yada; Former receptionist at AIM industries until… Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the events that transpired back then.” He continued on with a shit eating grin and I eyed him carefully as he unveiled my history. “Which leads me to your big career moves: Cyberextortion, Cyberwarfare- such a bad girl you are, huh? Online harassment- you were a cyber bully?” He chuckled. I smirked and gave a shrug, staring him straight into his eyes.

“Bitch owed me money and tried to skip out on payment. Made his social life a living hell.” I said. He leaned in towards me.

“Just between us, what did you do?” He asked.

“Leaked his embarrassing nudes.” I said simply. He gave an amused dark chuckle. “I also had proof that he was a local pedophile. I told him I wouldn't go to the authorities if he paid up.” I grinned devilishly. “Of course I still gave him up.”

He stood up and clapped dramatically. “And yet she’s such a hero.” He said before his wide open palm came in contact with my cheek, busting my lip a bit. I groaned and spat out a bit of blood at his Gucci climbing boots as I looked up at him. “And now, she’s a stripper. Barely making minimum wage. Barely supporting herself! The only way you could afford to keep living was by working alongside a washed up journalist, a senile old man, and a couple of two bit thieves.” His words cut into me like a knife as he looked me in the eyes. I glared at him, trying my best to keep my anger in control.

“Eat shit, Adler-”

“Y’know what hurts the most, Sunny? I actually really liked you. I saw myself with you for a moment… Here I thought I’d found this unbelievable woman. Smart, gorgeous, funny… I was even willing to accept your stupid hillbilly hick accent.” He paced back and forth before me as he pulled on his gun, a black and silver custom glock weighing in his hand loosely. “But when that fell through, I figured maybe I just wanted a good lay. And then I find out… that you’re my competitor… and working with Nathan Drake no less!”

“You hold petty grudges like a teenage girl- has anyone ever told you that?” I quipped rather quickly. He laughed before lowering his voice.

“You’re funny. But all that bon mot isn’t gonna help you if I don’t get what I want, Ms. Spurrs.” He said to me before pushing the gun into my temple. “So where is it, Sunny?”

“What is ‘it’, Rafe-” Before I could even finish my question, he struck me again. He held my face in his hands again as he spoke.

“Where’s Libertalia?” He rephrased.

“What makes you think I know?” I retorted. He gave an exacerbated sigh as he pulled back on the safety of his gun with a click. I let out a shaky whimper as my eyes closed and he put the gun to my temple again.

“Cut the bullshit, Sunny. Where is it?” He asked me again, slowly. My hands began to shake.

“I don’t know.” I answered, almost immediately. “E-Even if I did know, I wouldn’t be able to tell you how to get there. Navigation is Nathan’s gig. He’s like Indiana Jones and I’m like a… southern, black…. much more attractive version of MacGyver, ya see.” I laughed nervously.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re absolutely useless to me and there’s no reason for you to keep breathing?” He asked darkly as he stood up again, his finger gently brushing the trigger. I was sweating bullets now. My lips quivered as I stared down the barrel of his gun. I had to keep myself alive. And unfortunately that meant giving away a bit of information. I remembered where the brothers had run off and figured that was a place to start. I hoped they had made it far enough into Libertalia by now. Even so, I’d try to stall them as best as I could. ‘Which means taking the long ways…’ I thought. I sighed before speaking.

“I… can take you part of the way… There’s a jungle path near the site we just left and I could’ve sworn I had seen Avery’s sigil on the wall right next to it….” I said, wincing at the pain surrounding my lip.

“Good. That’s a start. You can lead us there but don’t try anything stupid. My team will have you dead before you even breathe your next breath. Got that, babydoll?” He growled. I flared my nostrils as I boldly stared into his eyes.

“Yeah… I got it.” I hissed, my body shaking as multiple emotions coursed through me. A disturbingly handsome smile crept across his lips as he stood.

“Fantastic.” He said as he tucked his gun away and pulled a knife from his pocket. With a single swipe, he cut me free from the zip ties and I frowned as I massaged my now bruised wrists. “I look forward to our partnership, Sunny.”

#uncharted #uncharted 4 #sam drake #samuel drake #samuel drake x reader #uncharted x reader #sam drake fanfiction #sam drake x reader smut #sam drake smut #uncharted smut #rafe adler x oc #rafe adler #nadine ross #nathan drake #elena fisher #victor sullivan #poc oc #poc

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andrewrosswatson1987 · 5 years

Text

REVISIT: EMINEM UNVEILED THE MARSHALL MATHERS LP THIS DAY IN 2000

Eminem released his third album, The Marshall Mathers LP, which came out today (May 23) in 2000, released via labels, Aftermath/Interscope. Worldwide, it’s sold over thirty-five million copies to date. Singles for this album were “The Real Slim Shady”, “The Way I Am”, “Stan”, “I’m Back” and “B*tch Please II”. “Kill You” opens with “When I just a little baby boy my momma used to tell me these crazy things; she used to tell me my daddy was an evil man, she used to tell me he hated me, but then I got a little bit older and I realised she was the crazy one; but there was nothin’ I could do or say to try to change it, ‘cos that's just the way she was”. That’s only the start. “Just bend over and take it like a slut; okay, Ma? Oh, now he’s raping his own mother,” for example. “Texas Chainsaw, left his brains all danglin’ from his neck, while his head barely hangs on; blood, guts, guns, cuts/Knives, lives, wives, nuns, sluts,” more so. “Buck with me, I been through hell, shut the hell up; I’m tryin’ to develop these pictures of the Devil to sell ‘em” darker yet, to the depths of the hell, licks of guitar and bobbing bass ominous.

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“Stan”, featuring Dido, opens with pouring rain and the latter singing mournfully. The descending bassline adding to that effect. The fan, indeed, descends from infatuation to the incensed. This evidenced in, “Dear Slim, you still ain’t called or wrote, I hope you have a chance/I ain’t mad, I just think it's f*cked up you don’t answer fans”. Real invective as he swears at his idol. “Remember when we met in Denver, you said if I’d write you you would write back; see, I’m just like you in a way, I never knew my father, neither/He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her”. “See everything you say is real, and I respect you ‘cos you tell it/My girlfriend’s jealous ‘cos I talk about you 24/7,” coming between Stan and his other half. “It’s been six months and still no word, I don’t deserve it/I know you got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on ‘em perfect” and “You ruined it, now; I hope you can’t sleep and you dream about it/And when you dream I hope you can’t sleep and you scream about it/I hope your conscience eats at you and you can’t breathe without me” progressively impassioned, voice breaking and all. Eminem finally writes back. “You got some issues, Stan, I think you need some counselling/To help your ass from bouncing off the walls when you get down some” like idol turned counsellor. “Who Knew” is harsh hit of programmed drum with sparse guitar and bass. The lyrical bent equally harsh, no blunt instruments. “I’m like, guidance/Ain’t they got the same moms and dads who got mad when I asked if they liked violence”. Then, “And told me that my tape taught ‘em to swear/What about the makeup you allow your twelve-year-old daughter to wear” proving universal hypocrisy. “Wasn’t me; Slim Shady said to do it, again/Damn, how much damage can you do with a pen,” perhaps turning inwards, once again.

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The dark thoughts of “The Way I Am” is cyclical of piano, tolling of bell. “I’m not Mr. Friendly, I can be a pr*ck” demonstrating this. “I’m lifting you ten feet in the air/I don’t care/Who was there/And who saw me, just jaw you; go call you a lawyer, file you a lawsuit” getting irate. “When a dude’s getting bullied and shoots up his school,” to the point. “I’m racin’/I’m pacin’, I stand and I sit/And I’m thankful for every fan that I get/But I can’t take a sh*t/In the bathroom without someone standing by it” ramping this up. “Remember Me?”, featuring RBX and Sticky Fingaz, takes it back. Deep, dark and sinister. “I’m tryin’ to clean up my f*ckin’ image/So I promised the f*ckin’ critics I wouldn’t say, f*ckin’, for six minutes” has him willing to compromise. Then, “F*ck that” has him exploding, going back, seemingly, on his word. Then the biting invective in “I’m Back”, with wayward, conspiratorial guitar with regimented bass and drum forming the basis of the no compromise feel. “You better get rid of that nine it ain’t gonna help/What good is it gonna do against a man that strangles himself” dark and twisted. “I used to get punked and bullied on my block, ‘til I cut a kitten’s head off and stuck it in this kid’s mailbox” definitely more so. “I take seven kids from Columbine/Stand ‘em all in line/Add an AK-47, a revolver, a nine/A MAC-11 and it oughta solve the problem of mine/And that’s a whole school of bullies shot up all at one time” censored even in the explicit version. “Marshall Mathers” is contemplative and what seems fretless bass. “Yo, you might see me joggin’/You might see me walkin’, you might see me walkin’ a dead Rottweiler dog with its head chopped off in the park with a spiked collar, hollerin’ at him ‘cos the sonofabitch won’t quit barkin’” peaking early, quick to rise to anger. “Drivin’ up the block in the car that they shot ‘Pac in, looking for Big’s killers, dressin’ ridiculous/Blue and red, like I don’t see what the big deal is” leads to, “...watchin’ all these cheap imitations get rich off ‘em”. “The New Kids On The Block sucked a lot of d*ck/Boy, girl groups make me sick/And I can’t wait ‘til I catch all you f*ggots in public/I’ma love it” both arresting and vile. “I think I was put here to annoy the world/And destroy your little four-year-old boy or girl” devastating, “Talkin’ about I fabricated my past/He’s just aggravated I won’t ejaculate in his ass” more impossibly so. The bass breaks out latterly, twice in fact. Dark ode to Detroit, “Amityville”, featuring Bizarre, resounds with the sound of drum, sparse as if to fuel paranoia. “That’s why we’re crowned the murder capital, still/This ain't Detroit, this is mother*ckin’ Hamburger Hill” like revelling in local reputation. The infamy of it all. Rock guitar embellishes the closing moments. “Bitch Please II”, featuring Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Xzibit and Nate Dogg, has classic written all over just looking at the cameo list and it doesn’t disappoint. Melding the white and black audiences, like Dre in, “Throw on “Guilty Conscience” at concerts/And watch mosh pits/’til mother*ckers knock eachother unconscious/Some of these crowds that Slim draws is rowdy as Crenshaw Boulevard/When it’s packed and full of cars”. Track, “Criminal”, has funereal organ. Criminal? “You goddamn right,” the response. “How many records you expecting to sell/After your second LP sends you directly to jail” details his past transgressions. Has he learned? Nope. Then an intermission with him robbing a bank, the song faded to the background and popping the bank clerk in the face. “Sh*t, half the sh*t I say, I just make it up to make you mad, so kiss my white naked ass/And if it’s not a rapper that I make it as/I’ma be a fuckin’ rapist in a Jason mask” incendiary and waving his rear in full view of white Middle America. The overall highlights are “Kill You”, “Stan”, “Who Knew”, “The Way I Am”, “The Real Slim Shady”, “Remember Me”, “I’m Back”, “Marshall Mathers”, “Drug Ballad”, “Amityville”, “Bitch Please II”, “Under The Influence” and “Criminal”.

Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers LP album can be bought on iTunes, here.

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the-redemption-arch · 5 years

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So apparently the Mantles like to keep secrets (part 2)

“Is it true, Dad?”, Reggie barked at his father as soon as they were inside again.

Sweet Pea – or how his father had called him Nathaniel – had cleared off just as quickly as he had appeared on their porch in the first place, but what couldn’t clear off as quick was the truth he had finally exposed to him.

“I always knew you were a liar, but this!?”, Reggie was losing his mind about it, pointing a finger on his old man as if that was gonna help making him feel guilty for what he did.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”, he finally asked in a desperate manner. How could he have kept this from him? A frickin' brother!?

“I didn’t want you to know about my mistake.”, Marty answered openly – calmly, even, yet Reggie knew the expression on his face. “I didn’t want you to bond with this kid.”

“This kid? Are you fucking kidding me!?”, Reggie was just as temperamental as his dad, taking a few steps towards him and building himself up in front of him.

“Who’s his mom!?”, he inquired loudly. “Who’d you knock up?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s dead.”

“Dead!? Since when?”

“She died when she gave birth to him.”

“And he’s still not living with us!?” Not once in his life had he felt sympathy for the serpent boy but now? Now it was all crushing down on him and there was no way for him to fade it down.

He turned away from his father, more disappointed than he’s ever been, his fingers running through his dark hair as he was trying to understand what the fuck was going on.

“Damn. I always knew you were cold as ice but this? This really takes the cake.”

“Reginald, you don’t understand!”

“And how would I!? He’s my brother! Your son!”, he turned around again, facing his old man, nearly screaming at his face now.

“I loved her, Reginald.”

“What!?”

“Her name was Eleanor. She was from the Southside. A serpent. Your mother... found out about my affair just when she was in labor. I wasn’t with her when she died. I wasn’t with her when Nathaniel was born.”

Reggie’s face convulsed. He didn’t know what to think. To feel.

“So instead of being with the woman you loved... You were here fighting with my mom? Who you don’t love?”, Reg was trying to put the pieces together.

“Yes, but... It’s complicated.”

“How is that complicated, Dad?”

None of them said a word before Reg eventually turned away to go to the kitchen and returned with two beers, one he threw over to his father, the other he kept to himself. Opening it up, he sat down on the couch – no sound escaping his lips when he took a sip.

„So...“, he started afterwards. “Why’d the two of you stay together? If you don’t love each other?”

“It was a nasty fight. I broke up with her, eventually and left the house to be with Eleanor. To hold her hand while she had him. But when I arrived she was already dead. FP Jones was beside her.”

Silence. Reg took another sip.

“I didn’t know what to do. I was shattered. My life was falling apart in front of my eyes and he offered to take him in. Make him a serpent and be there for him, his whole life. As that was what she would have wanted. What serpents lived like.”

“So you agreed to that.”

“No. Not at all. Not at first. But I wasn’t able to think straight. I came back home, leaving Nathaniel with FP. Melinda awaited me. Telling me that if I left her, she’d take the Car Dealership from me.”

“Can she do that?”, Reggie asked, clearly confused about the fact that the only thing his father took pride for apparently wasn’t fully his.

“Yes. Her family founded it. I was only nominated CEO because she was my wife. It was never mine.”

“So you stayed with her and left Nate with the Serpents... Because you couldn’t bear the thought of losing your precious Car Dealership?”

Marty Mantle was holding onto it and sucking onto his beer bottle like a goddamn baby, his eyes directed into the void.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard enough for today.”, Reg decided, getting up and dressing up in his leather jacket.

“Where are you going?”, Marty asked, sheer panic appearing in his eyes.

“Go find him.”

part 1

#reggie mantle #reggiemantleedit #reginald mantle #marty mantle #martymantleedit #sweetpeaedit #nathaniel mantle #nate mantle #sweet pea #reggie x sweet pea #sweet pea x reggie #fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale theory #mantle family #headcanon

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hanalwayssolo · 5 years

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What We Owe To Each Other: Ch. 3 - Night

A/N: Here’s the angsty part of a fic literally no one asked for!!!

[Link on AO3]

Sam did not want to admit it out loud, but he was starting to believe that he was truly and utterly lost.

He pulled out his phone and checked his current location. He was sure about the direction he had taken; he had passed the right landmarks, made no unnecessary turns from the main road. His destination was off the beaten path but thankfully, it had stopped raining and the fog had partly cleared that he managed to easily spot his way. He had been certain that he was in the right address. This had to be the right place.

What was bothering him now was that the house that loomed behind the massive iron-wrought gates was the exact opposite of a fucking cottage.

Sam pulled over next to a silver Sedan (another rental, he could tell by that same tacky sticker plastered on its windshield) hooded over by the blood-red foliage of maple trees on what appeared to be the lot’s designated parking space. In the discomfort of the Chevy’s front seat, he began to assess all his available options. He could check out the house, ask its occupants for proper directions. Or he could turn his way back around. He could find a decent lodging to spend the night somewhere in Westmore, or any nearby town perhaps, and craft another excuse to tell his brother as to why he didn’t make it.

Or, well, he could disregard his pride and simply call Nathan for help.

This is stupid. I’m being stupid.

Sam sighed. He fished his phone out again, scrolled through his list of contacts, hovered over Nathan’s name for a little too long. He has not even called him yet, but he can already hear his brother’s clever and punk-ass reaction.

Fine. Fuck this.

He took another deep breath. Just as he was about to press that Call button, a knock on his window startled him out of his wits.

“Holy Mother of God!” Sam hissed, accidentally slamming a hand over the car horn that it shrieked like a shameless cry for help. He turned, and by the window was a familiar face curiously watching him with an almost amused expression.

It was Elena.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as soon as he got out of the car. She was in a cozy-looking parka, sweatpants and running shoes, her cheeks a shade rosier from the cold. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It was freezing as fuck. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I was out for a walk. Then I saw that there’s another car parked next to ours. Figured it would be you.”

“Oh.”

“And you were in there for a really long time, so. Yeah.”

“Well, I thought I was…” Sam trailed off. He looked at the house behind Elena, then back at her. “I’m in the right place, am I?”

“Yup.” Elena was smiling. “Trust me, that was our reaction when we first got here, too. Seriously, Sullivan needs to work on his definition of a cottage.”

Sam stared at her. “Christ, Victor owns this place?”

Elena nodded in response. “C’mon,” she said cheerily, nodding her head towards the gate, “Let’s get inside. I’ll let Sullivan explain everything to you and maybe get him to take you on his personal tour.”

Sam grabbed his duffel from the trunk and let Elena lead the way.

The sun slowly plummeted over the horizon, simmering gold through the trees, scorching the sky like a third-degree burn. There was no noise except for the crunch of their shoes on the carpet of gravel and dried leaves, the whistle of the wind, the chorus of birdsong from somewhere up the canopies. The air was sharp and chilly. Not far away, the Mansard roof and the whitewashed façade of Sully’s estate began to reveal itself behind the veil of autumn foliage like an enigmatic bride.

“By the way,” Sam began as they climbed the front steps, “I heard from Nathan. Congratulations. Good job for making me an uncle.”

Elena laughed. “You’re welcome. Glad to be of service, I guess.”

“Now I hope you don’t mind if I teach your kid a thing or two about picking locks and—”

“Oh don’t even think about that.”

“Alright. I’ll simply bore them to death.”

“Now that’s impossible. Trouble makes you the least boring person I know.”

“Whoa, now I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment.”

“It is a compliment.” She turned to face him, smiled at him knowingly. “But y’know, I suppose I should thank you, too.”

“Really?” Sam quirked a curious brow. “For what?”

“Nate told me about your sage advice.”

“Oh. That.” Sam shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it sagely,” he said, “but more like a push in the right direction.”

“Of course. But I appreciate it, really. Anyway,” she said as she casually opened the mahogany doors before them, “After you.”

Elena ushered Sam inside the house. Walking into the foyer, he found himself taking a sharp inhale and stuttering to a halt: gilt mirrors and chandeliers, potted palms and porcelain vases, plaster-medallioned ceiling and ivory floors polished to saintly perfection. Down to the wide archway to his immediate right was a gallery exquisitely curated with the finest marble sculptures and Impressionist paintings (there were a couple from Monet and Cézanne and Renoir which he recognized almost immediately, like spotting a familiar face in a crowd of strangers, and he hated how he still knew this because this was Darcy’s thing and fuck he did not need to be reminded of her at this time of day), a couple of photographs and portraits lining the walls, and ancient pieces that would probably cost more than his life. Somewhere, the jazz music he had heard earlier from the phone echoed like a sickly sweet invitation. Even the room smelled nice and elegant: of roast beef, of roses, of cigars and big money. Also, it was comfortably warm.

Startled and half-dazed, not quite sure what he was seeing or where he was even, as if he had been suddenly jettisoned to outer space, Sam turned to Elena and said: “This is… are you positively sure this is Victor’s house?”

Elena huffed an amused laugh. “I know it’s a lot to take in but yeah.” She shouldered off her parka and hung it over a coat rack. She helped Sam out of his jacket, too. “Nate and Sully’s in the kitchen—”

“I’ll be goddamned—look who decided to show up.”

A rich and sonorous voice that Sam knew so well rang out and sauntered into the hall.

“Victor.” Sam offered a small nod as the one and only man of the house—nay, mansion—gave him a strong, parental hug which he returned rather sheepishly. Though he found it strange to be shown such an affectionate gesture, it was even stranger for him to see Victor outside his usual colourful Havana shirts; in his gray long-sleeved turtleneck and dark trousers, he almost seemed so foreign. Warm and snug, sure—but still painfully foreign. Despite that, he still carried that same slick and silvery charm as if he never aged a day.

“Well now.” Victor stepped back, clapping both hands on Sam’s broad shoulders. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t show up.”

“What can I say? I live to disappoint.” Sam shrugged. “But anyway,” he said, “be honest with me: who did you murder to afford this place, huh? We had all the time in Lisbon and you didn’t tell me about this!”

“I’m glad to let you know that I didn’t get my hands bloody to get this place. This belonged to my family for generations.” Victor extracted a pack from the back pocket of his jeans and lit a cigar. “This—“ he was gesturing a hand in the air, the curl of smoke rising between his fingers— “had been in tatters a couple of years back. Had to make sure this entire place was in its pristine condition before I had anyone come over and see it.”

“And that’s only half of the story,” Elena added. She crossed her arms and looked at Victor critically. “Wait until you hear about how he acquired a certain Rembrandt piece.”

Sam waved away Elena’s words with an incredulous hand. “Wait a fucking second.” He stared at Victor. “Did I hear that right? You have a goddamn Rembrandt? What the—”

“Elena? Sully? You guys left me in the kitchen and you all know how I’m accident-prone—oh, about time you got here!”

Sam turned and was welcomed by Nathan with a firm slap on his back as soon as he walked in. He was wearing a dark cashmere sweater, ripped jeans, and one of those aprons with an obscenely suggestive text that said May I suggest this sausage written in a terrible font face.

“Why hello there, little brother,” Sam said a shade too mockingly. “Don’t you look dashing.”

Nathan scowled. “Okay, before you even judge me,” he began to tell Sam defensively, “I have to say that this—” he gestured a hand over his apron— “belongs to Sully.”

“Not that I needed clarification, but okay,” Sam said smugly. They all laughed.

“Look, kid,” said Victor, turning to Nathan, “why don’t you take your brother to his room? Elena and I will take care of things down here.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Nathan peeled off the apron and handed it to Victor. “Can’t bear the thought of being the jackass to accidentally burn your mansion.”

Victor shook his head. “That’s why I’m effectively relieving you of kitchen duty. Now scoot.”

Sam followed Nathan down the hall, up a sweeping staircase, and then another hall with mahogany doors leading to more rooms. More photographs and more gilt-framed portraits hung on the walls. Everywhere smelled sweet and musty and oppressively opulent.

“Here we are,” said Nathan as he opened the last door at the end of the corridor.

Obviously, the room was nothing less lavish than what Sam had seen thus far from the entire house. Stepping inside, it was as if he had slipped into a different time period, some Gothic universe that distinctly reeked of that 19th-century grandeur: fancy carpets on hardwood floors, paneled walls of deep green, gray velvet curtains draped over large windows. A pair of armchairs and a lumpy sofa upholstered in rose-patterned fabric were primly arranged opposite a marble fireplace. Figurines and books occupied any available surface. In the middle of the room, an ornately carved four-poster bed covered in fluffy linens seduced Sam with the lure of much-needed sleep.

“Jesus,” he said, dropping his bag next to a rosewood desk. “This house is fucking nuts.”

Nathan laughed. “I know,” he said. “This is like one of those rooms in Hampton Court Palace. Remember—“

“Yeah, yeah—first heist with Cutter, I know.” And with Darcy, too. Sam winced an empty smile. “Don’t need to remind me,” he muttered almost to himself. “So—“ he paced across the room, looking around earnestly, decidedly eager to change the subject— “how did the talk go with the wife?”

“Oh.” Nathan sat at the edge of the bed. “It was okay. Got to sort things out. And…” He trailed off. “Well, you were right,” he said quietly.

Sam stopped and narrowed his eyes at Nathan, a snarky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Come again? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Nathan snorted a derisive laugh. “You just want me to say it again, don’t you?”

“I really need you to say it again ‘cause I didn’t hear it the first time.”

“Well, I won’t.”

“Really? So that’s how it is?”

“Fine, fine. I said you were right.”

Sam beamed a triumphant smiled. “Why, thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

They did not say anything for a while. Then, Nathan got up and walked to the door. “Anyway,” he said, awkwardly clearing his throat, “I know you’re tired, so I’ll leave and give you time for a decent shut-eye. Dinner’s at eight, by the way.”

“Yeah, sure. Got it.”

Left to his own devices, Sam began to look around the room with a studied carefulness, examining every trinket and decor he could find like a detective dusting for fingerprints. He soon lost interest. He rarely got bored with things like these, but perhaps it was the exhaustion. Perhaps it was an exhaustion of an alien stranded in a different time, trying to phone home.

But there was no home. He never had one. And somehow, as he laid down on the bed in resignation, staring at the ceiling, he felt like he was not supposed to be here at all.

___

Sam is back in his prison cell in Panama.

He is supposed to be used to this by now—as one does, he guessed, if one had spent more than a decade incarcerated for a crime he did not commit—except the rush of terror that cuts him is a freshly sharpened blade. The trauma resurrects itself anew. It does not settle to be a memory so it replays itself like this:

Two men seize him by the arms, dragging him out and throwing him into the darkness. He is welcomed by a sharp embrace of a metal pipe, of many pairs of fists, and his knees, oh his knees are traitorous allies that buckles and trembles onto the cold, shit-stained floor. His bullet wounds have not fully recovered yet but the guards are his doctors believing that he will find his healing in the violence. This is his medicine. They watch him swallow and gag and retch. Get used to it, they say. This will make a better man out of you, says another. This is what your freedom looks like now, someone else spits out. The men restore his body with bruises. Paints him purple and pink and bloody. Split lip and swollen eyes. What is his body but a dishrag pulp of flesh? Pain is as sweet as morphine, a name that his body has memorized like an old lover’s kiss. So he takes and takes and takes. He does not scream. He does not beg them to stop. But he cries. His sobs echo without a sound. He lets his own voice choke him until they kill him for good.

___

Sam had meant to only sleep for a few hours, but he woke up sweating and with a heaving start to find the room bathed in silvery moonlight that made everything seem so startling and disarmingly unreal. Groggily, he looked around and the first one he saw was a woman sitting by the side of his bed.

And he was gripping her wrist like he was squeezing the life out of her.

It took him seconds to realize that it was Elena.

He let go of her, suddenly aflame with embarrassment.

“Shit, I—“ he stammered, running a hand over his hair, fumbling to turn on the bedside lamp— “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t—“

“Hey, it’s alright,” Elena said. She was looking at him with a pained and worried expression on her face that made his embarrassment even worse. “Bad dream?” she asked.

“Sort of.”

“For how long have you been going through this?”

Sam did not answer. He did not know what he should tell her. He could only avoid her gaze like a fretful child, and a part of him hated it.

Before the silence could stretch on for more uncomfortable minutes, Elena got up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she said regretfully. “Anyway, Nate was supposed to be the one to wake you up, but Sully sent him for a quick errand but um, I’m here to let you know that dinner’s ready.”

Sam nodded weakly. “Right. Uh, Elena?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell Nathan about this.”

Elena stared at him with obvious admonishment, as if she was she was holding back the judgment she was trying to pass. “Okay, I won’t,” she said finally. “Because I trust that you’ll be the one to tell him about it.”

Sam said nothing. He watched Elena close the door behind her.

#uncharted #uncharted fanfiction #samuel drake #sam drake #elena fisher #nathan drake #victor sullivan #my writing #if you can't tell already i kind of like to suffer i guess??????????

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roseamongroses · 4 years

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Antithesis: “what do you have? “ I have a kNIFE” “NO”

[Specific-Summary]: They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn't mean it'll always hurt, nor does it mean they can't have fun along the way. It's senior year. Everything may be different. It won't be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking,

[Tags/mood:] highschool au, fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously)

(8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

(16) (17) (18)

L: I May Have Lost Roman

V: nice

P: not nice :)

V: i feel vaguely threatened

Rem:@L how the fuck did you manage that Rem: nvm i know how just give me details

L:I don’t know ? One second we were at check out L: Next minute he was Gone and Nieve is looking suspicious

L:Hold on lemme ask Dmitri

V: why is he there

L: I mean he’s actually pretty chill L: But he dropped Roman off and Nieve got attached L:I’m...not sure if she’s planning on letting him go?

V:logan, my friend, my buddy, V:the only person in this chat with basic reading comprehension

Rem: that’s pretty fair

P: it really is tbh

V: Send. Pictures.

L: Okay L: Slight Issue

V: you lost the snake too

L: I lost Dmitri too and Nieve is not spilling

Rem: oh they’re defeinately fucking

L:...Where? The bathroom?

Rem: Don’t knock it till you try it ;)

V: not to be that guy but im vetoing this discussion V: cause thats a Yikes even for you Remy

L: Alright time to find them

Rem: check ;))) the;))) bathrooms ;;))))

L: Remy.

Rem: alrighlright too far ill stop

L: Thank you.

V: keep me updated V: i only have silence and physics homework as company

L:Huh L:Found them

L: Roman….found a katanna…

V: im sorry WHAT V: Why The Fuck Does He Have A Sword

Rem: drop the location of that store man

L: 1) It’s a Katanna L: 2)I will certainly Not. L: 3) He’s trying to convince Dmitri why he should have it

L…..and Dmitri looks more amused then concerned

V: if I can't have a tarantula he sure as hell cant have a sword

L:I told him it was probably fake/ poorly made and that he should take the time to invest the proper skill in money in a real one

V: goddamit logan you cant logic roman.

L: It worked. He put it back. L: So I say I can do what I want with roman

Rem: some spicy takes from the chats only brain cell ;)

---

“So you’re turning eighteen, in a few months. ” His aunt said, dabbing her cheeks with a napkin. She still managed to hold an air of prestige despite getting utterly shitfaced the night before. Her appointments have been going well.

Dmitri looked up, masking his surprise and holding his tongue.

Dr. Montag looked over, quieting the running water and placing the dish was he was cleaning down, “Really?” he said, brushing his hands, “You got any plans?” he asked, Dmitri.

“Oh we usually do something small,” His aunt interjected, “But seeing as he’s my father’s favorite grandchild,” Only grandchild, “He’s is flying from Paris to join us. And he was never a man of modesty so I’ve been thinking about doing something special for the occasion.”

Oh.

Dmitri fought the smile creeping on his face, ducking his head. He shouldn’t be surprised that she remembered after all if his grandfather was visiting. It’s how he got his phone, laptop, his car.

It’s probably why she puts up with him, to begin with. Cause it wasn’t guilt.

“--We should get your hair cut,” She continued, and Dmitri snapped out of his thoughts, “Maybe invite Diana--he’d like her,” she murmured.

“Diana and I a-” He closed his mouth, and his aunt’s eyes shot over.

“You broke up?” She narrowed her eyes, examining her nails, “Huh, makes sense seeing as...” she gestured at him vaguely, “So who have you been sneaking around with?”

“I’m not sneaking around with anyone,” Dmitri said, meeting her gaze. And technically he was right, it’s not sneaking if she just hasn’t been asking. And he’s given up on telling.

Dr. Montag’s eyebrows knitted together confused,” Well that isn’t true,”

Dmitri’s eyes went wide, stomach sinking.

His Aunt’s grin spread, “Oh really?”

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck--

“He’s been helping me out, hon,” Dr. Montag set down a glass of water and pills beside her plate, “You’ve been so stressed lately,” he looked guilty and produced some tickets, “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Her face softened and like that the tension left the room. Those two got to linger in whatever lovey-dovey spell had taken hold of them in the last few months, but Dmitri was still on edge.

She still kept him on edge, but he could get her back. Even the playing field. Anytime he could leave this—Anytime he could flip this switch and put her on edge and make her—

He stopped eating, setting his plate aside.

He felt sick.

---

R:helllloooo R:anyone up R: sigh R: allll by mySELLLLF

L: Roman?

R: the one and lonely yes hello human contact???

L: Are you alright? It’s 3 am why are you still awake?

R: why are YOU up mm????

L: My parents have newborn twins. What’s your excuse?

R: well fuck got me there

R: i was texting dee but he was rlly tired and i stILL can’t sleep

L: Any particular reason?

R: u m

L: Private chat?

R: please

- [TheTruthAboutTheMoon]

TheWalkingMouth: Okay shoot

Cowboy:it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: I’ll tell you if it's stupid or not just say it

Cowboy: i just….like Cowboy: it's all kinda….hitting me a ll at once and i Really don’t like thinking about it but i cant bottle shit up either like you bastards so i feel like the human equivelent og a washing machine with too much laundry in it

TheWalkingMouth: Then don’t? TheWalkingMouth: Even if it's too ‘stupid’ for me I’m sure Dmitri wouldn’t mind

Cowboy: yeah but i feel like im going to say something shitty to him i Cowboy: like we should talk about it Cowboy: and i will Cowboy: but not now--later when it's not too stressful for either of us

TheWalkingMouth: Why would you say something shitty?

Cowboy: idk id jst get frustrated trying to explain it Cowboy: like hes smart as hell and probbaly get it without me saying anything but like Cowboy: I have neither the patience nor articulation right now to explain like a civil person and he doesnt need me being shitty about it

Cowboy:like,,,,,for example,,,,, if he fucks up in school, he’ll get recommended a tutor and teachers would assume hes doing his best and hes such a sweet and quiet boy

Cowboy: like he is sweet!!but hes a little shit too!! And gets away with it!!! Half those pranks he pulled on virgil, as Iconic as they were he never got in trouble for them!!!

Cowboy: when i fuck up i

Cowboy: god it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: Might not get a second chance? Yeah I get it.

TheWalkingMouth:Remember when I first transferred here? None of the teachers would take me seriously bc of my accent and if they did, they were afraid of me. I could repeat something another kid said word for word and still be told I had an attitude.

Cowboy: god i remembered that Cowboy: you answered his yes or no questions in a fuckin montone, quiet ass voice and he legit called in the office cause he got scared of a goddamn freshman

Cowboy: But ye when i fuck up Cowboy: im suddenly the lazy ass brown kid who should spend less time corrupting youth with my feminine hips and curls Cowboy: like it's not like a lot of them say it outright but it feels like if im not perfect im fufilling all the stereotypes

TheWalkingMouth: Ah okay, rant away

Cowboy: OK like like like im not like virgil right?? in a lot of ways and it fuckin shows

Cowboy: he’s been planning on going into engineering since sixth grade meanwhile i only got my shit together in highschool

Cowboy: and like now that im here/???what now??? My mother expects me to have my shit together meanwhile im over here freaking the fuck out over whether not it's worth it to even try Cowboy: like yes mother i want to go to an art/or librel arts school that may or may not accept me that we may or may not afford to find a career in who the hell knows because if i have to sit in a healthcare class or a applied mathmatics class like you did i miight actually shank the professor????

Cowboy: that i dread the thought of not trying to explore my options outside of this fucking state but i dread the thought of going bc i cant stand the thought of being away from home but i cant fucking find a reason to stay cause everyone i love is leaving or planning their own life anyway???

Cowboy: like remys gunna fuck off to who knows where regardless of whether or not he has a plans or money, pattons gunna take care of his grandmother whereever the fuck a canada ,moms moving in with tia, virgils already mentally flipping me off ready to fuck nasa , and i only fucking hope dmitri even getss the chance to choose where he goes but hes g o n e and i die from yearning behind a screen like the gay victorian i am , and you….i actually dont know

TheWalkingMouth: Teaching for either biology or physics

Cowboy: huh it fits but what about chemistry??

TheWalkingMouth: Fuck chemistry.

Cowboy: oh thank god we’re on the same page

TheWalkingMouth: Anyway, I assume you’re more worried about whether you should apply rather then if you could get in?

Cowboy: i think so

TheWalkingMouth: Well if my opinion means anything to you

Cowboy: more than you’re assuming but yeah continue

TheWalkinMouth: Wait

Cowboy: nothing nothing continue

TheWalkingMouth: Okay-- I think you should go for it but you don’t need to dive head first into it and commit to everything 100% like virgil did.

TheWalkingMouth: You’re allowed to keep your options open, to have backup plans for back up plans

TheWalkingMouth: It doesn’t mean you’re not passionate about your art. Doesn’t mean you’re inevitably going to get a office job and abandon all your dreams. It means you’re being smart and not backing yourself into a corner

TheWalkingMouth:It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay not to have it all figured out

TheWalkingMouth: Nobody does.

TheWalkingMouth: Even if no one else gives you a second chance at least give yourself a second chance.

TheWalkingMouth: It’s perfectly normal to be afraid to fuck up and get fucked over TheWalkingMouth: That doesn’t mean you will everytime TheWalkingMouth: And it certainly doesn’t mean it's the end

Cowboy:

[...Cowboy is typing…]

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

#Roman sanders #Deceit Sanders #Roceit #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts virgil #ts logan #ts remy #Antithesis

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percontaion-points · 2 years

Text

The Truth in Lies Prologue & chapter 1

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Prologue

A huge rock glittered on her left hand that she certainly was proud of. She was engaged to a prominent attorney in town, which was one of the first things, my best friend, Olivia Hamilton told me about her when she recommended me to Dr. Carter.

Does her engagement somehow make her a better OB/GYN?

“What? Harry James doesn’t suit him?”

We’d bantered over names for a little girl for weeks, but never paid attention to boy names. Once we joked that if it were a boy, we would name him Harry James to pay homage to my love of Harry Potter.

Children are not billboards for your fandom.

That was all I had to wait to celebrate this wonderful experience with the father of my unborn child.

Prologue summary: So meet McKenzie, and her friend, Jared. McKenzie is pregnant, and her baby daddy/boyfriend is too busy doing something that makes him travel a lot in order to be there. So Jared is stepping up to the plate.

The doctor comes in, does the exam, and announces that they're having a boy.

As they're leaving, McKenzie calls up her boyfriend, Nathaniel, to let him know the good news. They had hoped for a girl, so they hadn't really thought of any names. They throw out a couple of cringe-inducing fandom names, like Harry and Luke, before they decide that Evan Brandon is a good name. After literally two seconds after finding out the sex.

But, as you can imagine, everything is far from fine in the world of McKenzie. Despite Nathaniel's constant insistence that he'll “settle down” after the baby is born, she knows that he's never going to do that. (Like honey, if he didn't do it the second you found out you were pregnant, throw the entire man away.)

To make matters worse, despite Jared knowing exactly what's going on between McKenzie and Nathaniel, she feels embarrassed having her friend witness Nathaniel being so shitty towards her.

Chapter 1

For the first couple of weeks after my miscarriage, Nate was very attentive. I felt lucky to have him home with me. It had been a long time since I felt like we were a true couple, and for the first time in a long time, I had the man I fell in love with back. But as the weeks passed, things started to return to normal.

Nate acted like a caged animal, plotting his escape.

Sweetie, that should have been your first red flag that your relationship has passed its expiration date.

The sound of my mother’s voice made me chuckle. My mind associated her timbre with Molly Weasely’s voice from the second Harry Potter movie, when she scolded Fred, George, and Ron for disappearing to rescue Harry from the Dursley’s.

I like Harry Potter, don't get me wrong. But holy fucking shit read another goddamned book.

Then with a heavy heart, I adjusted my shirt and darted off in a fast sprint toward my car that was bound to take me back to my living prison.

Chapter 1 summary: Literally just days after the prologue, McKenzie suffered a miscarriage. That was three months earlier. As you can imagine, she's been super depressed over the entire thing. And her situation isn't exactly helped because Nate has been physically and emotionally absent. Whenever they do talk, they fight.

McKenzie's mom calls, and encourages her daughter to see a therapist. McKenzie again says no, that she “doesn't need one”. Mom doesn't say as much, but McKenzie knows that her mom is disappointed in her daughter for picking such a loser. But she praises McKenzie for finally taking down the nursery.

After she ends the conversation with her mom, her friend, Olivia, calls. McKenzie doesn't have the emotional energy to talk with her. Instead, she info dumps to the readers about her friend. She'd been in a relationship a few years earlier, and she'd had a gut feeling that the guy was sleeping around. So she waited and caught him in the act with another girl. For some reason, this holds about as much emotional weight as anything else in the chapter.

#The Truth in Lies Saga #The Truth In Lies (TTIL Saga)#prologue #Chapter 01 #miscarriage #Dr. Morgan Carter #McKenzie (TTIL)#Jared (TTIL)#Nathan (TTIL)#a does not equal b #children are not billboards for your fandom #please read another book #shitty men are shitty #toxic relationship #Olivia (TTIL)

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Heeeey, @badthingshappenbingo is finally underway! @burtlederp asked for Worked Themselves to Exhaustion with Ryan as our POV/Main, so here it is!

Bloodstains = requested, puppy sticker = completed

This is set post-rescue and post-trial. Tagging the crew: @spiffythespook, @bleeding-demon-teeth, and @special-spicy-chicken!

CW: Very little, actually! Some references to parental abuse and implied/references past assault/violence, but mostly this is just Ryan being Ryan

Ryan woke up with a start to discover he’d fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen table, forehead resting on one arm and the other simply hanging loose down at his side.

He still had the mug of coffee he’d been drinking sitting next to him, his fingers loosely curved around the handle. He dragged his free hand up and over to find the ceramic had totally cooled, the coffee no doubt cold and stale inside.

He blinked, lifting his head slowly, wincing at the crick of pain in his neck. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? His phone was buzzing on the table next to him and he blinked, blearily looking over at it. Must've been what woke him. Fuck, was it really 9:45 already?

When he saw ‘MOM’ and the photo he’d set of he and Corrine at the beach a couple of years ago lighting up the screen, he groaned, hit the button to silence it, and let his head drop back to the table.

He was so fucking tired and he did not have the energy to deal with his mother right now. Maybe not ever again, not where Danny was concerned.

She would tell him to get an aide, she was always telling him to get an aide. Move out (you can move right back in the house with Dad and I until you find a place, no reason to linger there wasting your twenties), leave him and Vandrum with a full-time home health care aide.

You shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of him, Ryan.

But he did, and maybe if Mom had ever felt obligated to really care about Danny, he wouldn’t have ended up wearing a goddamn dog collar in western Canada.

Not that it was Canada’s fault, or anything. Ryan hadn’t ever realized how fucking huge Canada was, before he’d flown into Edmonton on the fastest flight he could find, rented a car, and then drove and drove and drove and fucking drove to the police station his brother was waiting in - only to realize it had been more hours upon hours of driving for Nate to get Danny there in the first place.

That cabin in the woods had been literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Ryan couldn’t possibly have known, right?

He should have, though. He should have, and maybe none of it would ever have happened if his mother and father hadn’t said all that shit to Danny five years ago about regretting adopting someone who didn’t want to be part of the family business, and therefore part of the family.

They might not see their obligations, but Ryan did. He was obligated, because while Danny had been up in those woods suffering, learning to believe that Denner fucker's lies that he isn't a person, that his body belongs to Denner to use however he wants, learning to call himself a puppy and give up his name and his body and his humanity to stay alive, Ryan had been looking in all the wrong places trying to find him.

He had looked for four straight years. He'd started looking the day Danny didn’t come home from his weird meetup with the older guy he was either just crushing hard on or actually dating, no one seemed to know, and he'd kept looking until the day the cops called and said We’ll know for sure once we’ve done the DNA test, Mr. Michaelson, but we’re pretty sure this man is your brother. He had never, ever stopped looking.

He had leveraged his parents’ wealth and influence to pull together private searches long after law enforcement had given up. He had kept looking even when the cops and the FBI stopped helping them find a living man and started focusing on recovering a corpse one day, maybe decades from now, when some dumbass hiker might trip over his brother’s bones in the woods-

Stop it. He survived. You brought him home. You couldn't have known where Denner would take him. You couldn't have done more.

Yes, he could have.

He had been looking, but he hadn’t looked hard enough. He'd looked in the wrong spots, he had missed clues, somewhere, somehow. What if there had been a white hair in the bloodied car they missed? What if Denner had left a fingerprint on Vandrum's apartment building? What if what if what if.

What if none of it would ever have changed a thing?

No, his mother didn't understand, but he couldn’t ever give enough of himself to Danny's recovery to make up for what he had lost, for what he was still losing. For time suffered and time spent trying to heal.

His mother’s photo blinked away and the phone went back to empty black. Ryan sighed in relief… only to watch it light right back up as she tried a second time.

“No, fucking no,” He groaned, fighting the child’s urge to answer just because it was her, because he loved her, because she loved him. Him, but not his brother. The eternal hidden truth of the Michaelson family - one child loved, the other left out, chased off, and lost. "Leave a goddamn voicemail, Mom, come on."

He'd been up all night, for the third night in a row, and Ryan was tapped the fuck out.

One super fun discovery Ryan had made about bringing home two people who had lived in nonstop fight-or-flight-or-freeze mode for four years was that they never stop getting sick.

Danny's immune system had apparently just checked out at some point and left, and Ryan could usually handle it, but this virus or whatever it was... was bad.

Vandrum usually did his best to help, but he had caught the bug, too, this time. Which meant two grown men reduced to middle-of-the-night coughing fits and all-day fevers, two grown men essentially helpless, two grown men Ryan had found himself in charge of.

Ryan wasn't only taking care of his traumatized older brother who refused to let him touch him, even just to check to see if his fever had broken, but also his brother’s equally traumatized maybe-boyfriend who never flinched or pulled away but who instead stared at Ryan with glassy, frightened green eyes and gritted teeth as he simply put up with Ryan’s clumsy attempts at caretaking in silence, only breaking it with the occasional pl-please let Red sl-sleep, he can’t d-d-do chores today, I’ll d-do his chores f-for him, please...

One more day of this and Ryan might crack.

He's stocked the fridge with all the stuff he remembered Mom buying when they were sick as kids - ginger ale and Pedialyte (did adults drink that shit? Vandrum and Danny hadn't put up a fight when he brought it to them and God knew they weren't keeping any food down yet), chicken soup from the deli in little microwave-safe containers, some Gatorade. There were saltines open on the counter, from the only experiment with solid food either man had attempted since they first got sick.

Ryan had never seen someone throw up saltines before, but at least Vandrum had seemed decently ashamed of himself for it. Danny hadn't even tried them.

It's 9:45 in the morning and all Ryan wants to do is crawl back into his own bed and drift, but if he does he knows one of them will need him, and the only thing worse than not sleeping is finally, finally getting to sleep only to be almost immediately woken up by grown men so knocked out by some kind of virus that they could hardly stand on their own.

Ryan slowly sits up straight, feeling pops along his spine from having been slumped over the table for so long, wondering if twenty-four was too young to have his fucking bones crack when he moves, like an old man.

“One hour,” He says out loud, to no one in particular. “If they don’t need anything in the next hour, I’m giving up and going to fucking bed.”

He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. He listens to the voicemail his mother eventually leaves, after her third and fourth attempts go unanswered.

Here’s to hoping you’re sleeping, Ryan, and don’t worry, I was just wondering how you were doing and if you had any updates on how Danny and his, um, friend are doing. I can have Mrs. Verona over there to give you a break, poor dear, just say the word.

I was sleeping, Mom, Ryan thinks bitterly, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of one hand as he listens, ignoring for the moment that technically he had fallen asleep sitting at the table like a parent with a newborn and not an adult with a sick brother. Your fucking phone calls woke me up, congratulations, Corrine Michaelson, you’re a gold-star mom today.

No, that wasn’t fair. She was just worried, Mom knew he wasn’t sleeping enough since Danny came home. She was just trying to help, with the offers of an aide or of sending Mrs. Verona over for a day.

She wasn’t trying to chase Danny off again, she wasn’t trying to make him feel like less-than even when he’d only just really started to get his feet under himself again. She just wanted to help Ryan, like always, and was so blinded by it that she missed that what helped Ryan sometimes hurt Danny.

She’d never meant to be awful to Danny, really, it had always just… happened.

Why do you always make excuses for her? Why don’t you just admit it, give it a name, and try to protect him from them while he’s still so fragile and so easily torn apart all over again? He needs someone who can stand up for him this time, and you never have, you always, always let them blame him. You let him run to Eureka to get away from them, so he was in this stupid town when that fucking psychopath came calling to pick his ex up again.

You let them chase Danny away, and it’s your fault he was here when Abraham Denner wanted a new victim. It’s your fault, Ryan, and you have to fix it, so stop whining to yourself about being tired and take care of the brother you couldn’t save when it counted.

You can start by calling what Mom and Dad do to Danny what it is, by calling it-

“Ryan?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he looks up now to see Danny leaning against the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring in at him with stark surprise written across his face.

The wavy red hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck and his blue eyes are fever-bright, two bright red splotches mark his cheeks. His face is otherwise chalk-white, freckles and the ring of half-healed scarring standing out in garish, nearly neon red in a perfect outline of that fucking thing Ryan can barely stand to think about.

“What’re you doing up? You look dead on your feet, man.” Ryan stands up, slowly so he doesn’t surprise him - Danny still doesn’t like it when people move too fast around him, and the fever definitely doesn’t help with that problem - and sets his coffee mug on the table. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m not s’posed to, to be in th’ bed.” Danny glances over his shoulder, then back, putting a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. He must’ve… told Nate it was okay...” Danny’s eyes drift, aimlessly, to the side, looking with confusion at the window above the kitchen sink, with the faded, ancient little pleated floral curtain that had been in the apartment when Danny moved in. “That’s not right. What d’you think he did to earn me getting to sleep in the bed?”

Something in Ryan cracks a little more, the way it always does every single time Danny says something else like this, some new piece of heart-deep horror that Danny doesn’t even seem to recognize for what it is.

“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you you’re home,” Ryan says, wearily, thinking longingly about the last few swallows of hot coffee left and whether it’s worth drinking it if it’s not going to even touch the fatigue. “Would it?”

“I wish I could go home.” Danny speaks the words so softly Ryan nearly misses them. “I wish, but there isn’t one anymore. I know all the rules. I’m so fucking tired, Ryan. Are you still looking for me?”

“Danny?” He’s so exhausted that it takes too long, far too long, for it to really sink in that Danny isn’t talking to him at all, but to some memory he’s having, that Danny’s lost in the woods again.

“I wish I got to keep my name.” Danny whimpers the words more than speaks and then slides straight to the floor in one swift motion. Ryan can’t cross the distance in time to stop him and Danny thumps to the ground nearly bonelessly, still braced against the door frame, closing his eyes slowly and resting the side of his head against it. “You have to look in the woods, Ryan. We’re in the woods.”

When Ryan crouches in front of him, reaching out one hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, not when Ryan’s palm presses against his sweaty, boiling-hot forehead, not when he feels the rabbit-fast flutter of his pulse in the side of his neck.

“Whatever you want,” Danny mumbles, eyes half-opening, then closing again. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

He’s going to have to stand Danny up, and he can barely find the energy to straighten his legs for himself. Three days - three days of the fevers that come and go, the coughing that wakes him up when he does sleep, his mother’s worried phone calls, Vandrum being fucking useless because he’s sick, too.

He just.

It’s just too fucking much and Ryan never realized how hard it would be to do all of this totally alone.

“Danny, I’m so goddamn tired,” Ryan says out loud, near tears himself. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep taking care of you-”

“S’okay,” Danny slurs back to him. “Go back t’bed. I can make breakfast. I need to do chores… s’time, he can’t see I’m late, he can’t, can’t see-” Danny starts trying to push himself back to his feet, and Ryan is half-impressed, half-horrified when his desperately ill brother manages to make himself stand back up, knees locked, glittering, distant eyes fixed on the sink. Ryan stands with him, slowly, his hands out but uncertain what to do next. “Do dishes. Start with dishes. He has to see I’m still working…”

Danny takes a step and simply collapses forward, but this time Ryan is there to catch him under the arms in an awkward half-hug, and Danny shudders at the touch but he’s too weak to pull away or fight back, too weak to even try.

“Look in the woods,” Danny mutters, and his forehead falls against Ryan’s shoulder, thumping into it hard enough to make Ryan wince. “Look in th’ woods for us. Sssshhhhh… everything’s so fuckin’ loud…”

“You’re the only one talking here, buddy,” Ryan murmurs, closing his own eyes just for a second, feeling himself sway a little, a sort of dip in his brain where the white fog of tired takes over before his eyes jolt back open. “Shit. I, I have to sleep, Dan, or I’m gonna die.”

“Don’ die,” Danny mutters, without moving even an inch. “Don’ die. Mom’ll be mad at me.”

Ryan laughs, and after a second Danny huffs a sound that might be laughter, too, and finally Ryan braces himself, pushing Danny back up to where he’s taking at least a little of his own weight. “Okay, okay. I got an idea. Go back to my room, okay? We’ll lie down in there.”

“I have to start chores,” Danny protests faintly, his eyes dancing around aimlessly again, then landing back on Ryan’s face. “Can you tell Mom to call me in sick today? There’s no way I’m going to school. Abraham’s gonna be so mad at me... I can’t go t’school today...”

“You’re twenty-six years old, big brother,” Ryan grunts as he manages to get Danny’s arm around his shoulder to hold him up, taking his weight, his head pounding. He just had to get to bed. Just that far, not too far at all. “You haven’t been in school for a long time.”

“Oh.” Danny frowns, confused, and when Ryan starts trying to walk, he drags his feet along beside him, nearly shuffling. Their progress down the hallway is slow, but damn it, it still counts as progress, and Ryan can see his bedroom door getting closer with every step. “Did I graduate? I don’t remember that.”

Ryan sighs, taking a pause to redistribute Danny’s weight. He’s going to fall over right here in the hallway, pass out and sleep for a week. Right there on the floor. Maybe someone will drop an omelet or something for him to eat while he’s down there.

Who would make it, though, if Danny and Vandrum are both totally useless? Maybe if he called his mother, she’d send Mrs. Verona over with, like, a fucking honeyed ham or something.

“No, Dan, you didn’t. You were still one semester out. They sent you an honorary degree, though, I have it stashed somewhere.”

You know, when they thought you were dead, when everyone but me gave up.

“Honor degree.” Danny giggles, the sound eerie and unfamiliar, a high-pitched noise he’s almost never made in Ryan’s entire memory. “Degree for honor. What’s honor when you fuck like I do now?”

“If there is a God, may you never say anything like that ever again.” Ryan manages to get his door open, although only barely, and he stumbles a few feet into the room before simply letting Danny fall right into the bed, breathing hard.

“May I have permission to sleep?” Danny mumbles, eyes already closing as he mostly crawls his way further into the bed. Ryan’s heard him ask Nate Vandrum that question every fucking night since they brought him home, with the occasional lapse when he remembers he’s a human being and grown-ass humans don’t have to ask permission to fall asleep.

Just like they shouldn’t have to ask permission to shower or bathe or sit in a chair and not on the floor or eat with a fork or…

No. Too tired to be angry right now.

“Yes,” Ryan says heavily. “Yes, you can sleep.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep, Ryan.” The voice is soft and fuzzy, gentle and grateful, and Ryan fucking hates Danny’s stupid fucking rules and his stupid fucking puppy voice. And he hates that he’s so tired that he can’t stop himself from being angry that Danny still uses it rather than focusing on the fact that sometimes, for whole days, he doesn’t.

“No problem, buddy. Get some rest.”

He watches Danny curl up, turning his six-foot-two body into something shockingly small. His knees go to his chest and his arms curve over his head with his hands loosely splayed over his hair, a defensive position to ward off the blows that might be coming at any time.

He never slept like that before, he’d said to Vandrum one night early on, when they’d both woken up and caught Danny curled up like that on the floor next to the couch.

Yeah, w-w-well, your p-parents didn’t w-w-wake him up with head t-trauma, did they? Nate had said, and Ryan had hated him a little less, in the moment, when he’d seen the guilt written across his face. Nate was always guilty, and he damn well should be, but Ryan had plenty to be guilty about, too.

Plenty to make up for.

And he’ll be right back to that as soon as he gets some goddamn sleep.

Ryan sighs, swaying a little, and finally climbs in, sliding under the covers, unruly black curls falling over his face. He watches Danny, already out, curled up and ready to be kicked awake at any moment.

He falls asleep with one hand out, resting on top of the comforter within inches of Danny, not quite touching him.

#Daniel Michaelson's story #Bad Things Happen Bingo #bthb Daniel Michaelson's story #whump #trauma recovery #angry caretaker #broken whumpee #deconditioning #conditioning #dehumanization #pet whump #recovery whump #hurt/comfort #h/c #sick fic #of a sort #I suppose #ryan michaelson is a good brother

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